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How Green Was My Valley
How Green Was My Valley is Richard Llewellyn's bestselling -- and timeless -- classic and the basis of a beloved film. As Huw Morgan is about to leave home forever, he reminisces about the golden days of his youth when South Wales still prospered, when coal dust had not yet blackened the valley. Drawn simply and lovingly, with a crisp Welsh humor, Llewellyn's characters fight, love, laugh and cry, creating an indelible portrait of a people.
495 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1939
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28355 people want to read
About the author
Richard Llewellyn
36 books118 followersRichard Llewellyn (real name Richard Dafydd Vivian Llewellyn Lloyd) was a British novelist.
Llewellyn was born of Welsh parents in Hendon, north London in 1906. Only after his death was it discovered that his claim that he was born in St. Davids, West Wales was false, though of course he was of Welsh blood.
Several of his novels dealt with a Welsh theme, the best-known being How Green Was My Valley (1939), which won international acclaim and was made into a classic Hollywood film. It immortalised the way of life of the South Wales Valleys coal mining communities, where Llewellyn spent a small amount of time with his grandfather. Three sequels followed.
He lived a peripatetic life, travelling widely throughout his life. Before World War II, he spent periods working in hotels, wrote a play, worked as a coal miner and produced his best known novel. During World War II, he rose to the rank of Captain in the Welsh Guards. Following the war, he worked as a journalist, covering the Nuremberg Trials, and then as a screenwriter for MGM. Late in his life, he lived in Eilat, Israel.
Protagonists who assume new identities, often because they are transplanted into foreign cultures, are a recurring element in Llewellyn's novels, including a spy adventure that extends through several volumes.
Llewellyn married twice: his first wife was Nona Sonstenby, whom he married in 1952 and divorced in 1968, and his second wife was Susan Heimann, whom he married in 1974.
Llewellyn was born of Welsh parents in Hendon, north London in 1906. Only after his death was it discovered that his claim that he was born in St. Davids, West Wales was false, though of course he was of Welsh blood.
Several of his novels dealt with a Welsh theme, the best-known being How Green Was My Valley (1939), which won international acclaim and was made into a classic Hollywood film. It immortalised the way of life of the South Wales Valleys coal mining communities, where Llewellyn spent a small amount of time with his grandfather. Three sequels followed.
He lived a peripatetic life, travelling widely throughout his life. Before World War II, he spent periods working in hotels, wrote a play, worked as a coal miner and produced his best known novel. During World War II, he rose to the rank of Captain in the Welsh Guards. Following the war, he worked as a journalist, covering the Nuremberg Trials, and then as a screenwriter for MGM. Late in his life, he lived in Eilat, Israel.
Protagonists who assume new identities, often because they are transplanted into foreign cultures, are a recurring element in Llewellyn's novels, including a spy adventure that extends through several volumes.
Llewellyn married twice: his first wife was Nona Sonstenby, whom he married in 1952 and divorced in 1968, and his second wife was Susan Heimann, whom he married in 1974.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,943 reviews
May 4, 2024
What a gem. This is one of the most special pieces of writing I have ever come across... a lyrical, tender, exquisite masterpiece, and a beautiful elegy to a simpler world and a way of life that has been forever lost. This book is a rare treasure I will continue to come back to over the course of my life.
December 4, 2013
This will be a review that I will, no doubt, edit and add to a lot.
This is easily my most favorite and special book. It's something so beautiful that my heart aches to dwell on it. It aches because I long to be apart of something so perfect and wish for such beauty in everything I experience.
I feel I belong in that small Welsh mining town, that I should be spending all of my time supporting my family and town, singing with friends, learning voraciously, worshiping God intelligently and recognizing Him in every aspect of life, fiercely defending my friends, loving foolishly and uncontrollably, revering nature and losing myself in valleys, groves, creeks, and hill sides, or fighting and fighting and fighting with passionate words and quick fists for people, places and ideas that need me.
----------------------------
So it's 2 years later and I haven't updated this review yet. A friend of mine asked why. I guess it's because talking about things - giving them words - sometimes destroys this weird illusion that they are more than just the words you give them.
I can't use the same medium as the book - words - to praise it in any way that is better than what the book does with that same medium.
This is easily my most favorite and special book. It's something so beautiful that my heart aches to dwell on it. It aches because I long to be apart of something so perfect and wish for such beauty in everything I experience.
I feel I belong in that small Welsh mining town, that I should be spending all of my time supporting my family and town, singing with friends, learning voraciously, worshiping God intelligently and recognizing Him in every aspect of life, fiercely defending my friends, loving foolishly and uncontrollably, revering nature and losing myself in valleys, groves, creeks, and hill sides, or fighting and fighting and fighting with passionate words and quick fists for people, places and ideas that need me.
----------------------------
So it's 2 years later and I haven't updated this review yet. A friend of mine asked why. I guess it's because talking about things - giving them words - sometimes destroys this weird illusion that they are more than just the words you give them.
I can't use the same medium as the book - words - to praise it in any way that is better than what the book does with that same medium.
May 19, 2017
4.5/5 stars.
This is a wonderful and very clever piece of fiction about how we tend to remember things from our past fondly while forgetting about how bad things really were. "How Green Was My Valley" is a book about nostalgia and it is told from the point of view of Huw, who is now an elder, but who reflects back on his life and his childhood in the valleys of Wales.
This novel was wonderfully written with beautiful passages on life as well as note-worthy anecdotes on Huw's childhood and amazing family. A few passages became a bit too dense in their descriptions, but most of them were wonderful.
I think this book speaks to a lot of us because it talks about a universal subject, and I'm sure that's why it has become a classic and has survived through time. "How Green Was My Valley" comes with its brutalities where things that were not so "green" shine through the surface, but most of all it comes with a view on life which I think most of us share: a view of nostalgia and fondness.
This is a wonderful and very clever piece of fiction about how we tend to remember things from our past fondly while forgetting about how bad things really were. "How Green Was My Valley" is a book about nostalgia and it is told from the point of view of Huw, who is now an elder, but who reflects back on his life and his childhood in the valleys of Wales.
This novel was wonderfully written with beautiful passages on life as well as note-worthy anecdotes on Huw's childhood and amazing family. A few passages became a bit too dense in their descriptions, but most of them were wonderful.
I think this book speaks to a lot of us because it talks about a universal subject, and I'm sure that's why it has become a classic and has survived through time. "How Green Was My Valley" comes with its brutalities where things that were not so "green" shine through the surface, but most of all it comes with a view on life which I think most of us share: a view of nostalgia and fondness.
March 3, 2020
This is a very hard book to rate. I'm going with three and a half stars with caveats for some readers. Parts of it were five star brilliant. The rhythm and pattern of Welsh speech, conversation and story telling is rendered into English with a deft and often humorous touch. The descriptions of Wales and the countryside were exquisite and the sense of place and time so intense and immediate that I was often completely transported. The best parts are in the first half of the book as a man looks back at his childhood in a once-green valley.
"I will say it was lovely, because it was so green and fresh and clean, with wind from off the fields and dews from the mountain. The river was not very wide...but so clear that you would see every inch of rock through the bubbling water, and so full of fish that nobody thought of using a rod. My father taught me to tickle trout up on the flat rock down by Mrs Tom Jenkins'."
As the industrial revolution transformed Britain, the coal-mining regions of South Wales fairly basked in prosperity. And food in plenty.
"There is good dripping toast is by the fire in the evening. Good jelly dripping and crusty, home-baked bread, with the mealy savour of ripe wheat roundly in your mouth and under your teeth, roasted sweet and crisp and deep brown, and covered with little pockets where the dripping will hide and melt and shine in the light, deep down inside, ready to run when your teeth bite in."
I put on five pounds reading that....
I loved the many characters and scenes of village life. Huw (the narrator) and his struggles with rheumatic fever are moving and filled with warm insight. Mining is a way of life here, and there is pride in the skill of the work and in the role Wales plays in Britain's growing power.
As Huw matures the tone of the book darkens. Labor and management conflicts come to the valley and its mines and Huw's family is drawn into disputes that threaten to tear father from son, brother from brother.
The history lesson was terrific and an excellent complement to Elizabeth Gaskell's brilliant North and South, as well as my non-fiction reads on industrialization and populist and socialist movements in Britain and the U.S.
As Huw grows, so does the vast heap of mine tailings--slag mountains that tower over the town, pressing in relentlessly on his home, the refuge that he and his family love so well. In 1966 one of these coal-tip mountains collapsed in an avalanche that killed nearly an entire school house full of children and teachers in Aberfan.
[For another harrowing view of the history behind this moment see The Crown, Season 3 Aberfan.]
Somewhere near the midpoint the book started to fade for me and I grew lost as family members left home, found spouses, fought their own battles. It just got really confusing. I longed at least for a family tree and a timeline. The verbal round-abouts and endless descriptions began to wear away my patience. When a rather wonderful preacher describes the facts of life to Huw without ever naming a body part I mostly viewed it with astonished admiration for the inventive circumlocutions. Does Huw figure it all out? Well...at the risk of spoilers...I sort of think so....but then again, maybe not.
But by the last 200 pages I found myself skipping and skimming....thinking "Get on with it, man! Can't you, for the love of Heaven, just tell us what happened?" There were also some glaring plot holes that bothered the heck out of me
Content rating G: Despite the fact that this is ostensibly a coming of age novel the sex is so obscured that no one under the age of consent will be able to figure out what's happening. Some mild violence, scenes of starvation.
"I will say it was lovely, because it was so green and fresh and clean, with wind from off the fields and dews from the mountain. The river was not very wide...but so clear that you would see every inch of rock through the bubbling water, and so full of fish that nobody thought of using a rod. My father taught me to tickle trout up on the flat rock down by Mrs Tom Jenkins'."
As the industrial revolution transformed Britain, the coal-mining regions of South Wales fairly basked in prosperity. And food in plenty.
"There is good dripping toast is by the fire in the evening. Good jelly dripping and crusty, home-baked bread, with the mealy savour of ripe wheat roundly in your mouth and under your teeth, roasted sweet and crisp and deep brown, and covered with little pockets where the dripping will hide and melt and shine in the light, deep down inside, ready to run when your teeth bite in."
I put on five pounds reading that....
I loved the many characters and scenes of village life. Huw (the narrator) and his struggles with rheumatic fever are moving and filled with warm insight. Mining is a way of life here, and there is pride in the skill of the work and in the role Wales plays in Britain's growing power.
As Huw matures the tone of the book darkens. Labor and management conflicts come to the valley and its mines and Huw's family is drawn into disputes that threaten to tear father from son, brother from brother.
The history lesson was terrific and an excellent complement to Elizabeth Gaskell's brilliant North and South, as well as my non-fiction reads on industrialization and populist and socialist movements in Britain and the U.S.
As Huw grows, so does the vast heap of mine tailings--slag mountains that tower over the town, pressing in relentlessly on his home, the refuge that he and his family love so well. In 1966 one of these coal-tip mountains collapsed in an avalanche that killed nearly an entire school house full of children and teachers in Aberfan.
[For another harrowing view of the history behind this moment see The Crown, Season 3 Aberfan.]
Somewhere near the midpoint the book started to fade for me and I grew lost as family members left home, found spouses, fought their own battles. It just got really confusing. I longed at least for a family tree and a timeline. The verbal round-abouts and endless descriptions began to wear away my patience. When a rather wonderful preacher describes the facts of life to Huw without ever naming a body part I mostly viewed it with astonished admiration for the inventive circumlocutions. Does Huw figure it all out? Well...at the risk of spoilers...I sort of think so....but then again, maybe not.
But by the last 200 pages I found myself skipping and skimming....thinking "Get on with it, man! Can't you, for the love of Heaven, just tell us what happened?" There were also some glaring plot holes that bothered the heck out of me
Content rating G: Despite the fact that this is ostensibly a coming of age novel the sex is so obscured that no one under the age of consent will be able to figure out what's happening. Some mild violence, scenes of starvation.
November 2, 2017
RESEÑA COMPLETA: https://cronicasdemagrat.wordpress.co...
Me ha gustado muchísimo, especialmente la primera mitad del libro, porque los relatos de infancia me fascinan.... y más si están descritos con esa nostalgia y en un ambiente tan peculiar como un pueblo minero en la Gales del final de la época victoriana.
Me ha sorprendido la crudeza pero a la vez la ternura que desprende esta historia, y me quedo con sus personajes, con todos pero especialmente con nuestro protagonista... en pocas ocasiones he conseguido coger tanto cariño a un personaje protagonista de un libro ♥
Me ha gustado muchísimo, especialmente la primera mitad del libro, porque los relatos de infancia me fascinan.... y más si están descritos con esa nostalgia y en un ambiente tan peculiar como un pueblo minero en la Gales del final de la época victoriana.
Me ha sorprendido la crudeza pero a la vez la ternura que desprende esta historia, y me quedo con sus personajes, con todos pero especialmente con nuestro protagonista... en pocas ocasiones he conseguido coger tanto cariño a un personaje protagonista de un libro ♥
August 23, 2009
I've only re-read a handful of books in my life, and I've read this one at least 5 times. If I had to pick a favorite book of all time (sacrilege!) - it would be this one. Never have I seen prose that has this much POETRY in it. How Green is a unique, lyrical beauty.
The coming-of-age narrator, Huw, so well paints a picture of his everyday struggles in a rapidly-industrialized Wales that you can literally hear the birds and smell the blackberry pie. Of course many authors are good at descriptions such as those - but where I believe Llewellyn truly distinguishes himself is in his descriptions of emotional states and experiences. He'll describe a self-righteous man looking up with eyes "hurting in goodness" or innumerate the beatings of his heart and lyrics tumbling away to Forgot as he stands in church to sing a solo... and I just want to scream inside because I've felt EXACTLY that way before and never been able to process it into such perfect words. The moral messages are amazing. The characters are unforgettable. Somehow I understand life better when I read this book.
MY FAVORITE SECTION OF ANY BOOK EVER WRITTEN:
"I am Beth Morgan," my mother said, and her voice was as deep and strong as any man. "I have come up here to tell you what I do think of you all, because I have heard you are talking against my husband. Two things in this world I do hate. One is talking behind the back, and the other is lice. So you should know what I do think of you... You are a lot of cowards to talk against my husband... How some of you can sit in the same Chapel with him I cannot tell. I would look for a flame of fire upon me, indeed. But there is one thing more I will say and that is this. If harm do come to my Gwilym, I will find out the men and I will kill them with my hands. And that I will swear by God Almighty. And there will be no Hell for me. Nobody will go to Hell for killing lice."
FAVORITE QUOTES:
I never met anybody whose talk was better than good food.
It is strange how loud little sounds become when you are in the dark and doing something wrong.
"Trouble will not stop in a man whose lungs are filled with fresh air." (Papa Gwilym)
After that, it was like trying to talk through a net. Words seemed to stick in the air. Nobody seemed willing to look at anybody else. And when somebody laughed, you could tell how hard they were trying.
"Man was made in the image of God. Is God a sheep? Because if He is, I understand why we are all so damned stupid." (Ianto)
I saw her face as she bent to blow out the candle with her mouth in the shape of a kiss, still the smile in the eyes, but now as a mother will look at her child that cries in the arms of another woman, softer, and with more of want.
He cleared his throat as though pain had been his only meal for hours.
"You cannot blame ignorant men. You might as well kick a dog for not wishing good morning." (Mr. Gruffydd)
"I thought when I was a young man that I would conquer the world with truth. I thought I would lead an army greater than Alexander ever dreamed of, not to conquer nations, but to liberate mankind. With truth. With the golden sound of the Word. But only a few heard the trumpet. Only a few understood. The rest of them put on black and sat in Chapel." (Mr. Gruffydd)
"It is only when men forget to fight for right that they fail. There are plenty to fight for wrong." (Ianto)
They could not have had more happiness in their eyes, and my heart could not have known more lightness, or I would have been off the earth and drinking the skies.
The coming-of-age narrator, Huw, so well paints a picture of his everyday struggles in a rapidly-industrialized Wales that you can literally hear the birds and smell the blackberry pie. Of course many authors are good at descriptions such as those - but where I believe Llewellyn truly distinguishes himself is in his descriptions of emotional states and experiences. He'll describe a self-righteous man looking up with eyes "hurting in goodness" or innumerate the beatings of his heart and lyrics tumbling away to Forgot as he stands in church to sing a solo... and I just want to scream inside because I've felt EXACTLY that way before and never been able to process it into such perfect words. The moral messages are amazing. The characters are unforgettable. Somehow I understand life better when I read this book.
MY FAVORITE SECTION OF ANY BOOK EVER WRITTEN:
"I am Beth Morgan," my mother said, and her voice was as deep and strong as any man. "I have come up here to tell you what I do think of you all, because I have heard you are talking against my husband. Two things in this world I do hate. One is talking behind the back, and the other is lice. So you should know what I do think of you... You are a lot of cowards to talk against my husband... How some of you can sit in the same Chapel with him I cannot tell. I would look for a flame of fire upon me, indeed. But there is one thing more I will say and that is this. If harm do come to my Gwilym, I will find out the men and I will kill them with my hands. And that I will swear by God Almighty. And there will be no Hell for me. Nobody will go to Hell for killing lice."
FAVORITE QUOTES:
I never met anybody whose talk was better than good food.
It is strange how loud little sounds become when you are in the dark and doing something wrong.
"Trouble will not stop in a man whose lungs are filled with fresh air." (Papa Gwilym)
After that, it was like trying to talk through a net. Words seemed to stick in the air. Nobody seemed willing to look at anybody else. And when somebody laughed, you could tell how hard they were trying.
"Man was made in the image of God. Is God a sheep? Because if He is, I understand why we are all so damned stupid." (Ianto)
I saw her face as she bent to blow out the candle with her mouth in the shape of a kiss, still the smile in the eyes, but now as a mother will look at her child that cries in the arms of another woman, softer, and with more of want.
He cleared his throat as though pain had been his only meal for hours.
"You cannot blame ignorant men. You might as well kick a dog for not wishing good morning." (Mr. Gruffydd)
"I thought when I was a young man that I would conquer the world with truth. I thought I would lead an army greater than Alexander ever dreamed of, not to conquer nations, but to liberate mankind. With truth. With the golden sound of the Word. But only a few heard the trumpet. Only a few understood. The rest of them put on black and sat in Chapel." (Mr. Gruffydd)
"It is only when men forget to fight for right that they fail. There are plenty to fight for wrong." (Ianto)
They could not have had more happiness in their eyes, and my heart could not have known more lightness, or I would have been off the earth and drinking the skies.
November 16, 2017
Richard Llewellen's writing is akin to Welsh singing, so beautiful it takes your breath away. In the beginning it seems like it will bog down in talk of forming a union, but read on. Although important to carry the story, it never does get tedious with that! This story is written so beautifully it has a lilt and cadence that will lift you up. Examples:
Page 88, "O, blackberry tart, with berries as big as your thumb, purple and black, and thick with juice, and a crust to endear them that will go to cream in your mouth, and both passing down with such a taste that will make you close your eyes and wish you might live for ever in the wideness of that rich moment."
Page 159, "There is beautiful to watch a mountain sleeping, and other mountains in the other valleys rising up like bits of blue velvet to make you feel you could cut a piece and wear it for a coat, to dance in above the fat clouds."
Page 165, "Sing then. Sing, indeed, with shoulders back, and head up so that song might go to the roof and beyond to the sky. Mass on mass of tone, with a hard edge, and rich with quality, every single note a carpet of colour woven from basso profundo, and basso, and baritone, and alto, and tenor, and soprano, and alto and mezzo, and contralto, singing and singing, until life and all things living are become a song. O, Voice of Man, organ of most lovely might." Makes me long to hear the rich Welsh tones of yesteryear.
Page 231, "The more he whistled, the more the trees tried to hush him, and the bigger the tree, the bigger the hush, and beating at him with their arms to stop him tickling them, but no use, for he was in one side and out the other, and nothing they could do only wave at him, and hush more."
And on page 234, after the poetry of the words fills your soul, you can whip up some brandy broth to fill your belly: "O Brandy Broth is the King of Broth and royal in the rooms of the mouth. A good chicken and a noble piece of ham, with a little shoulder of lamb, small to have the least of grease, and then a paste of the roes of trout with cream, a bit of butter, and the yolk of egg, whipped tight and poured in when the chicken, proud with a stuffing of sage and thyme, has been elbowing the lamb and the ham in the earthenware pot until all three are tender as the heart of a mother. In with the carrots and turnips and the goodness of marrow bones, and in with a mixing of milk and potatoes. Now watch the clock and every fifteen minutes pour in a noggin of brandy, and with the first a pint of home-brewed ale. Two noggins in, and with the third, throw in the chopped bottoms of leeks, but save the green leaves until ten minutes from the time you sit to eat, for then you shall find them still a lovely green."
Page 249, "If there shall come a time when you leave this house without a proper something to eat," said my mother, "look for me on the floor."
Please read this book!
Page 88, "O, blackberry tart, with berries as big as your thumb, purple and black, and thick with juice, and a crust to endear them that will go to cream in your mouth, and both passing down with such a taste that will make you close your eyes and wish you might live for ever in the wideness of that rich moment."
Page 159, "There is beautiful to watch a mountain sleeping, and other mountains in the other valleys rising up like bits of blue velvet to make you feel you could cut a piece and wear it for a coat, to dance in above the fat clouds."
Page 165, "Sing then. Sing, indeed, with shoulders back, and head up so that song might go to the roof and beyond to the sky. Mass on mass of tone, with a hard edge, and rich with quality, every single note a carpet of colour woven from basso profundo, and basso, and baritone, and alto, and tenor, and soprano, and alto and mezzo, and contralto, singing and singing, until life and all things living are become a song. O, Voice of Man, organ of most lovely might." Makes me long to hear the rich Welsh tones of yesteryear.
Page 231, "The more he whistled, the more the trees tried to hush him, and the bigger the tree, the bigger the hush, and beating at him with their arms to stop him tickling them, but no use, for he was in one side and out the other, and nothing they could do only wave at him, and hush more."
And on page 234, after the poetry of the words fills your soul, you can whip up some brandy broth to fill your belly: "O Brandy Broth is the King of Broth and royal in the rooms of the mouth. A good chicken and a noble piece of ham, with a little shoulder of lamb, small to have the least of grease, and then a paste of the roes of trout with cream, a bit of butter, and the yolk of egg, whipped tight and poured in when the chicken, proud with a stuffing of sage and thyme, has been elbowing the lamb and the ham in the earthenware pot until all three are tender as the heart of a mother. In with the carrots and turnips and the goodness of marrow bones, and in with a mixing of milk and potatoes. Now watch the clock and every fifteen minutes pour in a noggin of brandy, and with the first a pint of home-brewed ale. Two noggins in, and with the third, throw in the chopped bottoms of leeks, but save the green leaves until ten minutes from the time you sit to eat, for then you shall find them still a lovely green."
Page 249, "If there shall come a time when you leave this house without a proper something to eat," said my mother, "look for me on the floor."
Please read this book!
February 2, 2022
Çocukken okuduğum klasik romanlar vardı. Adeta oradaymışim gibi hissettiren. Robinson Crusoe ile birlikte tahıl yetiştirmiş, Bereketli Topraklar'da bir barakanın yükselişine heyecanlanmıştım. Sonra Üç Silahşörler, Parma Manastırı ve daha onlarcası.
Işte bu kitapta da yıllar sonra, çocukluğumda yaşadığım o doymak bilmez bir merakla takip ettim akışı. Her bir karakteri tek tek tanıdım. Kimini sevdim, kiminden nefret ettim Mr. Jones mesela. O mahkeme sahnesinde diğer tüm katılımcılarla birlikte ben de oradaydım ve nefesimi tutup yargıçın dudağından dökülecekleri bekledim.
Dai'nin çelik gibi bileğinin ve yumruklarının arkasında güven ve huzurla ben ilerledim. Sonra Huw...
Onun tecessüsü, onun hayatı kavrama şekli, muhakemesi, çıkarımları... Onunla beraber büyüdüm. Onun sırlarını sakladım.
Vadim O Kadar Yeşildi Ki, bir grup maden işçisinin hikayesini anlatmıyor yalnızca, onlar bütün insanlık. Korkuları, kıskançlıkları, zayıflıkları, güçlü yanları, bağnazlıkları, cehaletleriyle ve onları insan yapan tüm kusurlarıyla... Büyük insanlığın içindeki kum taneleri olan küçük insanları hikayesi.
Hepimizin vadisi, o kadar yeşil olan; bir zamanlar.
M. Baran
24.05.2016
Mersin
Işte bu kitapta da yıllar sonra, çocukluğumda yaşadığım o doymak bilmez bir merakla takip ettim akışı. Her bir karakteri tek tek tanıdım. Kimini sevdim, kiminden nefret ettim Mr. Jones mesela. O mahkeme sahnesinde diğer tüm katılımcılarla birlikte ben de oradaydım ve nefesimi tutup yargıçın dudağından dökülecekleri bekledim.
Dai'nin çelik gibi bileğinin ve yumruklarının arkasında güven ve huzurla ben ilerledim. Sonra Huw...
Onun tecessüsü, onun hayatı kavrama şekli, muhakemesi, çıkarımları... Onunla beraber büyüdüm. Onun sırlarını sakladım.
Vadim O Kadar Yeşildi Ki, bir grup maden işçisinin hikayesini anlatmıyor yalnızca, onlar bütün insanlık. Korkuları, kıskançlıkları, zayıflıkları, güçlü yanları, bağnazlıkları, cehaletleriyle ve onları insan yapan tüm kusurlarıyla... Büyük insanlığın içindeki kum taneleri olan küçük insanları hikayesi.
Hepimizin vadisi, o kadar yeşil olan; bir zamanlar.
M. Baran
24.05.2016
Mersin
August 2, 2025
MARAVILLOSO.
Un libro que me ha emocionado muchísimo, que me ha hecho sonreir, soñar y que no podía dejar de leer. Me encantan las sagas familiares y más ambientadas en entornos rurales. Esta lo tiene todo.
La única pega es que acaba muy abruptamente, me ha faltado libro para saber qué ocurre con otros miembros de la familia pero aún así es una delicia y lo recomiendo muchísimo.
Un libro que me ha emocionado muchísimo, que me ha hecho sonreir, soñar y que no podía dejar de leer. Me encantan las sagas familiares y más ambientadas en entornos rurales. Esta lo tiene todo.
La única pega es que acaba muy abruptamente, me ha faltado libro para saber qué ocurre con otros miembros de la familia pero aún así es una delicia y lo recomiendo muchísimo.
February 8, 2019
Although as an older and more critical reader I do somewhat understand those reviewers who have found Richard Llewellyn's How Green Was My Valley perhaps not quite nitty gritty and harshly descriptive enough with regard to showing and presenting what life used to be like in the mining towns of Wales, personally, I still have to admit that rereading How Green Was My Valley for the first time since I totally devoured this novel when we read it for school in 1982 has been in every way as much of a pleasure now as it had been then. For while Richard Llewellyn might have penned his words with not as much fire-and-brimstone like immediacy and often visceral pain as many more contemporary writers of working-class fiction tend to do (and especially those authors who feature and depict the often dangerous working and living conditions that coal miners face or have faced), Llewelyn (at least in my opinion) still manages in ALL ways to depict the bitter along with the sweet, shows the pain and multiple threats and dangers of mining work and how Huw Morgan's family is both defined by coal mining and ultimately also and sadly quite destroyed by it (describing Huw and his family's struggles, their trials, tragedies and tribulations but also their joys and simple pleasures caressingly, beautifully, descriptively and NEVER at least in my opinion with a tendency to either tedium or over exaggeration). One of my absolute favourites of the assigned novels I (as mentioned above) had to read for school, and yes, I am indeed very much personally pleased and tickled pink that my January/February 2019 perusal of How Green Was My Valley has stood the proverbial test of time for me and has been indeed in every fashion just as magical a reading experience this time around, for I was certainly more than a bit worried that I might not enjoy either Richard Llewellyn's prose style or the information he presents as much as I had as a teenager (but fortunately and gloriously, I need not have been worried, for How Green Was My Valley has indeed been a simply wonderful rereading experience for me, so much so that I will gladly give a five star rating, and yes, that said five star ranking pertains to both when I perused How Green Was My Valley as a teenager and now).
August 9, 2020
کتاب دره من چه سبز بود نوشته آقای لولین لوید حکایت روستاییانی ساده دل و مهربان هست که در روستایی درون دره ای سبز زندگی می کنند ، در نزدیکی معدن زغال سنگ . همگی آنان در این معدن مشغول به کار هستند . داستان از زبان هو پسر کوچک خانواده روایت می شود .
زندگی کارگران ساده ای که تمام عمر خود را در معدن به سر می برند و از طرف صاحب معدن به شدت استثمار می شوند ، حکایت انبوه کارگران عصر ویکتوریا ، که دستمزد آنان تنها کفاف نان آنها را می دهد ، آنها هیچ حقوقی ندارند و از جانب هیچ سازمانی هم حمایت نمی شوند .
هو با بیانی شاعرانه به توصیف حوادث دوران کودکی و زندگی در دره ای زیبا در ولز پرداخته ، زندگی خانواده کم توقع خود را توصیف کرده ، مبارزات اتحادیه در برابر صاحب معدن ، اعتصاب ها ، گرسنگی ها ، معدن مخوف که زندگی کارگران را گروگان گرفته است ، با زیاد شدن کارگران و ارزان شدن قیمت زغال ، اخراج کارگران اوج گرفته و خانواده هو از هم می پاشد ، معدن به مانند یک هیولا زندگی کارگران را نابود کرده و دره زیبا همیشه سبز را هم ویران .
با افزایش بی کاری و فقر ، کارگران مانند برادران هو به نقاط مختلف جهان از آمریکا تا نیوزلند مهاجرت می کنند و نشانه ای از زندگی در آن دره نمی ماند ، هو که اکنون میانسال شده با حسرت از دره سبز و خاطرات آن می گوید .
اما متاسفانه تمام زیبایی های این کتاب و رمان عظیم در ترجمه بسیار مضحک آن رنگ باخته است . مترجم کتاب آقای اسدالله جعفرزاده با تلاش بسیار کوشیده است تا تمامی زیبایی های کتاب را از بین ببرد ، او در راه رسیدن به این هدف از عبارات و اصطلاحات فارسی استفاده کرده و این عبارات را در دهان شخصیت های اوایل قرن بیستم ولز از حمله هو بیچاره و خانواده نگون بختش گذاشته .
جملات گنگ و بدون معنی و مفهوم ، ظرافتهای داستان را از بین برده و برای مثال خواننده متوجه نمی شود که عشق پاک هو به برون ون به کجا رسید.
کتاب دره من چه سبز بود از آنجا که بیانگر نگاه کارگران ساده در زمانه صنعتی شدن و تلاش آنان برای حفظ کار و زندگی آنان می باشد را هم ردیف خوشه های خشم به حساب میاورند . اما ترجمه ضعیف کتاب را به اثری متوسط تبدیل کرده است .
زندگی کارگران ساده ای که تمام عمر خود را در معدن به سر می برند و از طرف صاحب معدن به شدت استثمار می شوند ، حکایت انبوه کارگران عصر ویکتوریا ، که دستمزد آنان تنها کفاف نان آنها را می دهد ، آنها هیچ حقوقی ندارند و از جانب هیچ سازمانی هم حمایت نمی شوند .
هو با بیانی شاعرانه به توصیف حوادث دوران کودکی و زندگی در دره ای زیبا در ولز پرداخته ، زندگی خانواده کم توقع خود را توصیف کرده ، مبارزات اتحادیه در برابر صاحب معدن ، اعتصاب ها ، گرسنگی ها ، معدن مخوف که زندگی کارگران را گروگان گرفته است ، با زیاد شدن کارگران و ارزان شدن قیمت زغال ، اخراج کارگران اوج گرفته و خانواده هو از هم می پاشد ، معدن به مانند یک هیولا زندگی کارگران را نابود کرده و دره زیبا همیشه سبز را هم ویران .
با افزایش بی کاری و فقر ، کارگران مانند برادران هو به نقاط مختلف جهان از آمریکا تا نیوزلند مهاجرت می کنند و نشانه ای از زندگی در آن دره نمی ماند ، هو که اکنون میانسال شده با حسرت از دره سبز و خاطرات آن می گوید .
اما متاسفانه تمام زیبایی های این کتاب و رمان عظیم در ترجمه بسیار مضحک آن رنگ باخته است . مترجم کتاب آقای اسدالله جعفرزاده با تلاش بسیار کوشیده است تا تمامی زیبایی های کتاب را از بین ببرد ، او در راه رسیدن به این هدف از عبارات و اصطلاحات فارسی استفاده کرده و این عبارات را در دهان شخصیت های اوایل قرن بیستم ولز از حمله هو بیچاره و خانواده نگون بختش گذاشته .
جملات گنگ و بدون معنی و مفهوم ، ظرافتهای داستان را از بین برده و برای مثال خواننده متوجه نمی شود که عشق پاک هو به برون ون به کجا رسید.
کتاب دره من چه سبز بود از آنجا که بیانگر نگاه کارگران ساده در زمانه صنعتی شدن و تلاش آنان برای حفظ کار و زندگی آنان می باشد را هم ردیف خوشه های خشم به حساب میاورند . اما ترجمه ضعیف کتاب را به اثری متوسط تبدیل کرده است .
January 4, 2026
Última lectura conjunta de maduritos de 2025. Ha sido una delicia de lectura tranquila con un toque de melancolía y algunos pasajes de una intensidad conmovedora.
Es una novela construida desde la memoria y con una profunda ternura hacia lo vivido, desde la mirada retrospectiva de Huw Morgan, quien evoca su infancia en un valle minero galés como si cada recuerdo fuese un pequeño tesoro rescatado del tiempo.
Un canto a la familia, a la tierra, a un mundo perdido, narrado con una humanidad que sigue resonando después de leído el libro.
Uno de los pilares de la narración es el amor familiar, presentado como una fuerza casi sagrada. La madre de Huw encarna una dignidad silenciosa y feroz, capaz de enfrentarse a los jóvenes mineros para defender el honor de su marido, y de resistir después, al borde de la muerte por el frío, sostenida por su hijo pequeño, que la protege sin comprender aún la gravedad de lo que ocurre. Esa cadena de cuidados, la madre defendiendo al padre, el hijo salvando a la madre, el padre anunciando con pudor la llegada de una nueva hija…, resume la ética profunda de la novela: la familia como refugio último frente a un mundo cada vez más hostil.
El padre, Gwilym Morgan, es uno de los personajes más bellos del libro por su emoción contenida en muchos momentos a flor de piel. El autor retrata con delicadeza momentos de orgullo íntimo, como cuando ve por primera vez el nombre de su hijo en el periódico tras ganar un concurso de caligrafía. No hay grandilocuencia, basta la mención respetuosa de “Huw Morgan, hijo del señor Gwilym Morgan” para transmitir una felicidad tan intensa como silenciosa, una emoción que no necesita palabras.
La novela rinde también un homenaje extraordinario al placer de la lectura y del saber compartido. En una escena muy tristes, el padre recibe la noticia de que dos de sus hijos emigrarán a Nueva Zelanda y a Alemania en busca de trabajo, les pide que no se diga nada aún a la madre, y, como último gesto de unidad familiar, pregunta simplemente:“ ¿Leemos un capítulo, hijos míos? ”. Los pocos libros que hay en casa son tesoros, y la lectura en voz alta se convierte en una rutina diaria casi sagrada, una forma de resistencia ante la disgregación de la familia, todos se unen escuchando mientras uno lee en voz alta.
Ese mismo cuidado sencillo y arrebatador se extiende a muchos pequeños placeres cotidianos: la comida escasa pero preparada con amor, descrita con un lirismo sensorial magnífico, “ se te deshacía en la boca: todo junto tenía un sabor tan delicioso que al tragarlo se te cerraban los ojos y deseabas poder vivir para siempre en la abundancia de ese grato momento ”; la ilusión casi ceremonial por un traje nuevo por fin de pantalón largo; o la felicidad intensa que cabe en un instante de abundancia fugaz. El autor demuestra un talento sublime para convertir lo humilde en algo memorable.
El crecimiento de Huw hacia la vida adulta se narra en muchísimos pasajes con una mezcla de inocencia, confusión y poesía, llenas de metáforas, a veces muy graciosas como en el caso de sus dudas sobre la concepción, que reflejan con precisión la perplejidad del niño ante un mundo que empieza a volverse complejo: “ -¿cómo se siembra la semilla? ”-, y la confusión de las explicaciones del señor Gruffydd: �� - …crecerás hasta hacerte un hombre y en ese momento custodiarás la semilla….La guardarás dentro de ti, hecha a partir de tu propia sangre y lista para cuando llegue el momento de la siembra, en esas partes tuyas que son distintas a las de la chica….Te unificarás a la mujer que será tu esposa…” Y el pequeño Huw responde “ Pero me unificaré, ¿cómo, señor?... ”
Esa confusión desemboca más adelante en un descubrimiento del sexo narrado con un lirismo desbordante, casi visionario, donde la experiencia se transforma en música, colores, lunas en llamas y un universo recién nacido. La famosa frase “Qué verde era mi valle aquel día” adquiere todo su sentido simbólico, la plenitud de un instante irrepetible… “ Qué verde era mi valle aquel día, sí que lo era, verde y luminoso al sol ”.
Frente a esta belleza, la novela no oculta el trabajo duro y la amenaza constante de la mina, descrita como una entidad viva y devoradora, una tierra que reclama de vuelta la carne que le fue arrancada. La personificación de la mina y de la muerte bajo tierra añade una dimensión casi mítica al trabajo minero, subrayando el sacrificio cotidiano de quienes descienden a ella. “ Así que nos espera y, cuando nos encuentra, se nos echa encima y, al echarse encima, nos hace parte de ella, carne de su carne, y nuestra arcilla sustituye a la que tan desconsideradamente le hemos arrebatado a paladas… ”
Me ha sorprendido en la obra un sentimiento patriótico curioso, propio de Gales: una identidad orgullosa y diferenciada frente a Inglaterra, pero al mismo tiempo profundamente monárquica. El día en que uno de los hijos canta ante la Reina se convierte en uno de los mayores motivos de orgullo para el padre, revelando las contradicciones y matices de una comunidad que ama su tierra sin dejar de venerar ciertos símbolos del poder.
Se podrían mencionar mil momentos o pasajes, pero más allá de los episodios concretos, lo más logrado reside en su voz narrativa, impregnada de nostalgia, que contempla la vida pasada con una ternura lúcida, consciente de su pérdida, y con un tono íntimo y contenido, un lirismo muy sencillo que surge de manera natural, sin ornamento excesivo, como si la belleza naciera de la propia mirada con que se recuerda, creando una atmósfera emocional envolvente, donde la melancolía convive con el orgullo, el dolor con la gratitud, y escrita desde el amor a un mundo humilde, duro y ya desaparecido.
Es una novela construida desde la memoria y con una profunda ternura hacia lo vivido, desde la mirada retrospectiva de Huw Morgan, quien evoca su infancia en un valle minero galés como si cada recuerdo fuese un pequeño tesoro rescatado del tiempo.
Un canto a la familia, a la tierra, a un mundo perdido, narrado con una humanidad que sigue resonando después de leído el libro.
Uno de los pilares de la narración es el amor familiar, presentado como una fuerza casi sagrada. La madre de Huw encarna una dignidad silenciosa y feroz, capaz de enfrentarse a los jóvenes mineros para defender el honor de su marido, y de resistir después, al borde de la muerte por el frío, sostenida por su hijo pequeño, que la protege sin comprender aún la gravedad de lo que ocurre. Esa cadena de cuidados, la madre defendiendo al padre, el hijo salvando a la madre, el padre anunciando con pudor la llegada de una nueva hija…, resume la ética profunda de la novela: la familia como refugio último frente a un mundo cada vez más hostil.
El padre, Gwilym Morgan, es uno de los personajes más bellos del libro por su emoción contenida en muchos momentos a flor de piel. El autor retrata con delicadeza momentos de orgullo íntimo, como cuando ve por primera vez el nombre de su hijo en el periódico tras ganar un concurso de caligrafía. No hay grandilocuencia, basta la mención respetuosa de “Huw Morgan, hijo del señor Gwilym Morgan” para transmitir una felicidad tan intensa como silenciosa, una emoción que no necesita palabras.
La novela rinde también un homenaje extraordinario al placer de la lectura y del saber compartido. En una escena muy tristes, el padre recibe la noticia de que dos de sus hijos emigrarán a Nueva Zelanda y a Alemania en busca de trabajo, les pide que no se diga nada aún a la madre, y, como último gesto de unidad familiar, pregunta simplemente:“ ¿Leemos un capítulo, hijos míos? ”. Los pocos libros que hay en casa son tesoros, y la lectura en voz alta se convierte en una rutina diaria casi sagrada, una forma de resistencia ante la disgregación de la familia, todos se unen escuchando mientras uno lee en voz alta.
Ese mismo cuidado sencillo y arrebatador se extiende a muchos pequeños placeres cotidianos: la comida escasa pero preparada con amor, descrita con un lirismo sensorial magnífico, “ se te deshacía en la boca: todo junto tenía un sabor tan delicioso que al tragarlo se te cerraban los ojos y deseabas poder vivir para siempre en la abundancia de ese grato momento ”; la ilusión casi ceremonial por un traje nuevo por fin de pantalón largo; o la felicidad intensa que cabe en un instante de abundancia fugaz. El autor demuestra un talento sublime para convertir lo humilde en algo memorable.
El crecimiento de Huw hacia la vida adulta se narra en muchísimos pasajes con una mezcla de inocencia, confusión y poesía, llenas de metáforas, a veces muy graciosas como en el caso de sus dudas sobre la concepción, que reflejan con precisión la perplejidad del niño ante un mundo que empieza a volverse complejo: “ -¿cómo se siembra la semilla? ”-, y la confusión de las explicaciones del señor Gruffydd: �� - …crecerás hasta hacerte un hombre y en ese momento custodiarás la semilla….La guardarás dentro de ti, hecha a partir de tu propia sangre y lista para cuando llegue el momento de la siembra, en esas partes tuyas que son distintas a las de la chica….Te unificarás a la mujer que será tu esposa…” Y el pequeño Huw responde “ Pero me unificaré, ¿cómo, señor?... ”
Esa confusión desemboca más adelante en un descubrimiento del sexo narrado con un lirismo desbordante, casi visionario, donde la experiencia se transforma en música, colores, lunas en llamas y un universo recién nacido. La famosa frase “Qué verde era mi valle aquel día” adquiere todo su sentido simbólico, la plenitud de un instante irrepetible… “ Qué verde era mi valle aquel día, sí que lo era, verde y luminoso al sol ”.
Frente a esta belleza, la novela no oculta el trabajo duro y la amenaza constante de la mina, descrita como una entidad viva y devoradora, una tierra que reclama de vuelta la carne que le fue arrancada. La personificación de la mina y de la muerte bajo tierra añade una dimensión casi mítica al trabajo minero, subrayando el sacrificio cotidiano de quienes descienden a ella. “ Así que nos espera y, cuando nos encuentra, se nos echa encima y, al echarse encima, nos hace parte de ella, carne de su carne, y nuestra arcilla sustituye a la que tan desconsideradamente le hemos arrebatado a paladas… ”
Me ha sorprendido en la obra un sentimiento patriótico curioso, propio de Gales: una identidad orgullosa y diferenciada frente a Inglaterra, pero al mismo tiempo profundamente monárquica. El día en que uno de los hijos canta ante la Reina se convierte en uno de los mayores motivos de orgullo para el padre, revelando las contradicciones y matices de una comunidad que ama su tierra sin dejar de venerar ciertos símbolos del poder.
Se podrían mencionar mil momentos o pasajes, pero más allá de los episodios concretos, lo más logrado reside en su voz narrativa, impregnada de nostalgia, que contempla la vida pasada con una ternura lúcida, consciente de su pérdida, y con un tono íntimo y contenido, un lirismo muy sencillo que surge de manera natural, sin ornamento excesivo, como si la belleza naciera de la propia mirada con que se recuerda, creando una atmósfera emocional envolvente, donde la melancolía convive con el orgullo, el dolor con la gratitud, y escrita desde el amor a un mundo humilde, duro y ya desaparecido.
August 24, 2019
An enjoyable story with lovely characters! I didn't want it to end!
A big thank you to my Goodread friends, Marilyn and Tracey, for the push to read such a delightful, warm hearted book!
A big thank you to my Goodread friends, Marilyn and Tracey, for the push to read such a delightful, warm hearted book!
March 17, 2019
Arguably the finest book I have ever read.Llewellyn's novel of a young boy growing up in Welsh coal mining country at the turn of the 20th Century is so realistic it was believed for years to be autobiographical, a myth Llewellyn himself did not discourage.
The prose is so lyrical I found myself reading it aloud to my dogs, who are used to my declamations, often in dialect. Fortunately, I do not do Welsh, so they only had to hear me speak Educated North American.
If you have not read this treasure, do so with all haste.
The prose is so lyrical I found myself reading it aloud to my dogs, who are used to my declamations, often in dialect. Fortunately, I do not do Welsh, so they only had to hear me speak Educated North American.
If you have not read this treasure, do so with all haste.
October 13, 2014
My sister gave me her copy of this book in a big sack of books and snacks and magazines the morning my husband and I set out to drive across the country, moving to Delaware from Utah. I started out reading it silently to myself, but after a chapter or so I had to start reading it aloud to my husband. The writing was so gorgeous, so tender and deeply felt, that I couldn't not share it. Even now, almost seventeen years later, I can remember entire passages word for word. I'm pretty sure I could tell you each episode of the book, in order. There's no plot here, it's a series of episodes or vignettes in the life of young Huw, growing up in a mining town in Wales. His family, his friends, are all here, painted with loving clarity. Such a beautiful book . . . now that I'm writing this I think I need to get my own copy and reread it. I kept my sister's copy for years, and would occasionally take it down to read a page or two.
August 8, 2023
Well, I'm rather disappointed with this apparent 'classic' as quite honestly it was such a slog to get through. I tried, I really did, but I just couldn't warm to this one, and it baffles me as to how this book is so popular.
The writing itself was fine, but nothing terribly exciting happened, and if it did, it took our characters so many pages to get there, leaving everything long-winded and tedious. I was rather hopeful more than a couple of times assuming that this was where the plot would thicken, but no, nothing really happened, and my life hasn't improved by me reading this.
The writing itself was fine, but nothing terribly exciting happened, and if it did, it took our characters so many pages to get there, leaving everything long-winded and tedious. I was rather hopeful more than a couple of times assuming that this was where the plot would thicken, but no, nothing really happened, and my life hasn't improved by me reading this.
October 5, 2025
huw morgan, galler’in yemyeşil vadisinde, kömür madenciliğiyle geçinen kalabalık ailesiyle birlikte yaşarken, zamanla o vadiyi saran yeşilin tıpkı insanların yüreğindeki umut gibi yavaş yavaş kaybolduğuna tanık oluruz.
kitap boyunca doğayla iç içe bir yaşamın, dayanışmanın ve aile bağlarının sıcaklığını hissederken, bir yandan da sınıf ayrımları, işçi hakları mücadelesi, değişen değerler ve göç gibi acı gerçeklerle yüzleşiriz. huw’un yolculuğu, hem kişisel hem de toplumsal bir çöküşün izlerini taşıyor aslında. ve öyle içten bir kitap ki, bazı satırları defalarca okuyup durdum. sanırım uzun bir süre huw’u ve o vadiyi unutamayacağım!
kitap boyunca doğayla iç içe bir yaşamın, dayanışmanın ve aile bağlarının sıcaklığını hissederken, bir yandan da sınıf ayrımları, işçi hakları mücadelesi, değişen değerler ve göç gibi acı gerçeklerle yüzleşiriz. huw’un yolculuğu, hem kişisel hem de toplumsal bir çöküşün izlerini taşıyor aslında. ve öyle içten bir kitap ki, bazı satırları defalarca okuyup durdum. sanırım uzun bir süre huw’u ve o vadiyi unutamayacağım!
July 10, 2009
I'm having a hard time figuring out how to rate this book.
On the one hand I recognize that it is beautifully written. Possibly the most beautifully written prose I've ever read. But beautiful prose isn't really that exciting to me. It kept putting me to sleep and it was taking FOREVER to get through the book. Finally after almost a month when I was at around page 300 I decided to start skipping "the irrelevant stuff." My husband asked how I knew I wasn't missing anything important. I told him I'd already read more than 300 pages so I had a pretty good feel for what I need to read in order to follow the plot.
I felt like I had been very patiently waiting for the author to set the stage and give me all of the background and let me get to know the characters. But I was out of patience and I was ready to find out what this book was really about. I wanted to know "what happens."
But nothing ever does. Not really. I mean all of the little story lines were interesting. I liked all of the characters and I genuinely cared about what happened to them. But I really missed the big picture. It just wasn't enough for me.
And so I can't rate the book very high, because that would be like recommending it, which I don't really. But I can't rate it low because that would be like saying it's not a good book which it obviously is. I just didn't love it.
On the one hand I recognize that it is beautifully written. Possibly the most beautifully written prose I've ever read. But beautiful prose isn't really that exciting to me. It kept putting me to sleep and it was taking FOREVER to get through the book. Finally after almost a month when I was at around page 300 I decided to start skipping "the irrelevant stuff." My husband asked how I knew I wasn't missing anything important. I told him I'd already read more than 300 pages so I had a pretty good feel for what I need to read in order to follow the plot.
I felt like I had been very patiently waiting for the author to set the stage and give me all of the background and let me get to know the characters. But I was out of patience and I was ready to find out what this book was really about. I wanted to know "what happens."
But nothing ever does. Not really. I mean all of the little story lines were interesting. I liked all of the characters and I genuinely cared about what happened to them. But I really missed the big picture. It just wasn't enough for me.
And so I can't rate the book very high, because that would be like recommending it, which I don't really. But I can't rate it low because that would be like saying it's not a good book which it obviously is. I just didn't love it.
August 19, 2016
3.5 Stars
So is this a good book?
Yes.
Did I feel the magic of it?
Sadly, No.
Why not?
I wish I knew.
Sometimes, a book pulls you and holds you and it becomes your special possession forever more. Many people have that kind of experience with How Green Was My Valley. I truly thought I would as well. But it didn't happen for me.
It was worth reading but....what can I say?
There is something missing, there is. My heart never became involved.
So is this a good book?
Yes.
Did I feel the magic of it?
Sadly, No.
Why not?
I wish I knew.
Sometimes, a book pulls you and holds you and it becomes your special possession forever more. Many people have that kind of experience with How Green Was My Valley. I truly thought I would as well. But it didn't happen for me.
It was worth reading but....what can I say?
There is something missing, there is. My heart never became involved.
December 4, 2013
I read this book on a cold weekend in a house built on a rock on the heights of Meghamalai, a mountain in the range we call the Western Ghats in southern India. And the whole time I was in another world. A world of simple people, simpler lives, great food, family, values and a connection to nature that has since then been completely lost.
I found myself lamenting the loss of the time Huw Morgan speaks of, cursing the slag heaps, mourning Ivor's death, and watched in horror as communism clashed with market forces in the collieries of Wales.
I know Richard Llewellyn wasn't Welsh, but that doesn't take anything away from the story he has told us. It echoes with meaning, with poetry and the smell of the mountain air. It reminds us of the life we are capable of living and contrasts it with the life we choose to live. It is less a story, more a portrait of a way of life.
I was struck most by the emotion which binds the book, start to finish. There is no point, not one, when the author's words do not feel charged and laden with meaning. There are electrifying passages, scintillating sentences, and all this time, there is a certain music in the background, a slow buzzing that means something. Reading the book was an experience.
Reading How Green was my Valley reminded me again why I read the classics, why I go back to these old books. Not just because they have so much to teach us, not just because of all the world's history they contain, but just to remind us of what we have lost, and what we'll lose still.
The last 50 or so pages had me in tears. When Davy and Ianto leave home and aren't able to say goodbye to their mother, when Huw tries to rescue his father from the pit, his mother's cries. Emotions laid bare, cold, powerful, timeless. This book is treasure.
I found myself lamenting the loss of the time Huw Morgan speaks of, cursing the slag heaps, mourning Ivor's death, and watched in horror as communism clashed with market forces in the collieries of Wales.
I know Richard Llewellyn wasn't Welsh, but that doesn't take anything away from the story he has told us. It echoes with meaning, with poetry and the smell of the mountain air. It reminds us of the life we are capable of living and contrasts it with the life we choose to live. It is less a story, more a portrait of a way of life.
I was struck most by the emotion which binds the book, start to finish. There is no point, not one, when the author's words do not feel charged and laden with meaning. There are electrifying passages, scintillating sentences, and all this time, there is a certain music in the background, a slow buzzing that means something. Reading the book was an experience.
Reading How Green was my Valley reminded me again why I read the classics, why I go back to these old books. Not just because they have so much to teach us, not just because of all the world's history they contain, but just to remind us of what we have lost, and what we'll lose still.
The last 50 or so pages had me in tears. When Davy and Ianto leave home and aren't able to say goodbye to their mother, when Huw tries to rescue his father from the pit, his mother's cries. Emotions laid bare, cold, powerful, timeless. This book is treasure.
August 1, 2009
A few times in my reading life I have been so been so touched by a book that when it is over I feel a great loss and literally clasp the book to my chest like a loved-one just departed.
Some one once said, after seeing the beauty of Alaska, that he wished he had seen it as an old man, for it's magnificent beauty would surely spoil any scene he would ever see after. That's how I feel about this lovely, beautiful, wonderful book. I am afraid nothing I read will ever make me feel like this. I feel quite touched by it.
It's about a small coal-mining village in Wales and the people in it. The focus is on a big wonderful family that loves each other very much though they sure do have their share of trouble. The point of view is that of Huw, beginning when he is just 6 years old and going all the way to his middle age. The prose is, well, poetry. I collected my favorite bits in a list on the bag page but there are too many to fit here. Here's but a few:
"Beautiful were the days that are gone, and O, for them to be back. The mountain was green, and proud with a good covering of oak and ash, and washing his feet in a streaming river clear as the eyes of God. The winds came down with the scents of the grass and wild flowers, putting a sweetness to our noses, and taking away so that nobody could tell what beauty had been stolen, only that the winds were old robbers who took something from each grass and flower and gave it back again, and gave a little to each of us, and took it away again."
"...a tidy house, but open to the weather, and the winds had choir practice whenever they could on every side of it."
"Ceinwen was in my mind, and I kept her there as men keep libraries of rare books, seldom to be touched but happy to know you have got."
I wonder if anyone could ever write such a masterpiece again. If I ever thought I could be a writer, I don't now. I suppose I am just a reader, a proper bibliophile. With books like this, it's enough.
Some one once said, after seeing the beauty of Alaska, that he wished he had seen it as an old man, for it's magnificent beauty would surely spoil any scene he would ever see after. That's how I feel about this lovely, beautiful, wonderful book. I am afraid nothing I read will ever make me feel like this. I feel quite touched by it.
It's about a small coal-mining village in Wales and the people in it. The focus is on a big wonderful family that loves each other very much though they sure do have their share of trouble. The point of view is that of Huw, beginning when he is just 6 years old and going all the way to his middle age. The prose is, well, poetry. I collected my favorite bits in a list on the bag page but there are too many to fit here. Here's but a few:
"Beautiful were the days that are gone, and O, for them to be back. The mountain was green, and proud with a good covering of oak and ash, and washing his feet in a streaming river clear as the eyes of God. The winds came down with the scents of the grass and wild flowers, putting a sweetness to our noses, and taking away so that nobody could tell what beauty had been stolen, only that the winds were old robbers who took something from each grass and flower and gave it back again, and gave a little to each of us, and took it away again."
"...a tidy house, but open to the weather, and the winds had choir practice whenever they could on every side of it."
"Ceinwen was in my mind, and I kept her there as men keep libraries of rare books, seldom to be touched but happy to know you have got."
I wonder if anyone could ever write such a masterpiece again. If I ever thought I could be a writer, I don't now. I suppose I am just a reader, a proper bibliophile. With books like this, it's enough.
April 2, 2015
3.5 stars - Spoilers
A rather lovely and quaint coming of age story. It did take a while to get into and was quite slow and boring towards the end, but other than that it was a great read.
-How Green Was My Valley seemed like less of a story and more like a pleasant stroll through the early years of someone's life. More specifically Huw Morgan's life, with him reminiscing about his childhood and the valley that was his home. There was no real solid plot, just Huw looking back at his family, and the many changes/ups and downs he (and his family) had to face. It was delightful to just read about Huw growing up and his everyday life in the valley and the simplicity and struggle of it all.
-I adored the old fashioned, picturesque setting. The valley and mining community was portrayed so vividly and beautifully, it was easy to see why Huw loved his valley/home.
-I enjoyed Huw's character for the most part, he was much more endearing when he was younger though. I didn't find him as interesting when he was older, he seemed to lose all his charm and depth and just wasn't all that likeable. Thankfully, most of the book was about his childhood rather than his adulthood.
-I found Huw's parents quite irritating, Gwilym was so self righteous and Beth was so backwards, I guess that was realistic though for the time. Gwil and Beth's relationship was beautiful though, the love they had for each other was so pure and sweet. Even though they were great together as a couple, they were rubbish parents, I hated how they ruined Angharad's life by pushing her to marry Iestyn instead of Gruffydd. They should have known better than anyone that love would have made Angharard far, far more happier than marrying someone rich. I also hated Gruffydd for not fighting for Angharad, if he had trusted her and had faith in her (and himself) he could have saved them both from a soulless existence, instead they both ended up depressed and lonely.
-I didn't enjoy all the melodramatic metaphorical nonsense that Huw monologued about when it came to romantic love, sex, and singing/choir stuff. It was so over the top, flowery and ridiculous. Thankfully, Huw for the most part spent his time banging on about other more interesting coming-of-age stuff.
-The Marged story arc was beyond ridiculous, I didn't buy her going crazy and setting herself on fire just because of Owen. Her whole relationship with Owen occurred over the course of a few days, they didn't have a long romance or a deep connection of any kind. Their relationship consisted entirely of a few kisses and half-hearted promises over the course of a week. But for some bizarre reason Marged never recovered from his rejection, even when she got married to Gwilym (who she knew better and had far more of a bond with). Yea, Owen was barely in her life long enough for him to have such an effect on her. The whole thing was daft, if their courtship had been longer or they'd been childhood sweethearts or something then her Owen-related madness/death might have been plausible but that wasn't the case. Ugh, I hated what happened to Marged, so bloody nonsensical.
-Even though it was all fictional, the insight into the mining world, and the struggle and fight for fair wages was fascinating (as well as infuriating). It was no doubt a true enough refection on how badly miners and other such workers were treated in those days, it really made me glad not to live in such crappy, hopeless times.
-Loved the Welsh brogue, it added to the atmosphere and really gave the tight knit community a genuine feel.
-I was disappointed with where the story ended, I would have liked to know more about Huw's family and the valley. What happened to Ceinwen? Did she get to go to London and act? Did Bronwen remarry? Did Angharad and Gruffydd ever find some kind of peace and happiness in Patagonia/Cape Town? How did Beth cope without Gwil? Did the Morgan family ever reunite or keep in contact with each other or did they stay apart their whole lives? I really wanted to continue on with their stories and find out what happened to them.
-Apparently, there's three more books about Huw's life but they sound like utter rubbish, and seem to revolve solely around Huw being rich and horny. Yea, I'd rather read about Huw's family than grown-up-immoral-unfaithful-Huw-who-cares-nothing-for-his-childhood-or-the-lessons-he-learnt. I'll have to make do with just this book.
A rather lovely and quaint coming of age story. It did take a while to get into and was quite slow and boring towards the end, but other than that it was a great read.
-How Green Was My Valley seemed like less of a story and more like a pleasant stroll through the early years of someone's life. More specifically Huw Morgan's life, with him reminiscing about his childhood and the valley that was his home. There was no real solid plot, just Huw looking back at his family, and the many changes/ups and downs he (and his family) had to face. It was delightful to just read about Huw growing up and his everyday life in the valley and the simplicity and struggle of it all.
-I adored the old fashioned, picturesque setting. The valley and mining community was portrayed so vividly and beautifully, it was easy to see why Huw loved his valley/home.
-I enjoyed Huw's character for the most part, he was much more endearing when he was younger though. I didn't find him as interesting when he was older, he seemed to lose all his charm and depth and just wasn't all that likeable. Thankfully, most of the book was about his childhood rather than his adulthood.
-I found Huw's parents quite irritating, Gwilym was so self righteous and Beth was so backwards, I guess that was realistic though for the time. Gwil and Beth's relationship was beautiful though, the love they had for each other was so pure and sweet. Even though they were great together as a couple, they were rubbish parents, I hated how they ruined Angharad's life by pushing her to marry Iestyn instead of Gruffydd. They should have known better than anyone that love would have made Angharard far, far more happier than marrying someone rich. I also hated Gruffydd for not fighting for Angharad, if he had trusted her and had faith in her (and himself) he could have saved them both from a soulless existence, instead they both ended up depressed and lonely.
-I didn't enjoy all the melodramatic metaphorical nonsense that Huw monologued about when it came to romantic love, sex, and singing/choir stuff. It was so over the top, flowery and ridiculous. Thankfully, Huw for the most part spent his time banging on about other more interesting coming-of-age stuff.
-The Marged story arc was beyond ridiculous, I didn't buy her going crazy and setting herself on fire just because of Owen. Her whole relationship with Owen occurred over the course of a few days, they didn't have a long romance or a deep connection of any kind. Their relationship consisted entirely of a few kisses and half-hearted promises over the course of a week. But for some bizarre reason Marged never recovered from his rejection, even when she got married to Gwilym (who she knew better and had far more of a bond with). Yea, Owen was barely in her life long enough for him to have such an effect on her. The whole thing was daft, if their courtship had been longer or they'd been childhood sweethearts or something then her Owen-related madness/death might have been plausible but that wasn't the case. Ugh, I hated what happened to Marged, so bloody nonsensical.
-Even though it was all fictional, the insight into the mining world, and the struggle and fight for fair wages was fascinating (as well as infuriating). It was no doubt a true enough refection on how badly miners and other such workers were treated in those days, it really made me glad not to live in such crappy, hopeless times.
-Loved the Welsh brogue, it added to the atmosphere and really gave the tight knit community a genuine feel.
-I was disappointed with where the story ended, I would have liked to know more about Huw's family and the valley. What happened to Ceinwen? Did she get to go to London and act? Did Bronwen remarry? Did Angharad and Gruffydd ever find some kind of peace and happiness in Patagonia/Cape Town? How did Beth cope without Gwil? Did the Morgan family ever reunite or keep in contact with each other or did they stay apart their whole lives? I really wanted to continue on with their stories and find out what happened to them.
-Apparently, there's three more books about Huw's life but they sound like utter rubbish, and seem to revolve solely around Huw being rich and horny. Yea, I'd rather read about Huw's family than grown-up-immoral-unfaithful-Huw-who-cares-nothing-for-his-childhood-or-the-lessons-he-learnt. I'll have to make do with just this book.
July 10, 2016
The title, How Green Was My Valley is a giveaway. We know the beautiful green valley is going to change and probably not for the better. This isn't going to be a happy story—or anyway, not one with a happy ending. Or so were my thoughts going into this book. Somehow I missed the 1941 movie* of the same name—and it had Maureen O'Hara no less, one of my all-time favorite actresses. Although Richard Llewellyn's book was first published in 1939 and sounded really familiar I don't remember ever reading it before now. Unusual for me, I waited to read anything about HGWMV until after I finished it. My only 'background', if you can call it that, were the several times back in the early 1980's when I visited Wales. It is truly beautiful!
So everything is there for the perfect book: haunting coming-of-age-story; immensely likable main character, Huw; large, varied and loving family; idyllic setting—the 'green valley' of a Welch mining town; romance, drama and humor, even if it's all set to change. It's hard to say much about the book without giving the story away which I don't appreciate so I won't. But I keep seeing the green valleys of Wales in my mind now in a new way. When I drove there as a young US Air Force Lieutenant on a holiday they were beautiful scenery, lovely to look at and photograph. Now I see and remember them as homes, workplaces and graves of real people.
An unforgettable story.
*I'm going to have fix that!
Jun 28, 2016: This is my book-candy when Apologia Pro Vita Sua gets my head too fogged up! It's a bitter sweet little story which I can already tell isn't going to end especially happily, but I've fallen in love with the characters and the setting so that doesn't matter. I have to read it.
So everything is there for the perfect book: haunting coming-of-age-story; immensely likable main character, Huw; large, varied and loving family; idyllic setting—the 'green valley' of a Welch mining town; romance, drama and humor, even if it's all set to change. It's hard to say much about the book without giving the story away which I don't appreciate so I won't. But I keep seeing the green valleys of Wales in my mind now in a new way. When I drove there as a young US Air Force Lieutenant on a holiday they were beautiful scenery, lovely to look at and photograph. Now I see and remember them as homes, workplaces and graves of real people.
An unforgettable story.
*I'm going to have fix that!
Jun 28, 2016: This is my book-candy when Apologia Pro Vita Sua gets my head too fogged up! It's a bitter sweet little story which I can already tell isn't going to end especially happily, but I've fallen in love with the characters and the setting so that doesn't matter. I have to read it.
June 8, 2011
I'm afraid I was just glad to finally be done with How Green Was My Valley. It's one of the most popular of the Welsh books I've read -- the one whose popularity has been most enduring, anyway -- and it's hard to understand why, when comparing the cloyingly nostalgic and sentimental story here to the vivacious and real work of Jack Jones and even Caradoc Evans. I guess that's it, though: it's nostalgic and sentimental and it lets the reader feel all weepy about industrialised Wales, without anger or overt political leanings. B.L. Coombes and Lewis Jones weren't mourning for a hopelessly lost past, but arguing in their moment for change, for fairness, for their lives.
Richard Llewellyn was writing after the fact, I read, based on other people's memories. He didn't live it, so he could afford to look on it with purple-prose tinted glasses. And I wonder how much he came in contact with Welsh Nonconformism, because the chapel was a part of his story but it definitely didn't have the same effect I see even in more modern Welsh work like Emyr Humphreys'.
So, maybe I would have enjoyed How Green Was My Valley more if I hadn't read it at the same time as I was reading the hard, unshowy works by working class writers who were also miners. It definitely suffered in comparison with the passion of those, and spoke much more to nostalgia. It does capture something of Wales, I think -- parts of it made me feel hiraeth so fiercely -- and parts of the story are compelling, but I don't want to pine after a long-gone Wales. The work of the miner-writers might no longer be relevant, but Wales was very alive to them, and I'd rather spend time with that.
Richard Llewellyn was writing after the fact, I read, based on other people's memories. He didn't live it, so he could afford to look on it with purple-prose tinted glasses. And I wonder how much he came in contact with Welsh Nonconformism, because the chapel was a part of his story but it definitely didn't have the same effect I see even in more modern Welsh work like Emyr Humphreys'.
So, maybe I would have enjoyed How Green Was My Valley more if I hadn't read it at the same time as I was reading the hard, unshowy works by working class writers who were also miners. It definitely suffered in comparison with the passion of those, and spoke much more to nostalgia. It does capture something of Wales, I think -- parts of it made me feel hiraeth so fiercely -- and parts of the story are compelling, but I don't want to pine after a long-gone Wales. The work of the miner-writers might no longer be relevant, but Wales was very alive to them, and I'd rather spend time with that.
November 30, 2015
Lovely writing in this story of a Welsh family in a coal-mining village (I think in the Rhondda valley area altough the author didn't specify) from about 1890 to 1910.
While ostensibly about the Morgan family, this novel is documenting the end of an era. I had seen the film but years ago and I was struck when reading this by the similarities to the more recent film "Brassed Off" about the colliery closings in northern England (Yorkshire?) during Margaret Thatcher's time. Different times and places but the same loss of a way of life & the same sense of sadness.
Some of Llewellyn's descriptions caught my breath such as this one of Angharad when fighting with 14-year-old Huw:
" 'I hate you,' she said, and wrapped her cloak round her so that she was a black pillar, with a white face and her eyes with glitter and shine to make you afraid."
Even though I knew the ending, I found myself weeping. It wasn't just And the loss of the family home which is being buried by the slag heaps (as the reader knows from the very first page) just makes it all more poignant.
While ostensibly about the Morgan family, this novel is documenting the end of an era. I had seen the film but years ago and I was struck when reading this by the similarities to the more recent film "Brassed Off" about the colliery closings in northern England (Yorkshire?) during Margaret Thatcher's time. Different times and places but the same loss of a way of life & the same sense of sadness.
Some of Llewellyn's descriptions caught my breath such as this one of Angharad when fighting with 14-year-old Huw:
" 'I hate you,' she said, and wrapped her cloak round her so that she was a black pillar, with a white face and her eyes with glitter and shine to make you afraid."
Even though I knew the ending, I found myself weeping. It wasn't just And the loss of the family home which is being buried by the slag heaps (as the reader knows from the very first page) just makes it all more poignant.
October 23, 2007
My mother must have acquired this book shortly after it came out in America. Her mother was born in Wales, not from a mining family, I don’t think. Anyway, read her copy when I was twelve, and I still own it. (My mother had died by then, and my grandmother died before I was born so I never met my grandmother; I think the book made me feel closer to that part of the family. I had met a couple of the (Jewish) Welsh relatives when they visited the U.S.) But I remember that I did really like the family story and the writing style. Appreciated the Guide to Pronunciation of Welsh names that’s in the back of the book, even though it was only somewhat helpful.
December 21, 2014
The 2 stars is really because I feel flat out terrible leaving just 1 star, so I rounded up from the barely 1.5 stars it scraped in my opinion.
I tried. I promise, I really did try. This book has been hailed in my family for generations. The book I read was actually my mom's when she was growing up. My family is Welsh so of course this has been held in extremely high esteem since I can remember. My mom has nagged me to read it since I was a teenager, and here I am, SO disappointed and trying to scrape my body off the carpet where I metaphorically died of boredom.
It really is well written, beautiful prose, but it was just so slow moving. It took 15 pages for them to walk up a hill. 10 pages for them to have a family dinner. I still stubbornly would hype myself up about getting another couple chapters in, but inevitably would have to admit..
I'll be honest, the entire second half of the book I completely skimmed. Don't worry, though, I will be able to rest just fine tonight because I'm totally confident I didn't miss anything.
I tried. I promise, I really did try. This book has been hailed in my family for generations. The book I read was actually my mom's when she was growing up. My family is Welsh so of course this has been held in extremely high esteem since I can remember. My mom has nagged me to read it since I was a teenager, and here I am, SO disappointed and trying to scrape my body off the carpet where I metaphorically died of boredom.
It really is well written, beautiful prose, but it was just so slow moving. It took 15 pages for them to walk up a hill. 10 pages for them to have a family dinner. I still stubbornly would hype myself up about getting another couple chapters in, but inevitably would have to admit..
I'll be honest, the entire second half of the book I completely skimmed. Don't worry, though, I will be able to rest just fine tonight because I'm totally confident I didn't miss anything.
March 26, 2016
3 stars - It was good.
What a difficult book to rate! I found this book to be very atmospheric with beautiful passages of quote-worthy prose and really enjoyed the Welsh dialect. BUT, it just felt so incredibly slow for most of the book, and I found the self righteousness of the characters (and of the time) to grow stale and repetitive.
It seemed odd that the book began with the main character leaving the valley, yet as the story of his childhood and coming of age unfolds, you never get to the point where he came to the decision to leave the valley. Unfortunately, I never felt fully invested in the characters or engaged in the story which made it difficult to pick back up when there are so many other books whispering my name....
A mixed bag, but overall an enjoyable read simply due to the author's poetic way with words and depiction of Wales.
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Favorite Quote: The man is made of stone who will see a woman in her tears and keep voice and hands to himself.
First Sentence: I am going to pack my two shirts with my other socks and my best suit in the little blue cloth my mother used to tie round her hair when she did the house, and I am going from the Valley.
What a difficult book to rate! I found this book to be very atmospheric with beautiful passages of quote-worthy prose and really enjoyed the Welsh dialect. BUT, it just felt so incredibly slow for most of the book, and I found the self righteousness of the characters (and of the time) to grow stale and repetitive.
It seemed odd that the book began with the main character leaving the valley, yet as the story of his childhood and coming of age unfolds, you never get to the point where he came to the decision to leave the valley. Unfortunately, I never felt fully invested in the characters or engaged in the story which made it difficult to pick back up when there are so many other books whispering my name....
A mixed bag, but overall an enjoyable read simply due to the author's poetic way with words and depiction of Wales.
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Favorite Quote: The man is made of stone who will see a woman in her tears and keep voice and hands to himself.
First Sentence: I am going to pack my two shirts with my other socks and my best suit in the little blue cloth my mother used to tie round her hair when she did the house, and I am going from the Valley.
April 13, 2021
If you are a fan of the movie, you will love this book. If you’ve never seen the movie, do yourself a favor and read the book first. I watched the movie after finishing the book, and there are so many details that are lost in the movie. This is a beautiful portrait of what life was like in a small Welsh coalmining town in the early 1900’s. The book begins with Huw Morgan looking back over his life and mourning having to leave his home due to coal slag overtaking the village. Huw is the youngest son in a large family and a lot of the book covers his brothers and sisters and their loves and heartbreaks as they come of age and marry and leave home. A great deal of the book covers the hard life of the coal miners and their struggles with mine owners to earn a livable wage and the unsafe conditions they work in. This timeless classic won the National Book award and Huw and his family and their struggles and joy will stay in my mind for a long time to come.
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