Alys Conran's fiction, poetry, and translations have been placed in several competitions, including The Bristol Short Story Prize and The Manchester Fiction Prize. Having previously studied Literature at Edinburgh, she completed her MA in Creative Writing at Manchester. She also ran projects to increase access to creative writing and reading among traditionally excluded groups in North Wales. She was recently awarded a scholarship to write a second novel.

This is a very assured debut novel by poet and short-story writer Alys Conran. From the first page the distinctive voices of the characters and the sense of place grip the reader. The two children, Pigeon and Iola, ‘close as crossed fingers’, are at the heart of a tragic story: a tragedy which in one way starts with a stolen ice-cream but also begins with the cruelty and misunderstandings in the lives of generations gone before.Pigeon’s dark stories are a defence against the unbearable reality of his home life but, amplified by the belief of others, they lead to disaster. The contrasted warmth of Iola’s home relies on her lovely, hippy elder sister, Efa. Efa does all she can to protect Iola from the effects of their past – a dead mother, a devastated then absent father, and an embittered Nain whose own suffering deforms Iola’s view of men. The two families exist at a slight distance from the stifling, bubbling, judgemental small north Wales town. Kind individuals who reach out to the children are thwarted by those with malicious memories of their parents’ and grandparents' ‘sins’. However, these exist at the edge of Iola and Pigeon’s world. Only Elfyn (a beautifully drawn character) gives Pigeon a way to put his life together again, but ultimately that cannot happen without Iola also finding completeness. The ending is open but hopeful.Conran tells the story through both Iola’s and Pigeon’s eyes – stories which intertwine but do not always match. The liveliness and even humour of the children’s view of the world mitigates the darkness of the situation. Only occasionally do we see what they do not – the tragi-comic life of Gwyn, the half-Italian ice-cream seller, whose fate is bound up with theirs.This is a book about secrets: the importance of telling, of finding the truth, and sometimes of choosing not to tell. The children’s main language is Welsh and the author uses this from time to time (often with English words mixed in). It is significant when Pigeon builds a defensive English identity, and when he allows his Welsh to return. This is effectively done, even though the primary language of the book is English. Conran sets herself a difficult task to tell such a complex and dark story (extending over about ten years) through ‘narrators’ who are still only teenagers by the end. She succeeds through the imaginative, even poetic strength of the writing and the depth of understanding she shows in even minor characters.

Alys Conran's fiction, poetry, and translations have been placed in several competitions, including The Bristol Short Story Prize and The Manchester Fiction Prize. Having previously studied Literature at Edinburgh, she completed her MA in Creative Writing at Manchester. She also ran projects to increase access to creative writing and reading among traditionally excluded groups in North Wales. She was recently awarded a scholarship to write a second novel.

This is a very assured debut novel by poet and short-story writer Alys Conran. From the first page the distinctive voices of the characters and the sense of place grip the reader. The two children, Pigeon and Iola, ‘close as crossed fingers’, are at the heart of a tragic story: a tragedy which in one way starts with a stolen ice-cream but also begins with the cruelty and misunderstandings in the lives of generations gone before.Pigeon’s dark stories are a defence against the unbearable reality of his home life but, amplified by the belief of others, they lead to disaster. The contrasted warmth of Iola’s home relies on her lovely, hippy elder sister, Efa. Efa does all she can to protect Iola from the effects of their past – a dead mother, a devastated then absent father, and an embittered Nain whose own suffering deforms Iola’s view of men. The two families exist at a slight distance from the stifling, bubbling, judgemental small north Wales town. Kind individuals who reach out to the children are thwarted by those with malicious memories of their parents’ and grandparents' ‘sins’. However, these exist at the edge of Iola and Pigeon’s world. Only Elfyn (a beautifully drawn character) gives Pigeon a way to put his life together again, but ultimately that cannot happen without Iola also finding completeness. The ending is open but hopeful.Conran tells the story through both Iola’s and Pigeon’s eyes – stories which intertwine but do not always match. The liveliness and even humour of the children’s view of the world mitigates the darkness of the situation. Only occasionally do we see what they do not – the tragi-comic life of Gwyn, the half-Italian ice-cream seller, whose fate is bound up with theirs.This is a book about secrets: the importance of telling, of finding the truth, and sometimes of choosing not to tell. The children’s main language is Welsh and the author uses this from time to time (often with English words mixed in). It is significant when Pigeon builds a defensive English identity, and when he allows his Welsh to return. This is effectively done, even though the primary language of the book is English. Conran sets herself a difficult task to tell such a complex and dark story (extending over about ten years) through ‘narrators’ who are still only teenagers by the end. She succeeds through the imaginative, even poetic strength of the writing and the depth of understanding she shows in even minor characters.

Alys Conran's fiction, poetry, and translations have been placed in several competitions, including The Bristol Short Story Prize and The Manchester Fiction Prize. Having previously studied Literature at Edinburgh, she completed her MA in Creative Writing at Manchester. She also ran projects to increase access to creative writing and reading among traditionally excluded groups in North Wales. She was recently awarded a scholarship to write a second novel.

This is a very assured debut novel by poet and short-story writer Alys Conran. From the first page the distinctive voices of the characters and the sense of place grip the reader. The two children, Pigeon and Iola, ‘close as crossed fingers’, are at the heart of a tragic story: a tragedy which in one way starts with a stolen ice-cream but also begins with the cruelty and misunderstandings in the lives of generations gone before.Pigeon’s dark stories are a defence against the unbearable reality of his home life but, amplified by the belief of others, they lead to disaster. The contrasted warmth of Iola’s home relies on her lovely, hippy elder sister, Efa. Efa does all she can to protect Iola from the effects of their past – a dead mother, a devastated then absent father, and an embittered Nain whose own suffering deforms Iola’s view of men. The two families exist at a slight distance from the stifling, bubbling, judgemental small north Wales town. Kind individuals who reach out to the children are thwarted by those with malicious memories of their parents’ and grandparents' ‘sins’. However, these exist at the edge of Iola and Pigeon’s world. Only Elfyn (a beautifully drawn character) gives Pigeon a way to put his life together again, but ultimately that cannot happen without Iola also finding completeness. The ending is open but hopeful.Conran tells the story through both Iola’s and Pigeon’s eyes – stories which intertwine but do not always match. The liveliness and even humour of the children’s view of the world mitigates the darkness of the situation. Only occasionally do we see what they do not – the tragi-comic life of Gwyn, the half-Italian ice-cream seller, whose fate is bound up with theirs.This is a book about secrets: the importance of telling, of finding the truth, and sometimes of choosing not to tell. The children’s main language is Welsh and the author uses this from time to time (often with English words mixed in). It is significant when Pigeon builds a defensive English identity, and when he allows his Welsh to return. This is effectively done, even though the primary language of the book is English. Conran sets herself a difficult task to tell such a complex and dark story (extending over about ten years) through ‘narrators’ who are still only teenagers by the end. She succeeds through the imaginative, even poetic strength of the writing and the depth of understanding she shows in even minor characters.