Spare, needle sharp but threaded through with love of country, language, people, past and future, this profoundly political collection stitches us into a rich tapestry. ‘….silence won’t shape our future… march where you’re standing…’ Owen exhorts. Tough though her message often is, she bends and weaves language lyrically, like a basket holding ‘…fragments… earth scented, dropped, lost, broken…’ but for change to happen we must first learn how to begin, ‘to dance an inner smile.’
Kate Foley
I seem to have been waiting a long time for the voice of a poet such as Ness Owen to burst on to the scene . Her poems lash with life in language that is both luminous and exhilarating. She explores the quirks and enrichment of two languages which sometimes collide or countershade one another. Taut and tender, her meditations make these poems ‘sing’ for ‘canu’ in Welsh has long been the yardstick of a true poet. These poems linger in the mind long after the closing of this book. At last, a poet who dares to embrace with a sense of wonder the two languages of Wales with poems that pulsate on the page. A truly magnificent debut.
Menna Elfyn
Mamiaith is the impressive debut collection of a poet already finding her stride. Her poems are testament to what can be stolen – language, land, selfhood – but the act of writing becomes an empowerment, resistance against life-denying forces. ... grappling with her inheritance of a broken mother-tongue that’s made her ‘tongue-tied’ in written Welsh – yet the poems, both Welsh and English language, serve as shoots of green, the triumph of poesis, attending to what was broken, mending from the past’s pieces.
Quietly but firmly, in poems that are spare, incisive and vibrant, Owen, in making a stand, joins the march, inviting us all along too: ‘(Sing) You can’t turn back/Only walk forward’.
Fiona Owen
Mamiaith is a glorious protest of poems marching determinedly into Cymru’s future with the banner of Cymraeg waving proudly at the fore… Through these poems Ness Owen unapologetically adds her voice to the demand for the indigenous Mamiaith (mother tongue) be given her rightful place in modern Wales and, following Owen’s journey, the reader can only feel a sense of pride that she has found her bilingual song and refuses to be silenced. Infused with the words: Regret in any language looks much the same, This collection is a call-to-arms where the personal becomes political: Zero tolerance / time to gather our stories / together voices will be heard. It is an appeal to celebrate our differences, and to not fear embracing the international community: Heddwch drwy gydymdrech / heddwch i fyd cyfan. Peace through solidarity / peace to the whole world. How do we approach such a seemingly enormous task? We follow the poet’s final words as we close this most enthralling book of poems and step back out into the world: begin with fearlessness.
Sophie McKeand
