Pantolwen Press is the publishing imprint of Bryn Glas Books
Its titles are distributed by the Books Council of Wales and Gardners
Based in West Wales, Pantolwen means the Hollow of the Wheel
Pantolwen Press is the publishing imprint of Bryn Glas Books
Its titles are distributed by the Books Council of Wales and Gardners
Based in West Wales, Pantolwen means the Hollow of the Wheel
What would it be like for a man with today’s knowledge of technology to find himself in pre-industrial times? This was a question A G Rivett used to wonder about and dream into. He set pen to paper as an idea for a story began to form in his mind, but put it aside. Returning to it after twenty years, his first sketch developed into The Seaborne.
By the time the book was written, a growing awareness of the pressure of human activity on wildlife and countryside was lending urgency to ideas that had started as simple curiosity.
Can science and technology alone free us from the problems created through their use? Must living standards continually rise? What about the pressures on other life forms? And the interdependence between them and us? And what does a high standard of living actually mean? What values truly give quality to our lives?
When her husband the priest dies, Morag loses more than her life partner. With him goes her home and her place in the community. In addition to these misfortunes, in a society that sets great store by lineage, she is challenged about the mysterious identity of her mother, and it is this that sets her on a quest of discovery that comes up, at first, upon a blank, but in time leads her to the circle of the island’s ‘Guardians’, who mediate her discovery of her mother’s identity, and, step by step, her own deeper self-knowing and self-acceptance.
When Aidan, the new priest, undertakes a campaign to upturn the township’s spirituality, which has accommodated older druidical forms alongside the Christ story, both he, and the community, are set on a collision course.
Quote from The Priest’s Wife by A. G. Rivett
ʻSo itʼs come, Antie.ʼ
Morag looked at her sharply.
ʻWhat?ʼ
ʻYer time. Yeʼll be needed, donʼt ye ken?ʼ