Welsh language literature for children

Dr. Siwan M. Rosser

Growing up as a Welsh speaker on the Wales-England border has always made me interested in those in-between spaces between people, nations and languages. As a child, I was very aware that the language I spoke at home was not the language of everybody around me.

Outside of the house, Welsh (Cymraeg) belonged to specific, designated areas: school, chapel, occasional trips to the theatre. Opportunities to hear and use the language in everyday life were few and far between as only a handful of people in our village in north-east Wales spoke Welsh.

I knew that this was not the case for all Welsh speakers of my age. Cousins in other parts of the country were surrounded by the language. For them, Welsh was the language of play and arguments in the park, for gossip and exchanges in the shop: in short, the language of life. Reading Welsh language fiction became a way for me to connect to Welsh as the language of the everyday and the extraordinary. 

Through reading I could build and fortify an inner world where things could be imagined, sensed, and experienced in my mother tongue, deepening my understanding of the breadth and depth of knowledge and history that is contained in language. But as I was happily devouring the adventures of heroes such as Luned Bengoch and Twm Sion Cati I was hardly thinking about improving my language skills or cultural knowledge. I just wanted to read a good book.

As a university lecturer specialising in Welsh children’s literature, however, I am drawn to questions of language, culture and identity. Stories of Welsh childhoods, like my own, cannot be separated from the complex sociolinguistic history of the language in the modern age. From the emergence of Welsh language literature for children in the early 19th century through to the present day its history and development is intertwined with the growing influence of English language and culture. Although Welsh would have been the habitual language of most of the population in the nineteenth century, it lacked the social prestige and political power of English – a hangover of the 16th century Acts of Union. As a result, when state education became compulsory in 1870 it was generally accepted (although never legislated) that the only language suitable for the instruction of children would be English. It was left to the Sunday School networks to provide Welsh language education for the young. Although this view was challenged by some reformers and allowances were eventually made for the provision of Welsh in some elementary schools by the beginning of the 20th century, it would be by then an upward struggle. Linguistic marginalisation in education and other formal and public domains such as the legal system and health resulted in a lack of confidence and use, and growing numbers of Welsh speaking children chose not to use the language as adults. A surge in resistance and protest began in the 1960s but legislation and policy changes to support the use of the Welsh language in areas such as education, broadcasting and public services would not be seen until the 1980s. Today, the situation is transformed. Welsh and English are both the official, equal languages of Wales. Specific measures are in place to safeguard and promote the use of Welsh, and the devolved Welsh Government’s current Welsh language strategy is to increase the numbers of Welsh speakers to 1 million by 2050.

Welsh children’s literature has navigated Wales’s bilingual landscape over the past century by both acknowledging and resisting the impact of anglicisation. Welsh authors at the turn of the century were well aware that their young bilingual readers were hungrily devouring the abundance of English adventure stories and romantic fiction that poured from the popular press. They were therefore determined to offer their readers Welsh-language stories which would be just as exciting and stimulating but inscribed with a particular Welshness that would set them apart. In 1911, for instance, the journalist E. Morgan Humphreys published Dirgelwchyr Anialwch ac Ystraeon Eraill (‘The Mystery of the Wilderness and Other Tales’) with the specific aim of attracting boys to read in Welsh, as he feared they would lose interest in the language if their thirst for adventure could only be quenched by reading English. His contemporary, Lizzie Mary Owen (known as ‘Moelona’), penned domestic stories of poor families struggling against the odds who draw strength from their strong sense of Welsh identity and pride. The dedication inscribed in her most popular novel for children, Teulu Bach Nantoer (1913) (‘The Family of Nantoer’), reveals its patriotic intent. She wished not only to create a story that children would enjoy, but one that would inspire them to cherish their language and culture:

I blant Cymru y dymunaf gyflwyno’r llyfr bychan hwn, gan hyderu y cânt ynddo fwynhad, a rhyw gymaint o symbyliad i garu â chariad mawr eu hiaith, eu gwlad, a’u cenedl.

It is to the children of Wales that I wish to present this little book, confident that they will find in it enjoyment, and some impetus to love with great affection their language, their country, and their nation.

There is no doubt that both Humphreys and Moelona were influenced by the writer, scholar, editor and publisher O. M. Edwards who prioritised publications for children above all else. This call to arms, referencing Wales’s ancient princes, is taken from his 1909 essay entitled ‘Angen mwyaf Cymru’ (‘Wales’ greatest need’) and is typical of his passionate rhetoric:

Os ydyw Cymru i fyw, rhaid i rywrai ymdaflu i waith dros y plant. Nid ar faes y gad, ond mewn llenyddiaeth, y mae eisiau Llywelyn a Glyndŵr.

If Wales is to live, one must set to work on behalf of the children. Llywelyn and Glyndŵr are not needed on the battlefield, but in literature.

Edwards’s impassioned plea and dedication led to a resurgence in Welsh writing for children. What had been previously seen as a mainly religious endeavour now became a space for play and imagination. Tales of mischief and myth, by authors such as E. Tegla Davies and Winnie Parry, offered an antidote to the moral tales of the previous century, together with a new appreciation for the importance of illustration. Llyfr Mawr y Plant (‘The Big Book for Children’), a compendium of stories and rhymes with beautiful illustrations, became an instant hit in 1931. Thanks to subsequent editions and later screen adaptations, the Llyfr Mawr and its most endearing characters, such as Wil CwacCwac and Siôn Blewyn Coch, are still very much alive in the collective imagination.

Highlights from the second half of the twentieth century include the novels of Elizabeth Watkin Jones and T. Llew Jones and adaptations of European children’s classics, from Asterix to Pippi Långstrump (Longstocking). Original Welsh titles included Rwdlan, the affable young witch and her best friend Y Dewin Dwl (‘The Silly Wizard’); series fiction about a group of friends called Y Llewod (‘The Lions’); and comics such as Hwyl and Sboncyn. The past twenty years have seen yet more innovation and today, as Bethan Jones’s article in this edition clearly demonstrates, Welsh-language children’s publishing is more varied and colourful than ever, driven by a commitment to embrace the diversity of Welsh childhoods. From a researcher’s point of view, this makes for rich pickings. Experimentations with language and form provide stimulating topics to explore, from the potential of bilingual picture books to support Welsh second language acquisition, to experiments in co-creation to increase the diversity of voices in young adult fiction.

However, despite the creativity and vibrancy of Welsh children’s literature over the decades, and the improved status of Welsh in the political domain in recent years, the lack of sustained, long-term commitment to adequate public funding means that Welsh publishing is all too often threatened by external economic factors. This was the case in the late 1940s and 50s when the Welsh children’s book industry all but collapsed due to the post-war economic slump and the absence of any coordinated national subsidy scheme. From that crisis, a new national funding system eventually emerged in the 1960s and today the industry is underpinned by public funding administered through the Books Council of Wales. But its position is still precarious. This year, following a decade of funding cuts, Welsh publishing faces yet another critical juncture. Giving evidence to the Senedd’s Culture Committee in October 2024, Helgard Krause, Chief Executive of the Books Council of Wales, declared that Welsh publishers currently face an ‘existential crisis’ as the decreased level of funding cannot sustain the industry. As a result, fewer people are working in publishing, and fewer Welsh-medium books are being produced. Considering the Welsh Government’s ambitious target to reach 1 million speakers by 2050 (the 2021 census figure was 538,300), this risk to the volume of publications and the viability of the industry is particularly short-sighted. Books support language acquisition and revitalisation and sustain a vibrant creative industry. And as E. M. Humphreys and Moelona realised more than a century ago, if Welsh publishing cannot offer enticing, relevant and imaginative books that children will enjoy, then young Welsh speakers will simply just read in English, and Welsh will become a less relevant part of their lives.

When people think of Welsh literature, they may perhaps think of dragons and giants, myth and legend. Wales is the land of the Mabinogion and Arthur, after all. But as well as its mythical heritage, Welsh-language children’s literature also draws its inspiration from the lived experiences of children in Wales, children whose experience of languages and culture, of place and identity permeate the way they see the world. Reading offers vital spaces to explore these experiences, to live and imagine them in different realms and contexts, allowing Cymraeg a place to simply be.

Works cited

Humphreys, E. Morgan (1911) Dirgelwchyr Anialwch ac Ystraeon Eraill (‘The Mystery of the Wilderness and Other Tales’). Caernarfon: Cwmni y Cyhoeddwyr Cymreig.

Owen, Lizzie Mary (1913) Teulu Bach Nantoer (‘The Family of Nantoer’). Wrecsam: Hughes a’i Fab.

Edwards, O. M. (1909) Angen mwyaf Cymru (‘Wales’ greatest need’)

https://cy.wikisource.org/wiki/Er_Mwyn_Cymru/Angen_Mwyaf_Cymru

Thomas, Jennie, Williams, J. O. (authors) Williams, J. O., Fraser, Peter (Illus.) (1931) Llyfr Mawr y Plant (‘The Big Book for Children’). Wrecsam: Hughes a’i Fab.

Jones, T. Ll. (1963). Y Ffordd Beryglus: Anturiaethau Twm Siôn Cati. Aberystwyth: Cymdeithas Lyfrau Ceredigion.

Watkin Jones, E. (1946). Luned Bengoch. Lerpwl: Gwasg y Brython.

Tomos, A. (1983). Rala Rwdins: Cyfres Rwdlan. Tal-y-Bont: Y Lolfa.

Parri, Dafydd. Ioan, Ewyn (illus.) (1970) Cyfres Y Llewod. Aberystwyth: Y Lolfa.

Rosser, S. M. (2020). Darllen y Dychymyg. Caerdydd: Gwasg Prifysgol Cymru.

Owen, Ilfor (1949 – 1989) Hwyl. Liverpool

Sboncyn (1980 – 1992) Pen-y-groes, Gwynedd 

Dr. Siwan M. Rosser, Senior Lecturer and Deputy Head of the School of Welsh at Cardiff University, has published works on early Welsh children’s literature, including “Darllen y Dychymyg” (2020) and its English version in “Who Speaks for Welsh Children? Early Welsh Children’s Periodicals” in The Edinburgh History of Children’s Periodicals (2024). She’s also written on “Navigating nationhood, gender, and the Robinsonade” in Welsh novels for children and Welsh translations of Roald Dahl’s children’s novels. Siwan is interested in how children and young adults engage with reading. Her 2017 review of Welsh books for children and young adults explored the relationship between reading for pleasure, language acquisition, and identity formation in a minority language context. Current projects include bilingual picturebooks and diversity and representation in young adult Welsh fiction. She’s also the leading editor of the literary journal Llên Cymru.