The Dig

Starred review from March 30, 2015
Welsh writer Jones's brutal, lyrical, slim novel centers on two menâwidowed sheep farmer Daniel and an illicit badger baiter known only as âthe big man"âliving in present-day rural Wales. Spare in its plotting, the story follows both men as their paths gradually converge. While Daniel navigates the ordeals of âlambing season" as the reality of his wife's death (by an accidental horse kick) settles in, the big man attempts to stave off the police while searching for the location of his next dig (badgers are captured from underground tunnels). He eventually lands on a section of Daniel's property. While the action of the story is compelling, the real pleasures lie in Jones's language and meditations on grief. In prose that calls to mind both the severity of Cormac McCarthy and the psychological lucidity of John Updike, Jones explores the intricacies of Daniel's mourning (âHe seemed to know the offer of sympathy would be like a gate he'd go crashing through"), as well as the strangeness of timeânot âa thing you live within, but... an element you grow alien to when you become aware of it." The focus on the criminal underbelly of agrarian culture poses a refreshing counterpoint to back-to-the-land idealism.

Starred review from February 1, 2015
A badger baiter and a farmer have an existential pas de deux in rural Wales in this slim, piercing novella, the author's first to be published in the United States.The fourth novel by the Welsh author is set in modern times-there are trucks and cellphones-but Jones' voice makes its setting feel either prehistoric or post-apocalyptic. That's mainly because his language and imagery are persistently visceral when it comes to both men they depict. One is an unnamed "big man" who roots out badgers that are illegally pitted against dogs for sport; the other, Daniel, is a livestock farmer whose wife recently died after she was kicked in the head by a horse. In both cases, Jones' language is deep in the rank muck of rural life: He describes Daniel helping to birth a newborn lamb, grabbing its hooves in the womb, feeling "its fast heartbeat in the chicken-bone cage of its ribs, still wet in his hands from the grease of birth"; after a badger hunt, a wounded dog's artery "was a fraction above the cut and he could see it pump thickly through the dog's skin." The plot is simple, building to a climax as the "big man" encroaches on Daniel's property, but Jones' language is the main point of entry here. Like Cormac McCarthy, Jones can make the everyday sound fraught and biblical: "The townsmen were not used to such darkness nor this level of quietness and they were not restful in it." But though primal, rough-hewn imagery abounds, the novel's chief strength is its depiction of Daniel's grief; in his struggle to keep the farm running on his own and in his recurring memory of happier times with his wife, he's a deeply memorable character who's simply rendered. A persistently dour story that's energized by the author's command of character and mood.

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March 1, 2015

In his first book to be published in America, Welsh author Jones weaves together two quietly, forcefully told tales to offer an indelible portrait of country life. It's not a pretty picture. In one story, a farmer copes with the bone-hard, barely profitable work of raising sheep even as he mourns his wife, lost to a horse's kick. In the second story, a badger baiter deals with his loyal pack of dogs, a policeman who senses he's up to no good, and a badger that fights back. VERDICT Winner of the Jerwood Fiction Uncovered Prize, Jones's perfectly pitched novel will appeal to anyone looking beyond sheer thrills.

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