All This is Mine [Paperback]

'As the collection progresses, there rises from its blend of comedy and pathos, a universalising, almost mythic quality.' Times Literary Supplement

'poignant views of the joys, sadness and sheer ghastliness of childhood. (And children.)'

Ray French has written a highly engaging and vivid debut novel, which perfectly captures the wild emotions of boyhood...

South Wales, the 1960s - life is hard. Especially for Liam Bennett, ten years old, surrounded by Communists, and with a father who is losing his mind. Then the glamorous Marek Sikorski arrives, and turns Liam's life upside down. Marek's family have fled Communist Poland only to find a red flag flying over the town hall in Crindau. But Marek is determined that Wales should not suffer Poland's fate. Together, he and Liam form the Crindau resistance, and begin attacking trains they believe are bringing a wave of Communists into Wales. Drinking Polish vodka, selling looted cigarettes and making Molotov cocktails, Liam becomes a rebel with a cause. But while he wages his war against international Communism, his parents battle with each other, as his father frantically stockpiles food in fear of the imminent Russian invasion. Steeped in the exuberance and intense camaraderie of childhood, as well as its loneliness and pain, All This Is Mine is a moving, darkly funny novel about boys and men and heroes. It is a tender and sophisticated debut.

An exceptional, funny, d-but novel about growing up in Wales in the 1960s. --This text refers to an alternate Paperback edition.

Ray French was born in Newport, south Wales, to Irish parents. Since leaving university he has worked with people with disabilities, as a stagehand, labourer, cartoonist, archivist and in libraries. He now lives in Leeds, the Milan of the north, with his partner and their daughter.

He fancies himself, doesn’t he?’
Colin didn’t like the way the new boy was ignoring everyone. He was leaning against the wall, eating an apple, gazing up at a jet plane streaking through the thin white clouds.
‘He thinks he’s better than us.’
‘Maybe.’
I wasn’t sure. Still, he’d only started school that morning, he had no right acting so relaxed in our playground. He should have been hovering anxiously on the edge of our game, charging off to fetch the ball every time it went out of play, a big sucking up smile on his face when he rushed back to hand it over, slowly plucking up the courage to ask for a game.
The sides are even.
What if I go on the side that’s losing?
No, it’s too close, there’s only one goal in it.
We were stood around, waiting. Preece had kicked the ball over the wall into the street, then made Joe 90 go and get it. He was taking ages. Preece was fed up waiting. He started walking over to the new boy. I nudged Colin.
‘Look.’
He wasn’t even going to wait till after school, he was going to get him right there, in front of everyone. No hair, staring eyes. Heading straight for him. I held my breath. One of the teachers, Thommo, came round the corner, hands behind his back, whistling The Dam Busters. Preece heard him, turned round and slipped into the bogs for a fag instead. The new boy carried on eating his apple, no idea what a narrow escape he’d had. I could have given him a run down on who to keep in with and who to avoid, might even have offered him the chance to team up with Colin and me. But he didn’t seem bothered whether anyone liked him or not, so now he’d just have to find out how things worked in our school the hard way.
‘About time you spaz!’
Joe 90 was back with the ball. The game restarted with a throw in. Now Preece had gone for a fag, our side was one man down;the new boy could have had a game if he’d wanted, but he just carried on gazing up at the sky, eating his apple.
Marek, that was his name.
***

Preece barged into Marek on the way out of school.
‘Oi! Fucking watch where you’re going, you spaz.’
‘You bumped into me.’
Preece searched his face for signs of nerves, but Marek looked irritated, not scared. A crowd started gathering.
‘Don’t you know who I am?’
‘No.’
Everyone was supposed to have heard of Preece. He shoved his face into Marek’s.
‘You soon will.’
There was some pushing as kids jostled for position, eager not to miss anything.
Marek turned to go, Preece stepped in front of him, pointed to the patch sewn onto his anorak. A white eagle on a red background.
‘What’s that?’
‘The Polish flag.’
‘It’s shit.’
I watched the anger flare up in Marek’s eyes, then him struggling to gain control of it.
‘Excuse me.’
Preece let him past, a sneer on his face. He started making the chicken noise, but Marek didn’t turn round. Preece walked over to his mates and grinned. He wasn’t in any hurry.
***
Colin couldn’t see it.
‘He isn’t chicken.’
‘Oh yeah, then why didn’t he fight him?’
That was a laugh. Colin would have run a mile.
‘I don’t know… but it wasn’t because he was scared of him. It was something else.’
‘Ha!’
‘Ha!’ I shouted back, louder. He was getting on my nerves. We walked the rest of the way to the railway crossing in silence. The sun glinted off the rails. My favourite smell, burning tar, drifted past on the breeze.
‘Why are you taking his side?’
‘Why are you taking Preece’s?’
He hesitated, picked up a stone, threw it at a rusting tin.
‘He’s alright.’
‘He’s a bastard.’
He wouldn’t look at me. I said it again, louder this time.
‘Preece is a bastard. Isn’t he?’
He finally turned and looked at me.
‘Yeah, he is.’
‘What was that? I didn’t hear you.’
‘He’s a bastard.’
I jumped in front, stood in his way.
‘Who’s a bastard?’
‘Preece is.’
‘Then tell him, like this.’
I threw back my head, made a loud hailer with my hands.
‘PREECE – YOU’RE A BASTARD. A BLOODY BAAAA –STAAARD!’
‘Oi you. Watch your language.’
An old man stood on his doorstep, pointing at us. He looked a right miserable old git. I ran across the road, shouting.
‘BASTARD! BASTARD! BASTARD!’
He was shouting something back at me, but I kept on running. I didn’t slow down till I was out of sight. When Colin caught up I put my arm around his shoulder.
‘Silly old bugger.’
‘Yeah, sod him.’
We turned down our street. I took my arm away, in case anyone saw us and thought we were a couple of nancies.