Much has been made of the importance of Ianto as the first memorable Welsh anti-hero, and yet for me it's the supporting characters who reek of authenticity and make this book unforgettable. I once knew a lad who hailed from Caernarvon, and reading this it was almost like meeting him again - the same combination of hedonistic recklessness and morose cynicism. I can well believe that in every small town in the West of Wales, there's a group of friends who would read Sheepshagger and recognise themselves within minutes.
Ianto's toking- and tripping-buddies perceive him as a semi-mute, antisocial moron, and yet their lifestyles aren't so very different, dominated as they are by thrill-seeking, violence and self-degradation. In one of the three intercut narratives, Ianto's erstwhile mates are huddled in a room together perhaps a year or so after the events of the story, trying to fathom out what turned him into a multiple killer. The irony is, it never occurs to them to ask, "How did WE turn out to be such a bunch of losers?" Lack of opportunity can't explain it - Llyr is a property owner and Marc, we learn, comes from a middle-class family. Perhaps the answer is that they are trapped in, and protected by, a self-referential set of social norms of their own - as long as their conduct is "normal" by their own standards, they never feel the need to justify it.
Another irony is that Ianto, the most aimless and dysfunctional of the entire sorry bunch, is the only one who seems to be capable of generating anger at the injustices he's suffered. As for Llyr, Griff and the other "normal" folk, if they ever feel any discontent with life it never progresses beyond petty xenophobia towards the uber-rich English incomers. They're just too busy getting high and getting laid. It's almost as if apathy and rage are different sides of the same coin.
Many people will be put off by the extremity of the violence, and especially the very distressing sexual abuse scene towards the end. The level of bloodshed and human depravity does at times go beyond what's strictly necessary plot-wise (and in particular I think the sexual abuse element could very well have been left out altogether), but at the same time I feel that if he'd toned down the violence too much, he would have compromised his vision.
This book is bleak but not hopeless, and above all it does not seek to normalise violence. It may not offer much hope of creating a better world, but one is left with the feeling that the world would be a better place if more people were like Niall Griffiths.