Welsh Poet Gwyn writes dashing historical tale

The few writers who have matured and gained life experience before they write their books often display the quality and wisdom that eludes the youthful writer.

Such a mature writer is Richard Gwyn, a Welsh poet who has written several major collections, including "One Night in Icarus Street," "Stone Dog," and more recently, "Walking on Bones" and "Being in Water."

Gwyn studied anthropology at the London School of Economics, then worked as a milkman and sawyer. When he was injured in an industrial accident, he moved to Crete and bought a fishing boat. For nine years he sailed the Mediterranean, meeting all sorts of different people.

He then walked across northern Spain, returned to Wales, married Rose Pallot and they had two daughters together. In the '90s he wrote books about illness and health.

In his heart, Gwyn is still a poet with no desire for fame. "My priority is my wife and children," he said by phone from his home in Cardiff. "Diversity helps in writing novels but I didn't plan any of it. I never thought I would write novels."

Yet his first novel, "The Color of a Dog Running Away," set in the gothic quarter of Barcelona, was published in the United Kingdom in 2005 to surprising popularity. The intriguing title may have something to do with that.

Gwyn explains the 13th-century Cathar idiom in his prologue, saying it "refers to something of an indeterminate or vague and shadowy appearance, perhaps suggesting a fugitive reality."

The description nicely fits his romantic, adventurous, historical novel. And who could ever forget "The Color of a Dog Running Away"?

According to Gwyn, when his book was translated into Portuguese, it came out as "The Donkey Running Away." And in Spanish it was changed to "Woman in the Night," the name of a painting that figures in the plot.

Gwyn's second novel, "Deep Hanging Out," will be published in the UK in 2007. And he has completed a third novel, "The Blue Tent," which no publisher has yet seen.

Writing the first novel got off to a slow start. He was aware that sometimes "poets write a novel that is a bit precious ... just a lot of lovely language." And he desperately didn't want that.

So a decade ago he wrote the first chapter of "Dog" and put it in a drawer. Five years later he finally returned to it and wrote it as he does his poetry — very fast, followed by many drafts. "I made myself write it," he said.

He did little research for the book because he had lived in Barcelona and it left an indelible impression. As he writes, "Barcelona never sleeps, she just turns over, takes a deep breath and puts on a new face."