If Wishes Were Horses . . .

. . . then this book really would not have been written. Seriously.

Cave-painting Style Horse Key Chain Included!

I'm sorry, William Morrow (imprint of HarperCollins Publishers), but you asked. 

They did. A few weeks ago an HC rep wrote me through the blog, asking if I might like to read and review this new novel, alleging breathlessly, among other things, that it was, best of all, about horses. I love horses + I love to read = why not. Throw wintertime in there, too.

I wrote a book many years ago, so, despite the fact that I put it away forever in a file cabinet drawer, I'm fully aware of how much work it can be. It is hard work. And that comment consists of the entirety of my praise for If Wishes Were Horses.

This novel has about as much to do with horses as I do with world peace. "World peace" is a concept I am familiar with, but other than being kind where I can and sensitive when I'm able, my involvement with world peace is just that, conceptual.

Apparently the author of this book has a conceptual involvement with horses. There are not many horses populating the maudlin swill that is the story line, but I feel terrible for all of them. How else to feel about poor Sadie, a pregnant Quarter horse mare who stands around in the foaling stall wearing a "bridle" all day? She is the one horse who has a line or two; the others have small walk-on parts that offer one thing in common. All of the horses are "spurred," regardless of who is riding them, i.e., Wyatt threw himself up into the saddle again then wheeled the mare around. After leaving the barn [Editor: !], he steered the horse toward a dirt road heading northwest, and he spurred her into a light canter. One horse has to be shot after a ludicrous jumping accident related to impending Alzheimer's (not kidding) but all the others pretty much go through their days on a multi-million-dollar JR Ewing-type spread outside Boca Raton, Florida, getting spurred.

And women. They are the beneficiaries of the author's conceptual understanding as well. First, a caveat. I think of myself as human first, animal-lover second, interested world citizen third, but female, woman, whatever, that's somewhere way down the list. That particular identity just doesn't matter to me. Still, even I couldn't help but notice all the unfortunate women strangling in dick-mitten stereotypes around the story. How could I not? Nearly all of them benefit from the same misogynistic clause: At thirty-five she remained a very attractive woman. Remained? At forty-five, Celia remained an attractive woman. Poor Celia, that 10-years'  difference cost her a "very." Ouch.

Key Chain Includes Awful  Novel, Too!

This is a book that was written with casting in mind, which is really too bad, because it probably will get made into a movie. I'm not including the author photo, but it's easy to believe he imagines himself to be just like Robert Redford in The Horse Whisperer. The Hollywood pitch will go kind of like this: Reeling from the death of his wife and young son at the hands of a drunk driver, wealthy but hurt Wyatt's world is turned upside down when he falls in love with remaining attractive Gabby, widow of the very same drunk who shattered his world! And she has a tortured teenaged son, too! It's time for "Equestrian Therapy," which inevitably culminates in Ride me, baby! This mawkish, predictable and wearily formulaic novel "spurred" me more than once to throw it aside for something better, like the side of a Corn Pops box, but I clawed my way to the end because I just had to know . . . that I knew exactly how it would end. Poor, poor Sadie.

But it is beyond me to understand the key chain that came with the book. Quarter horse? I don't think so. Cave painting.