"Mr. Summerhaye's Horse" - extract 1

The first in a series of extracts from my soon to be published novella. This is the incipit. Please note that this is from an unproofed version and that there might be typos. 

At first his world is his mother. At first he knows nothing but his mother. His mother’s smell, his mother’s warmth in the darkness that surrounds them. 

At first he shivers and stumbles on legs too long for him, and his mother nudges him, his mother reassures him. Stand up, my little one, on your tiny hooves. You are born of the wind and of the desert’s soul. Stand up and soon you will gallop on the barren mountainside, soon you will gallop in the night. 

At first he stays close to his mother, to his mother’s warmth, to his mother’s smell, in the darkness that surrounds them. Trembling on thin, fragile legs too long for him. Holding his head close to her flanks. Why was he thrust into this cold, cold place? Above him, the night, lit by millions of stars. 

He drinks his mother’s milk and his body grows stronger. An insect sings, deep in the night, sings the turning of the earth. He drinks his mother’s milk and stays close to her. And gazes at the stars in wonder, in the darkness that surrounds them. 

The grey and pink lights of dawn surprise him, and he watches with fear the stars disappear. The world is changing, the world is moving. Colours creep into the darkness, chasing it away. His mother’s smell, his mother’s warmth remain, and now he sees his mother’s russet shape. He sees the ground on which they walk, he sees the white dust their hooves raise and the pale, pale skies above. 

The ochre rocks and blue shadows of the mountains block the horizon. The sun rises, and with it a warm haze. He blinks and lowers his head towards the ground. A small bird lands between his feet. A small bird lands and chirps, there is frost on the flowers and snow on the summits. Frost this morning, for it was a cold, cold night. The small bird hops ahead and tilts his head to look at him. You’re new to the world, new to the world, he chirps. New to the world and the frost is melting already. 

Another bird flies high above, casting an ominous shadow. Careful, careful, the small one chirps, and hops away. The dust settles on tiny yellow flowers and on the naked branches of a low-growing bush. The shadow circles on. On the mountains, touched by the light, the snow is incandescent.

Choosing the cover of "Mr. Summerhaye's Horse"

When I started to think about what the cover of Mr. Summerhaye’s Horse would look like, I decided to use the same process as for As Winter Came and Went: that was to use as an inspiration a painting from the same period and recreate it to fit the story. 

The cover of As Winter Came and Went already featured Summer the horse and was inspired by a painting by Horace Vernet. I copied it, changing the colour of the horse, as well as the background. 

The painting I used for Mr. Summerhaye’s horse was a French one as well, done by Theodore Géricault (1791-1824). One of Géricault’s best known paintings is "Le Radeau de la Méduse" ("The Raft of the Medusa," 1818-1819), but he was also a prolific painter of horses. I really like this part of his work, and the vibrant, expressive paintings he made of those animals, which he obviously loved – though his many riding accidents played a part in his premature death. 

When I was visiting the Château de Chantilly, near Paris, some time ago, and looking at the art collections on display there, my eye was caught by a medium-sized, undated oil-painting by Géricault, depicting a black horse being led by a man out of a stable. Somehow, this painting reminded me of the fictional horse who gallops through the pages of As Winter Came and Went. Probably because of his black coat with white markings, and because the horse in the painting is probably one who had been imported from a foreign land (he has a dished nose like an Arabian horse). 

The château de Chantilly where the painting is displayed.

At the time, I was getting As Winter Came and Went ready for publication, and had already made (and I think revealed) the cover. Gazing at this painting, I found myself regretting that I had not used this one instead of the other. 

Fast forward to 2020: having decided that I was going to self-publish the novella about Summer, I had no hesitation choosing “Cheval sortant de l’écurie” (“Horse going out of the stable”) as the basis for the artwork I would use for the cover of the book. 

I did not copy it faithfully (though I do wish I could paint like Géricault!) and the result is a simplified reinterpretation of the original: I used the portrait rather than landscape format (because it is more convenient for a book cover), I darkened the background (and took out a lot of details), I took out the man and changed the horse’s markings to better fit the description I give of Summer.

Cover reveal

And here it is, the cover of Mr. Summerhaye's Horse!

Watch this space for a post on the story behind it... 

Save the date

I've finally settled on a publication date! However, it is liable to change, depending on the evolution of the global situation. 

I'm soon going to do a cover release, so watch this space!

Review: "The Snow Child" by Eowyn Ivey

"Alaska, the 1920s. Jack and Mabel have staked everything on a fresh start in a remote homestead, but the wilderness is a stark place, and Mabel is haunted by the baby she lost many years before. When a little girl appears mysteriously on their land, each is filled with wonder, but also foreboding - is she what she seems, and can they find room in their hearts for her?" (blurb from my edition of the novel).

This retelling of a Russian folk tale, that of the snow maiden, built by an old, childless couple and mysteriously come to life, is a beautiful and well-crafted novel. I had bought it because I had liked another book by the same author. And I really enjoyed reading this one as well, for several reasons. 

One is the interesting mixture of realism - in the way the mental and physical struggles of the main characters are depicted, or in the description of life in the Alaskan wilderness - and magic - through the character of the snow child. Is it a fairy tale? Is it magical realist story? Or are the fantastical elements simply projections of the character's imagination? Different levels of reading intertwine, leaving the reader with a sense of wonder. The historical setting was also well done, with appropriate details on clothing, buildings, etc., and the intertextuality with the Russian tale and its different retellings cleverly brought about. 

Another reason is the description of Alaska and life in its wilderness. The author is an Alaskan and I believe it shows. The depictions of the landscape, the animals, the plants, the seasons were vivid and beautifully written. They transported me to this land which men were still trying to tame at the time, and made me want to actually see it for myself! 

The point of view in the different chapters shifts from that of Mabel to that of Jack, until the last part of the book where we enter the thoughts of another character. Mabel and Jack are ordinary, relatable people. I thought that Mabel was more complex and well-written than Jack. And in comparison, the third character whose point of view is featured could have been a little bit more developped. But that is only a minor criticism, and one that does not take away from the pleasure of reading this novel. 

I must point out that the is character-driven and that there is not much in terms of plot. Not that I found it to be a hindrance: it is still an oddly gripping read and the character's struggles, as well as the aura of mystery that permeates the story, kept me turning the pages. It is a book that will certainly appeal to lovers of literary fiction and even nature writing.