”There was death at its beginning as there would be death again at its end. Though whether it was some fleeting shadow of this that passed across the girl’s dreams and woke her on that least likely of mornings she would never know. All she knew, when she opened her eyes, was that the world was somehow altered.”
”There was snow. The first fall of winter. And from the laterals of the fence up by the pond she could tell there must be almost a foot of it. With no deflecting wind, it was perfect and driftless”
When Grace and Pilgrim, her horse, end up riding with her friend and her friend’s horse, on this morning of first snow, two will return damaged, and two lives are lost. Grace’s life is physically forever altered, and Pilgrim’s as well, but the physical is easier to see and make plans to manage. The mental and emotional toll is harder to see and treat.
Grace’s mother, Annie, is determined to control and fix the situation. To her mind Grace will never truly return to her former self until and unless Pilgrim is also healed. She can’t rest until she finds a way, which ultimately leads to a discovery that there are men and some women - although few of them - who can soothe these wounded animals.
”For secrets uttered softly into priced and troubled ears, these men were known as Whisperers.”
And so Annie sets out to find, and then convince Tom Booker, a horse whisperer, to help Pilgrim, and by extension help Grace. It takes more than a little convincing, but she is not a woman who is used to, or willing, to taking no for an answer.
I loved the setting of this story, I loved Booker’s view of boiling things down to the essentials of life, and how easy that seemed. I saw the movie many years ago, and loved it, as well, but I no longer remember the details of the movie, only that Robert Redford was the horse whisperer.
”There were such moments, he knew, when the world chose thus to reveal itself not, as it might seem, to mock our plight or our irrelevance but simply to affirm, for us and for all life, the very act of being.”
There is, within this story, a love story, although there are several individual stories which are about love in its many forms. A mother’s fierce, protective love for her child. A father’s tender, devoted love for his child. A man’s love that allows him to let go of those he loves for what he sees as their sake. A girl’s love for her horse that becomes a burden that she carries with her, unable to see anything but that moment, that day, and the damage to this splendid creature. A man’s love so great that he would risk all to protect those he loves.
”And she thought, but didn’t say, what a perilous commodity love was and that the proper calibration of its giving and taking was too precise by far for mere humans.”
Many thanks to my goodreads friend, Mischenko, whose review prompted me to move this one up!