It would be nice if publishers did their jobs these days. There were so many factual errors in this fiction book, I had to consider it a romantic fantasy rather than the chick lit novel it claims to be. Set in England, with a main character from New York City, the author exhibited complete ignorance of British (or for that matter, American) equine sports culture, a situation one might have thought British publishers would catch. They didn't. Early on, at a horse show, Zitwer writes about the crowd screaming and cheering. They don't. Not in England, not in the United States. If spectators cheered and yelled, horses would be trashing young riders left, right and center, especially in the over-fences classes. (Class, by the way, is the proper term for a single competition in hunt seat--which is what the English ride and what Americans riding in English style ride--and may refer to riding on the flat or over fences. In dressage, a single competition is called a test.)
Later in the book, the love interest of the New Yorker takes her riding. Imagine him not telling her even the basics of sitting a horse; imagine him causing his guest's horse to canter. Imagine that guest claiming to have held onto the saddle (an almost impossible task in an English saddle as there is no horn, but just a pommel too close to the crotch and too flat to the horse to make an effective hold) and pinched with her knees to stay on...an action that is all but guaranteed to make the rider pop off. Especially a non-rider with virtually no strength, in rider terms, in her legs. I admit that, as a rider and riding instructor, all that aggravated me. But worse, it makes it seem as if riding is as easy as it looks in westerns. It is not...except maybe in westerns, in which case the huge, deep saddle with a horn is helpful to non-riders. In short, I regard the misinformation in this book to be dangerous. And I regard the British publishers' failure to rectify it to be publishing malfeasance.
Zitwer's main character also takes her dog to Britain. Oh, Zitwer writes, it's just fine. So easy. Not to worry. It's normal shots will get it in, no problem. NOT. NOT. NOT. To bring a dog from the US to Britain takes 6 months and a few days and costs a small fortune. One must chip the dog, then vaccinate it for rabies, then have a blood titre which, if it is sufficient, will allow one to bring the dog into the UK...after 181 days from the date of the rabies shot. And after it has two additional shots within 48 hours of its landing in the UK. Moving a dog, or a cat, to the UK is time-consuming and costly. The USDA must be involved and its UK counterpart, DEFRA, must be involved. Each vet who signs off must be certified to sign off, and every single number on every single document must be perfectly legible and must match. Nor can dogs just show up at the passenger gate in the US to be taken to the hold by staff; they must be brought to cargo where a humongous stack of documents will be completed, fees will be paid, and the owner will hope for the best. And all this occurs many hours before the flight. It is nerve-wracking in the extreme--start to finish--and no one would willingly do it to themselves or their dog without a darn good reason, such as a permanent relocation. A visit of a month? Not hardly.
Aside from what I regard as rookie errors by both the publisher and the author, how was the book? It was an overgrown 1980s romance, no more and no less. That it took five years to write, so says the author, begs belief as much as do her scenes about horses and dogs. Not to mention her scenes about menstruation. How many girls, either side of the Atlantic, fail to begin before age 15, and then have the whole deal be a big surprise? Even in my generation, it would be the very odd girl who didn't begin by 13 or so; any later, and the parents would be taking the girl off to the doctor for hormone tests.
The author claims to be an international literary agent. I guess most jobs can be done totally by internet these days (although she MIGHT have asked an actual rider about the horse thing, but one can find out everything one needs to do about shipping pets to the UK on the internet); I figure her claim to being an international agent is based on a package tour to Cancun.
The book was annoyingly flawed, the claims about it and its author were annoyingly overblown, the story was annoyingly slight, and the characters were woodenly one-dimensional. Unfortunately, I can't give it half a star, so one will have to serve.