“If you want to be a writer, you must read and read and read, and write and write and write.”
I don’t know why more of a fuss hasn’t been made about Where White Horses Gallop, a new novel by Beatrice MacNeil*. It’s a heartbreaking and lyrical gem of a story about the loss of three young men from a remote community in Cape Breton. I gobbled it up in a couple of afternoons, sitting by the fire wrapped in a blanket and pretending the Kleenex box nearby was meant to catch the drip brought on by a Christmas cold (yeah, right).
A few novels have brought me to tears: The Diviners, The Time Traveller’s Wife, The Assassin’s Song, and just about anything ever written by Alistair MacLeod. Now I can add Where White Horses Gallop to the list. It is a rich and timely novel, which I recommend without hesitation. I also issue a hanky alert to go along with the book.
Now I must get back to my own writing, having enjoyed a rich couple of weeks of family, books, and too many sugar plums. Oh my, did I eat over the holiday! It’ll take me longer than usual to waddle back up the stairs to the Writer’s Garret, but I’m fuelled and ready to go.