Julia Merritt’s horse/man blends real-life stories of the horse’s role in history with a solid, frill-free writing style that bolsters the spirit of a gradual decline. The prose, detailed and hyper-focused, celebrates every nuance of horse riding, gaining an almost instructional air as it paints images of horse shows and general upkeep. As a result, the action often feels partly stalled, and emotion tends to hover in the background. Death and violence, though prevalent in many forms, appear more as stepping stones than incentives for the release of feeling. And yet, the first few chapters, which recount Adam’s tumultuous childhood, offer the most condensed form of sentiment.

Ruled by toxic masculinity and stern gender roles, his life is presented as the by-product of a violent reality, in which the value of a horse often outweighed his own. Tension mounts as Adam’s ties to his siblings unfasten, foreshadowing the erosion of both his wealth and fortune. What becomes apparent quite early on is that there is no clear objective for the protagonist to strive toward. Instead, the slow unfurling of his life sees him struggle with displacement, join the cavalry, fight post-war traumas, battle unemployment, and experience the rapid mutation of all that he has known, brought on by the rise of machinery. As such, the novel possesses a quiet air, even during moments of the greatest historical upheaval. Its steady pace accommodates the horse’s changing image, often placing Adam at its center by tailoring a chapter around their joint hike through the wilderness. Seeing as his life orbits the realm of horses, Adam’s deep-rooted affection for the animal sculpts both his likeability and the reader’s overall reception of the story. In turn heartwarming and tragic, their relationship is an everlasting one. And so, external progress causes internal conflict, drawing a distinct line between development and fulfillment.

Adam’s search for autonomy, central to horse/man’s theme, fuses with the monotony of life, depicting the individual’s endless roving. His awareness of the hopeless passage of time is echoed by the malady of existence, which gradually numbs him to its symptoms. Overall, the story mimics a deferential stroll through the ruins of a once-great establishment. In a hushed tone, it passes on a homily about the inevitability of change, and the beauty of the beings it touches.

In horse/man, Julia Merritt immortalizes a time when horses were depended on for livelihood, and often seen as sublime. In doing so, she draws on the ferocity of change, illustrating how it affects  -  and often subverts  -  every aspect of tradition.

~Neil Czeszejko for IndieReader