So I'm a big opponent of all things heteronormative, and so it was nice to finally find some literature that featured horses partaking in a different lifestyle (not that it's a choice, mind you, I just liked that they admitted some lady horses probably liked other lady horses). Except that this book was not at all about homosexual mares.
Rather, it was about these great busty lesbians who seemed to have very little in the way of steady work. Their days consist mostly of sleeping, some horseback riding (but only little walks of twenty minutes through the garden, a loop around the veranda, and then back again), and then stories by a campfire at night (a campfire at a country estate? With no butlers or Indians? What?!?). Inexplicably the ladies' steeds are present at these storytelling sessions as friends and partners, though lacking even the rudimentary body language reading capabilities of Clever Hans it escapes me how they ever thought they might seduce the ladies. Short answer: they don't.
The series of campfire stories are utterly predictable, ranging from the oppressive, homophobic patriarchy to the repressive, bigoted anti-matriarchal forces. Naturally I loved them, but come on, ladies! Alisa and Monica, I know you can do better. Maybe just Monica, actually. Alisa, this was a good effort, but it remains your only book and I worry you may have hit a protracted case of writer's block. Take a cue from Monica, who had some great sequels like "Lois Lenz, Lesbian Secretary," and "Bobby Blanchard, Lesbian Gym Teacher," and who could forget "Program Evaluation Procedure for Leisure Service Agencies?" A distinct lack of equine-related subplots, but then again, so was this, and I presume that it's a mistake you'll soon rectify in "Emily Earheardt, Lesbian Horse."
My main complaint though is that try as one might, it's really hard to suspend disbelief and pretend for even a moment that the horses might be lesbians (and believe me, I tried) when you let it slip that they're actually guy horses. Disgusting.