It takes a great deal of faith to gear a novel this horse-besotted to the general public. Horse love is one of those things either you get or you don't, and for the vast majority of the populace, horse stories tend to read like porn written for 13-year-old girls. The good news, then, is that while a love of all things equine is not a prerequisite for enjoying Jane Smiley's
Horse Heaven, a love of human perversity is. Racing, after all, is at worst a dangerous, asset-devouring folly and at best an anachronism, as one of her horse trainers notes:
The Industry Leaders had made it their personal mission to bring horse racing to the attention of the general public, with the NFL as their model and television as their medium of choice, which was fine with Farley, though his own view was that horse racing out at the track, newspaper reading, still photography, placing bets in person, and writing thank-you notes by hand were all related activities, and football, ESPN, video, on-line betting, and not writing thank-you notes at all were another set of related activities.
A crucial piece of information for Smiley fans is that, among her many novels, Horse Heaven most resembles Moo (and there's even a pig!). In fact, with these two books it appears that this versatile author has finally found a home in which to unpack her impressive gifts: that is, the sprawling, intricately plotted satirical novel. Her target in this case is not academia but horse racing--less commonly satirised but, here at least, just as fruitfully so. Wickedly knowing, dryly comic, the result is as much fun to read as it must have been to write.
None of which means that Horse Heaven is a casual read. For starters, one practically needs a racing form to keep track of its characters, particularly when their stories begin to overlap and converge in increasingly unlikely and pleasing ways. Perhaps it says something about the novel that the easiest figures to follow are the horses themselves: loutish Epic Steam, the "monster" colt; the winsome filly Residual; supernaturally focused Limitless; and trembling little Froney's Sis. And that's not to forget Horse Heaven's single most prepossessing character, Justa Bob--a little swaybacked, a little ewe-necked, but possessed of a fine sense of humour and an abiding disdain for winning races by anything but a nose.
Then there are the humans, including but not limited to socialite Rosalind Maybrick, her husband Dick (who manufactures "giant heavy metal objects" in "distant impoverished nation-like locations"), a Zen trainer, a crooked trainer, a rapper named Ho Ho Ice Chill, an animal psychic and a futurist scholar, as well as attendant jockeys, grooms and hangers-on. (Not to mention poor, ironically named Joy, a few years out of Moo U and still having problems relating.) It's a little frustrating to watch this cast come and go and fight for Smiley's attention; you glimpse them so vividly, and then they disappear for another hundred pages, and it breaks your heart.
But there are certainly worse problems a novel could have than characters to whom you grow overattached. A plot this convoluted would be one, if only it weren't so hard to stop reading. There are elements of magic realism, astounding coincidences, unabashed anthropomorphism. (At one point--while Justa Bob throws himself against his stall in sorrow at leaving his owner's tiny, wordless mother behind--this reviewer cried, "Shameless!" even as she began to tear up.) Improbably, it all works. Horse Heaven is a great, joyous, big-hearted entertainment, a stakes winner by any measure, and for both horse lovers and fans of Smiley's dry, character-based wit, a cause for celebration on par with winning the Triple Crown. --Mary Park
This is in some ways a daunting novel. Readers may be traumatized by its length, by the two-page cast of characters (both human and equine), by the parentage details of the new-born colts and fillies given in the Prologue, and even by the hype surrounding Faber & Faber's acquisition of the title from this Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist. It is worth overcoming initial trepidation, though I suspect that for some readers the details about horse-racing, though educative, may prove tedious. The vast array of characters includes owners, trainers, jockeys, hangers-on, bettors, youthful enthusiasts and, of course, horses. The story features Al, a recovering alcoholic and horse-owning tycoon, and his wife Rosalind, whose purpose in life is to spend money as fast as Al can make it, and intersects with those of Dick Winterson, a trainer with an agoraphobic wife, and of Farley, another trainer, who tries to apply Zen-like principles to his work. Then there is the beautiful Tiffany, whom we first encounter in a launderette, upset because her purse has been stolen. Her life changes dramatically when she is whisked away from a Wal-Mart checkout to join the entourage of Ho Ho Ice Chill, a rap singer who buys her a racehorse as a tax write-off. The bettors are represented by the curious father-son duo of Leo and Jesse, whose pre-betting superstitions include the wearing of special (preferably unwashed) socks and a taboo on seeing nuns. These are but a few of the strands in this extraordinary panoply of a book, whose timespan covers November 1997 to November 1999. Review by VICTORIA GRIFFIN Editor's note: Victoria Griffin is author of The Mistress (Kirkus UK)