A gorgeous book that is an excellent introduction to Tim Pears, who clearly loves the countryside and horses. A good read.

Well written! I loved this story, in a setting I don't often read about.

Set in 1911-1912 on the lands of Lord Prideaux in Somerset, Tim Pears’s The Horseman follows the daily rounds of Leopold Sercombe, son of Albert, the estate’s respected carter. For most of the book, the author does not refer to Leo by name; he is simply “the boy”, an almost archetypical figure of pastoral life, keenly observant of the ways of nature and intuitive in his communication with non-human creatures. A reluctant twelve-year-old schoolboy, whose hands feel the teacher’s switch more often than any other student, Leo is neither disobedient, nor simple; his interests just lie elsewhere. Peers taunt him for his oddness, for preferring the company of animals, especially horses, over humans. On the days that he does attend school, he daydreams, his attention absorbed by the swallows’ nest-building activities on the other side of the window glass or the sound of an owl scrabbling in the chimney. Afternoons, he inevitably drifts back to his father’s farm, one of six on the estate.

When we first meet Leo, he stands on the sidelines, observing his father, uncle, brothers and cousin as they go about their work in the fields. Increasingly, though, he joins in on the labour. His father, an exacting man, known to whip Leo’s older cousin, Herbert, for ploughing a less-than straight furrow, is surprisingly patient and forbearing with Leo, never berating the boy for his truancy. He recognizes and cultivates his son’s abilities and encourages his uncanny way with horses. Spongelike Leo absorbs his father’s techniques with the animals. No need for questions; he learns by osmosis. Albert would like to see Leo gain a place on the estate’s stud farm or in the master’s stables. His training of the boy causes resentment in others, however. It intensifies the rancour between Albert and his brother, Enoch, the under-carter on the estate, and it angers his nephew, Herbert, who believes he is the rightful recipient of the training.

Pears’s book is arranged in unnumbered chapters named for the months of the year. There may be as many as five chapters in a row about the busiest month—all called “August” and as few as one chapter each for the months of late fall and winter, when there’s less to be done on the farm. Beginning in January, 1911 and continuing into June, 1912, each chapter presents a seasonal activity on the farm or wider estate. In January, 1911, Lord Prideaux’s partridge and pheasant shoot, in which Leo serves as a cartridge boy, is the focus. Subsequent chapters take the reader through manure spreading, turnip sowing, Mrs. Sercombe’s spring cleaning, the birth of a foal, the giddy spring turning out of the horses to pasture, and so on. Leo sees cart wheels being fashioned and horses being shod. He leads horses to and from the mowing, rakes the mown barley fields, and begins to break and train horses. One day while on an errand, he meets the head groom of the estate’s stables. Herb Shattock takes a shine to Leo and sometimes has him assist with the master’s horses.

Throughout the novel, Pears’s writing is unvarnished but fine. North Devon dialect is used, and biblical allusions are frequent. Considerable attention is paid to the workings of such new farm machines as mowers and binders. It is not uncommon for the author to linger over the intricate workings of cogs and rollers. Implements used by the smith, games keeper, and carter are precisely named.

The Horseman sets the reader down in the now-vanished world of rural England of more than a hundred years ago, where the rhythm and pace of working life were slower and dictated by the changing seasons, and where the harshness and physicality of existence were more directly experienced, too. Pears is especially strong at showing the complexity of the relationships between humans and domesticated animals. Unlike most of us, rural people then had daily contact with, even deep attachments to, the animals they would eventually eat. Leo has difficulty with this. It is “a mystery”, his mother says, that cared-for animals should come to such an end, but the Lord decreed it. Still, she adds, Leo is right to ponder this strange and puzzling thing. In a similar vein, Leo’s father confesses he had to make a case to the gaffer (boss) about not being responsible for selling those horses he had watched being born and had personally worked with.

In its attention to the cycle of the seasons and with its rustic characters (not to mention a distressing scene involving a pig that rivals the one in Jude the Obscure), The Horseman recalls the works of Hardy, but it lacks the intricate plotting of the great Victorian novelist. The narrative becomes most lively in the scenes where the master’s motherless, headstrong daughter, Charlotte, appears. Like Leo, “Lottie” was born in the last year of the last century. Spirited, emotional, and an expert horsewoman herself, she is one of the few humans to actually pique his interest. Though only a young girl with a small gun, she performs admirably in the shoot described at the beginning of the book. A little later, she dresses in boy’s clothes and watches Leo from atop a fence as he trains a colt. Lottie and Leo’s attraction to each other is natural, sympathetic, and uncomplicated by talk.

The first two-thirds of Pears’s book move at a very slow pace—with nothing much of consequence happening, but that all changes very suddenly as the novel draws to a close. In the final chapters, quiet, guileless Leo unwittingly provokes unanticipated, dramatic upheaval in the Sercombe family. No doubt the fall-out from this event—the change it brings to Leo’s and his family’s fortunes—is to be explored in the next installment of a planned trilogy.

Some years ago I was captivated by Pears’s debut, In the Place of Fallen Leaves. I later attempted his In a Land of Plenty, but it didn't engage me. A few months ago, though, my hopes were renewed when I learned that with The Horseman Pears would be returning to the pastoral setting of his first novel. As it turns out, this new book still couldn't quite take me back to the place of his first one. I was occasionally frustrated with the slow pace, the lengthy (and sometimes tedious) descriptions of farm work and equipment. However, once I recognized that the book was going to demand an adjustment in reading pace and more mental effort than I’m used to applying to fiction, I came to appreciate the book. It grew on me, and I find myself looking forward to discovering Leo’s fate in Pears’s next book.

I’d recommend The Horseman to patient readers with an interest in rural life and England’s agricultural past. Rating 3.5 (rounded down to 3).

Many thanks to the publisher, Bloomsbury USA, and NetGalley for providing me with a digital text for review.

Despite a quiet, slow start, this beautifully written and developed book gets better and better the further you read it. Set early in the 19th century, pre WWI, Leo, son of the gamekeeper has an affinity for horses, and follows his experiences with them. Such well developed characters will keep me looking for the next book in this projected trilogy.

Even for someone like me who loves quietly told stories of people and their daily, sometimes mundane lives that I feel tell so much about the human spirit, the first half of this book was a bit too quiet. However, beneath the methodical tending of the land, and the animals, mostly the horses, there is the story of a family, their way of life working hard on the estate of Lord Prideaux. It's a hard life, but one that provides food and shelter and a place for one's vocation in this world of divided classes in rural England in 1911. It took a little time to get used to the conversational language, but detailed descriptions of the work in the fields, breaking the horses and the game hunting beautifully depict the place and atmosphere. Eleven year old Leopold is drawn to the horses that his father cares for and has natural instincts when it comes to caring for and training them. It is apparent that this will be Leo's story.

The second half of the novel was more satisfying, as Leopold's friendship with the Charlotte, daughter of Lord Prideaux's grows. A perceived scandal in the end brilliantly sets the stage for what the next two books of this planned trilogy might look like. This won't be for everyone with the slow story telling and as I mentioned, I found it difficult in the beginning. However, now that I've finished it, I'm looking forward to the next book to see where it brings young Leo.

I received an advanced copy of this book from Bloomsbury USA through NetGalley.