With no sequel planned, this just might be your only chance to hang out with man-eating horses for a while. The Scorpio Races is a one-off book though, so remember to pace yourself while reading. Stiefvater knows all about supernatural weirdness, having crafted the uber-popular Wolves of Mercy Falls trilogy, including Shiver. It's a unique world drawn from Celtic lore, and the bizarre, dangerous water horses are just as memorable as the humans who try to train them. The Scorpio Races is about two nineteen-year-olds who find themselves training for the race of their lives: the titular Scorpio Races, in which vicious water horses called the capaill uisce run at break neck speeds along the beach while their riders try not to break their own necks. All that's missing are people wearing wacky hats and placing bets. Printz Honor for best book written for teens. It's the Kentucky Derby-meets- Hunger Gamesof young adult novels, and it received tons of glowing reviews and a Michael L. Maggie Stiefvater saw this heinous literary oversight and filled it full of scary carnivorous horses with her 2011 novel The Scorpio Races.
Hey, Cujo did it for dogs-horse lit has to compete. But do you know what those works are missing? Horses that eat people. There's a long line of books about people and their equine companions- Black Beauty, Misty of Chincoteague, War Horse-and there are so many movies about horses too- Secretariat, Seabiscuit, that War Horse again-that we might as well put dogs out to pasture.Īll of these books and movies put the beauty, power, and intelligence of horses on display and make us think they're just as human as we are. The ocean will not shift me and the cold will not take me.Dogs might be called man's best friend, but they're in close competition with horses. The sand shifts and sucks out from under my feet in the tide. I smell seaweed and fish and the dusky scent of the nesting birds onshore.
The raucous cries of the terns and the guillemots in the rocks of the shore, the piercing, hoarse questions of the gulls above me. I listen to the sound of water hitting water. I stretch my arms out to either side of me and close my eyes. The water is so cold that my feet go numb almost at once. It wasn’t the ocean that killed my father, in the end. The surrender to the possibilities beneath the surface. But that’s part of this, the not knowing. The water is still high and brown and murky with the memory of the storm, so if there’s something below it, I won’t know it. “As the sun shines low and red across the water, I wade into the ocean.
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