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published 1987; paperback 1987
The Grey Horse is not a flashy, whiz-bang fantasy with flying levinbolts, fire-breathing dragons, or mighty-thewed heroes wielding magical artifacts. Nor is it a brooding, dark fantasy replete with impregnable fortresses, political intrigues, or sinister mages. This sweet, funny story is about the romantic travails of an Irish púca, set at the end of the nineteenth century.
Ruairí MacEibhir, a fairy who can take the shape of a man and a horse, has set his heart on Máire NíStandún, a woman who is half-human and half-fairy but who knows nothing of her fairy heritage. To accomplish his aim of getting closer to her, he takes a job as a horse trainer with Anraí and Áine Ó Reachtaire, an elderly couple who own a horse farm near the village of Carraroe. Foolish Ruairí's wooing style, however, is less than effective. In this excerpt, Ruairí in horse form introduces himself to Máire by allowing her to take a ride:
The gallop slowed, turned to canter and then amble. In a sweet grassy thicket between two featureless hills, where there were not even sheep to break the privacy, the grey horse stopped. It stopped and then rose up on its hind legs. Máire gave a small shriek as she began to slip backward. She grabbed tight with hands and with legs, as the shape she held to did astonishing things. Her left leg slipped and her heel hit a stone. The coarse hair in her hands changed to báinín and she was holding the back of the collar of a man's shirt. A man she was embracing in the most scandalous manner. She gave a great gasp and he kissed her.In true romantic style, Ruairí is unfazed by Máire's reaction or her refusal to have anything to do with him (he even tells his colleague, Donncha, that Máire's skill with her fists is an aspect of her beauty -- if she's using it in his behalf), and he courts her single-mindedly. But their plot is just one among many, as Ruairí goes from being an outsider in the parish to being wound into its most intimate affairs, including Ireland's ongoing conflict with England.It was spring. The air was fresh and warm, the grass new on the sides of the hills. Somewhere an ouzel sang its sweet few notes, and the man before her was not bad looking at all.
Máire hauled off and hit him such a blow he fell backward into the fresh cold waters of the rivulet.
What I particularly enjoyed about The Grey Horse (and about all of R.A. MacAvoy's books) is her way of delineating characters with simple, unobtrusive descriptions composed not just of what they look like, but also what they do. With a few words, she is able to sketch in more about a personality than less skilled writers can do in pages. I return to The Grey Horse again and again because I love to spend time in the world that MacAvoy has portrayed and with the characters that she has created.
Review by Sara Lipowitz
Reviewed April 20, 1997
ISBN 0-553-26557-1
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