The "Re-reads" Group

                                                                    Milton C. Toby photograph

By Milton C. Toby

I tend to lump fiction into four very general categories:

• "Re-reads," the books that I return to from time to time;

• "One-timers," the books from favorite authors, books that I wait for, devour, and then set aside;

• "Airport" books, those that I pick up at airport bookstores because I need something to read during a layover and usually leave in a hotel room;

• And, finally, the "short-stops," those books that I start with great expectation, but give up on because they cannot hold my interest beyond the first few chapters.

Heading the list of my "re-read" authors is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Every two or three years I start with A Study in Scarlet (the first appearance of Sherlock Holmes, published in 1887) and work my way through the novels and short stories to The Adventure of Shoscombe Place (the last story, published in 1927). For readers unfamiliar with the Holmes canon, horses turn up from time to time, notably in Silver Blaze, in which Holmes and Watson thwart a scheme to kidnap a prominent Thoroughbred and use him as a ringer in an important race.

 

Author Robert Ludlum

Running a close second to Arthur Conan Doyle is the late Robert Ludlum, whose thrillers have sold millions of copies. Ludlum passed away a few years ago, but his writing franchise is going strong, operating under the byline "Robert Ludlum's  (insert book title here)." I don't return to the franchise books often, but I take one of the Ludlum originals off the shelf whenever I need a dose of international intrigue and conspiracy theories.

A few days ago, by accident, I came across a couple of radio interviews Ludlum did in the mid-1980s with Don Swain. Swain hosted "Book Beat" on CBS Radio for over a decade and his program attracted many of the best writers around in those days.

Ludlum's first book, written after he turned 40, was The Scarlatti Inheritance, an immediate bestseller that made him an international sensation. That first book was easy, Ludlum told Swain, but then things changed: "It's the hardest thing in the world to write the second book. The first one was easy. We've all got a story to tell. But writing the second book, that's the difference between being a professional and not being a professional."

Ludlum had this to say about the necessary elements of good fiction:

• Theme. He was not talking about a theme for a writer's book in progress, but instead an overarching theme for a writer's work. For Ludlum, that theme was a general distrust of international financiers and a love of conspiracy theories.
• Characters. Ludlum typically wrote stand-alone thrillers, with a new cast of characters each time. He did not like the idea of a series, because of the risk that an author might get comfortable with a character and not put much effort into development. He acknowledged, though, that his best known character, Jason Bourne, appeared in a three-book series.
• Plot. Ludlum's books have extremely complex plots. For a good book, he said, the path from Point A to Point B is never a straight line.
• Pace. Ludlum's early work was in theater, as an actor and not as a writer. He recognized the importance of pacing as a companion to plot, however. You've got to structure the first act so people will stay for the second act, he explained, and the second act so people will stay until the end.    

Bill Straus photograph

Swain's interviews with Ludlum, and a host of other prominent writers, are archived here.

On a personal note, this will be my last post at Horse Crossings. Best of luck to my colleagues in their writing endeavors. It's been fun!

.

My Writing Group

                                                                    Milton C. Toby photograph

By Milton C. Toby

The jury is still out on the value of writing  groups: do they help an author turn out polished work ready for submission to a publisher, or do they hinder the process? The answer is not as simple as you might think. For insight about potential pitfalls associated with writing groups, check out Jane Friedman's blog on the topic.

Working with a group of like-minded writers who can evaluate a manuscript with fresh eyes is an opportunity for constructive criticism, inspiration, and support for both novice and veteran authors. Writing is a solitary pursuit after all, and for many of us the camaraderie of a critique group may be the most important aspect of getting together with others to share what we're writing.

For other writers, myself included, a traditional writing group is just not a good fit. Writing, for me, is a generally lonely process that involves varying degrees of the following, none of which are conducive to group activity:

• substantial research and a lot concurrent thinking,
• wandering around the house or neighborhood looking lost,
• jotting down random thoughts on scraps of paper and Post-It notes,
• making notes on white boards, large sheets of newsprint, and the bathroom mirror,
• discussing things with my wife, an equine veterinarian who happens to be an excellent editor,
• and chatting with my own very special writing group, pictured below.

Milt's writing group

Plumpkin taking a break from
work in his reading room

Sherlock (also known as "New Cat") and
Burdock deliberating about the story arc in
a book proposal

Echo handles security,
 toy maintenance,
and idea development

One reason for my lack of interest in traditional writing groups might be the proximity of the Carnegie Center for Literacy and Learning. Located in Lexington, Kentucky, a few miles from my home, the Carnegie Center offers a rich menu of classes and support for writers of fiction and non-fiction, at every age and skill level. The Carnegie Center also has a stable of mentors who are available to work with authors on a one-to-one basis. The classes and mentoring sessions are offered for modest fees.

The Carnegie Center also sponsors the Kentucky Writers Hall of Fame, hosts a "Books in Progress" conference each spring, recently launched a nine-month "Writers Academy," and offers a number of reading and signing opportunities for local authors.

I'm a long-time supporter of the Carnegie Center, both as a student and as an instructor. I teach there on a regular basis on subjects related to business and legal issues associated with writing. My next class, on "Book Contracts," is scheduled for March 5. For more information about the Carnegie Center, click here.

Getting It Right

                                                                    Milton C. Toby photograph

By Milton C. Toby

Writing nonfiction is, for me at any rate, a very research-intensive pursuit. I learned the ropes from Kent Hollingsworth and Ed Bowen, my editors during a dozen years at Blood-Horse magazine, and they both were sticklers for accuracy in reporting. I took their lessons to heart, to the point that I typically spend at least as much time researching a topic as I do writing about it. Sometimes the ratio of research-to-writing is skewed heavily toward fact-finding.

When the research goes well, the writing usually moves along at a relatively smooth and comfortable pace. When the writing bogs down, on the other hand, the reason often is that I don't have enough information. This is when I stare blankly at my computer screen and envy my fiction author friends who have the luxury of making something up to write themselves out of a corner.

After Dancer's Image was disqualified, owner Peter Fuller put
 up a bill board in a pasture at his New Hampshire farm
proclaiming that his horse remained a Derby winner.
The billboard is still there. Photo by Roberta Dwyer,
copyright 2011, all rights reserved.

If it sounds as if I'm knocking the research skills of fiction authors, I'm not. Many fiction genres require extensive research and my hat is off to authors who can weave a batch of sterile facts into a compelling story. I try to do the same thing with my nonfiction, to make the usually difficult leap from reporting to storytelling. Sometimes it works, sometimes not so much. The balance between success and failure often turns on research help from an unexpected source.

The story of Dancer's Image and his controversial disqualification for a drug positive in the 1968 Kentucky Derby focused on the proceedings at a lengthy hearing before the state racing commission. Without the transcript of the hearing--some 400-plus pages--there were serious gaps in the story and how I could tell it. The problem was that, more than 40 years after the fact, none of the usual sources had a complete copy of the transcript-- not the attorneys involved, not the appellate court, not the state racing commission, not the court reporters.

Working at the Keeneland Library with a deadline looming for my book about Dancer's Image, I found myself trying to write around the gaps in what I knew about happened at the racing commission hearing. The Keeneland Library is a wonderful treasure trove of information about Thoroughbred racing. Director Becky Ryder and Librarian Cathy Schenck are among the most knowledgeable and helpful people on the planet. A few months ago, Cathy was named winner of the prestigious National Turf Writers and Broadcasters 2015 Joe Palmer Award for meritorious service to racing. Way to go, Cathy!

Winner of the Dr. Tony Ryan Award for
the best book about Thoroughbred racing and an
American Horse Publications Editorial Award
for the best equine book of the year.

Another of the librarians, Phyllis Rogers, asked what I was working on. I explained about the Dancer's Image book project. She nodded, said there was "something you probably need to see," and vanished into the cavernous back part of the building reserved for storage. She returned a few minutes later with a battered cardboard file box covered in dust. It was apparent that no one had opened the box for years, probably for decades.

Inside was the complete transcript of the hearing. I was flabbergasted. I had given up on ever seeing the entire transcript and for some reason it never occurred to me to look in the most logical place of all, a library devoted to preserving the history of Thoroughbred racing.

Conventional wisdom holds that writing is a solitary activity, and that's true. Writing this, I'm sitting at my computer in the company of Plumpkin and Sherlock, our two rescue cats. (I count this as a solitary activity due to the almost complete disdain shown my work by the felines.) Effective research, on the other hand, takes a village. For me, The Keeneland Library and the staff are essential parts of my village.

Banished Words

                                                                    Milton C. Toby photo

By Milton C. Toby

How often have you read or heard snippets of dialogue like this one:

"So, Mrs. Rottingham, what does this new information tell us about the missing horse?" the detective said.

What purpose, exactly, does the introductory "so" serve?

No purpose at all, apparently, which is why it topped Lake Superior State University's 41st annual "List of Words Banished from the Queen's English for Misuse, Overuse, and General Uselessness." The list first was compiled by the late W. T. Rabe, former public relations director at LSSU, who began collecting words he and his colleagues hated at a New Year's Eve party in the mid-1970s. Publication of the inaugural list generated hundreds of letters to LSSU, and the banished words selection soon was opened to suggestions from the public.

One of the nominations for banishing an introductory "so" from our speech came from Thomas H, Weiss, from Michigan:

"Frequently used to begin a sentence, particularly in response to a question, this tiresome and grammatically incorrect replacement for "Like," or "Um," is even more irksome . . . It hurts my ears every time I hear it!"

Scott Shackleton from Canada noted that "the word serves no purpose in the sentence and to me is like fingernails on a chalkboard."


Other words or phrases to make the 2016 list of banished words (with selected comments) include:

• Conversation--We are invited to "join the conversation if we want to give an opinion. This expression is overused and annoying."
• Problematic--A personal favorite of mine, "problematic" was described as a "corporate-academic weasel word."
• Stakeholder--"A word that has expanded from describing someone who may actually have a stake in a situation or problem, now being overused in business to describe customer and others," according to LSSU. "Dr. Van Helsings should be the only stake holder," according to Jeff Baenen, of Minneapolis, Michigan.
• Price Point--"An example of using two words when one will do."
• Secret Sauce--I've never encountered this one, but it apparently is common in business communications touting the success of something or other.
• Break the Internet--"An annoying bit of hyperbole about the latest saucy picture or controversy that already is becoming trite."
• Walk It Back--Used to describe a politician who makes a statement and then has to either retract it or try and explain that what he said isn't what he really meant.
• Presser--Ridiculous shorthand for a press release or press conference.
• Manspreading--Used to explain the lack of seats on pubic transportation in larger cities as males take up more than their fair share of room.
• Vape--A verb describing the use of e-cigarettes instead if tobacco products. Canadian David Ervin hopes the word "goes up in smoke."
• Giving Me Life--A phrase that "refers to anything that may excite a person, or something that causes one to laugh."
• Physicality--Common in sports broadcasting and writing, although no one knows exactly what it means.  

So, why should the LSSU list and others like it matter for writers?

For me, the list means a New Year's resolution to be more aware of trendy words when I write. Sometimes they work, sometimes not, but there always is a danger of confusing readers with a word that was popular yesterday, but not today. There also is a very real danger associated with trying to sound hip when you are anything but, as I've learned to my chagrin from time to time.

Life Imitating Art . . . Or Not

                                                                     Milton C. Toby photograph

By Milton C. Toby

A few months after European Horse of the Year Shergar was taken from the Aga Khan's Ballymany Stud near the Curragh Race Course in Ireland, an enterprising reporter from the Irish Press asked author Dick Francis about the theft. Francis was in Dublin promoting his 22nd novel, The Danger, which featured a private business that specialized in rescuing the victims of kidnappings. The protagonist of The Danger once worked for Lloyd's of London, the insurance company that held much of the insurance on Shergar, so there was a connection between the real and the fictional--tenuous but sufficient--to pique the newspaper's interest.

The reporter wondered if Francis, whose horse racing novels were best sellers around the world, had any insights about the theft of Shergar, a real-life mystery that would become the sport's most famous cold case.

"This book [The Danger] is about people, rather than horses, being kidnapped," Francis explained. "One of my other books, Blood Sport written in the '60s, was about a classic winner from England who is taken to America and kidnapped over there. I have been accused more than once of giving crooks ideas. I certainly hope I didn't give them the idea for what they have done with Shergar."

It was a brief interview that morphed into a promotional exercise for Francis's then-current book, and also for an older one. No real news there; not a surprise.

I've been a fan of Dick Francis for years. The reminder of a long-forgotten book that might have some bearing on my own research into the theft of Shergar encouraged me to track down and reread Blood Sport. Written in 1967, 16 years before the theft of Shergar, Blood Sport still is a good read--and an interesting lesson in the problem of reliable horse identification in the pre-DNA era.

There is no real question about whether Gene Hawkins will find the stolen stallion, Chrysalis. Hawkins is a Dick Francis hero, after all, and they tend to be very good at what they do. The book turns on the mechanics of the search and how Hawkins will prove that the horse he recovers, a nondescript bay with no distinctive markings, actually is Chrysalis. Hawkins makes his preliminary identification based on the horse's odd appetite for sardines but in the end he must rely on an in-person examination by the stallion's groom ("lad" for Anglophiles), who is flown to the States from England and driven across country to verify the horse's identity.

The Cross of St. Bridget, a patron saint of Ireland, watches over horses and riders at the Curragh Race Course.
A few hundred yards to the north of the Curragh, Shergar was taken from Ballymany Stud.
Copyright 2015 Milton C. Toby

"Sure I'd know him," Sam Kitchens tells Hawkins. "Maybe I couldn't pick him out of a herd, now, but I'd know him close to. The way his hide grows, and little nicks in his skin. I wouldn't have forgotten those." Kitchens makes the identification after Hawkins spirits the stallion away from the ranch where the horse thieves were holding him. Francis doesn't deal with what must be a problem, though, convincing stud book officials in two countries that the horse really is Chrysalis.

Unlike Chrysalis, Shergar never was recovered. The best evidence suggests that the horse was killed shortly after he was taken from Ballymany and the question of a positive identification never became an issue. In any case, just about anyone in Ireland would have recognized Shergar on sight and there was DNA analysis if needed. Bits of bone purported to be the remains of the horse still turn up at the Irish Equine Centre from time to time. So far, though, researchers there have been able to dismiss the claims without utilizing a DNA reference sample kept under lock and key.

Conventional wisdom points to members of the Irish Republican Army as masterminds for the theft of Shergar. No individual or organization has claimed responsibility, however, and the Irish police have not charged anyone. The disappearance of Shergar is a mystery worthy of Dick Francis.





 

 

Books We Read, Books We Use

                                                                     Milton C. Toby photograph

By Milton C. Toby

Writers write. It's what we do.

Writers also tend to read, a lot.

One of the secrets to writing well is recognizing good writing by others. I read mostly nonfiction these days because that's what I write. I finished David McCullough's The Wright Brothers a few days ago and was enthralled by his story of Wilbur and Orville and the early years of aviation. McCullough doesn't write about horses but he has won two Pulitzer Prizes and a National Book Award and his work is a good model for any nonfiction author.

I'm now working my way through Ed Moloney's A Secret History of the IRA, trying to sort out the politics of the the "Troubles" in Northern Ireland as part of my book proposal research into the theft of the Thoroughbred stallion Shergar. The "Shergar shelf" in my office keeps growing, occupied with the few books already written about the horse and hundreds of clippings from old newspapers and magazines.

I don't read much current fiction unless Daniel Silva or John Sandford has a new book. More often than not when I need a dose of fiction, though, I'll pick up an Arthur Conan Doyle volume and reread a Sherlock Holmes story or two.

Our house is littered with books--real books, not even counting the ebooks on my Kindle. They are arranged neatly on shelves or in precarious stacks in my office, in the bedroom, in the spare bedroom, in the living room, in the dining room, in the kitchen. And then there are the boxes of books gathering dust in the attic and in the garage. Most of them have been read once, and probably won't be picked up again except when dusting the shelves or rearranging the stacks.

A few books, on the other hand, have migrated through frequent use from the shelves and stacks to a place within easy arm's reach in my office. These are the reference books that I use over and over again, often on a daily basis. In no particular order, here are my top-10 go-to books when I have a question about definitions, word origins, or the mechanics of writing:

1. The Shorter Oxford English Dictionary in two massive volumes
2. The Elements of Style by Strunk and White (three editions)
3. The Chicago Manual of Style
4. The Associated Press Stylebook
5. The Oxford Dictionary of Phrase and Fable
6. Bryson's Dictionary of Troublesome Words
7. The Writer's Legal Companion
8. The Oxford Desk Dictionary and Thesaurus
9. The Copyright Permission and Libel Handbook
10. Bartlett's Familiar Quotations


None of these are "writing books" as such. They don't deal with plot, or characters, or dialogue, or the other creative elements we usually associate with good writing. They are essential reading, though, if you need help putting together a query, or a proposal, or a manuscript that is both technically correct and likely to satisfy a publisher's guidelines.

An added--and somewhat unexpected--benefit: A few of the books go beyond dry reference and are fun to read. The Elements of Style, The Oxford Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, and Bryson's Dictionary of Troublesome Words, for example, all manage to be both informative and entertaining.

Besides, where besides Phrase and Fable are you going to find the origins of the "trilby hat," the headgear of choice for James "Jazzer" Murphy, the detective in charge of the Shergar investigation?

What reference books do you use on a regular basis?

Lessons Learned from Jack the Ripper

                                                                     Milton C. Toby photograph

 by Milton C. Toby

A few years ago, during a session with a prominent New York literary agent at a mystery writers' convention, I pitched an idea for a nonfiction book about the theft of the Thoroughbred stallion Shergar from a stud farm in Ireland. The incident drew international headlines at the time and stories still show up in the press occasionally, mostly when anniversaries of the theft roll around. The case never has been solved, at least not officially. For my money, the theft of Shergar remains Thoroughbred racing's most famous cold case, one deserving of a new look.

The agent's response was underwhelming.

"It might be an interesting magazine article," he said. "But it's not a book unless you find the horse."

That's not likely to happen. Shergar was a 5-year-old when he was stolen in 1983 and odds are that he was killed within days of the theft. In any event, the horse certainly is dead and buried now, and no one is talking. Claims that a bullet-riddled skull (turned out to be the skull of a cow) or other bits of bone dug up somewhere or other might be the long-lost remains of Shergar surface every now and then. So far, though, no luck.

I took the agent's advice, shifted my interest in Shergar to a back burner where it had been simmering for years, and moved on to an award-winning, three-book series about racing for The History Press. Working with The History Press was an excellent idea; taking the agent's advice about Shergar was not.

Now fast forward to Jack the Ripper.

I finished a lengthy book proposal in late 2014, investigating how performance enhancing drugs became embedded in racing's culture during the first half of the 20th Century, and found an agent to shop it around. So far, we haven't been able to convince publishers that the idea is not a niche book and that it has appeal beyond the typical small audience the industry expects for horse books. We'll see how that goes.

Recognizing Newmarket's centuries-old equine heritage
Copyright 2015 Milton C. Toby

Waiting for reluctant publishers to come to their senses, and with time on my hands due to some health issues, I revisited Shergar. I arranged a few interviews, enough to justify an initial fact-finding trip to Shergar's training yard in Newmarket, in London, and in County Kildare, Ireland. During our stay in London, on a rainy Monday evening, my wife and I joined about a dozen other people on a Jack the Ripper walk through Whitechapel. These walks visit several of the murder sites and are a significant cottage industry in London.

Our guide that night, Philip Hutchinson, is an author and a respected "Ripperologist" who investigates the mystery of Jack the Ripper. Although there are a batch of theories about the identity of the Ripper--some plausible, some not so much--no one knows for certain who went on a killing spree in 1888. Interest in Jack the Ripper remains high, nevertheless, and new books about the murders are published on a regular basis.

Hutchinson said that it wasn't realistic to expect a major breakthrough more than 125 years after the fact and explained that he hoped simply to uncover bits of information that might add a new dimension to the story of Jack the Ripper. Hutchinson and his fellow investigators either never received, or never paid any attention to, advice like that I received from the agent: "it's not a book" unless you solve the mystery.

Retracing the steps of Jack the Ripper on that rainy night in London brought to mind my original interest in Shergar from my days at Blood-Horse magazine and the goals for the trip and for my own investigative efforts. Absent a confession from someone directly involved in the theft, we probably never will know Shergar's fate. Despite that lack of certainty, I believe that there is a compelling story, one that has not been told, beyond the conventional wisdom that "the Irish Republic Army did it and they botched the job."

It's a story that I want to tell.

The agent's advice cost me some valuable ground when it comes to Shergar. Jack the Ripper reminded me that even the most well-intended advice sometimes should be ignored.

The dilemma for all of us, then, is how to sort out advice from an agent, a publisher, or a colleague, or suggestions about your work from a writing group. Any thoughts?





  

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"She Wasn't a Horse . . . She Was a Marine!"

                                                                    Milton C. Toby photograph

by Milton C. Toby

Sgt. Reckless?

The name conjures up fond memories of the comic books I read as a kid, of a larger-than-life superhero battling villains shoulder-to-shoulder with characters like Captain America, Iron Man, and the other Avengers. But when it comes to Sgt. Reckless, truth actually is stranger than comic book fiction.

The conflict in Korea had raged for more than two years when Marine Lt. Eric Pedersen traveled to Seoul looking for a horse.  He served with the Anti-Tank and Recoilless Rifle Platoon and he hoped to find a sturdy animal to transport the weapon's bulky and heavy 75-millimeter artillery shells. Lt. Pedersen eventually paid $250 to a family in Seoul for "Flame." Saying that Flame exceeded expectations would be a gross understatement!

Renamed "Reckless" after the platoon's nickname for the recoilless rifle, the little mare quickly became a valued member of the unit, hauling load after load of shells, rolls of communication wire, supplies, and, when necessary, a wounded Marine. Her finest hour came in March 1953, during the battle for Outpost Vegas. Reckless made trip after perilous trip to the front during the firefight, carrying nearly 200 pounds of artillery shells each time up and down steep and treacherous terrain.

Wounded twice by shrapnel during the battle--she earned two Purple Hearts--Reckless soldiered on. The battle "broke the back of the enemy," one of the Marines from Outpost Vegas later recalled. He added that Reckless was the hero of the day. In addition to the Purple Hearts, her military awards included the Marine Corps Good Conduct Medal, the Presidential Unit Citation with Star, the Navy Unit Citation, the National Defense Service Medal, and a batch of other commendations. She wore them all, along with her Staff Sergeant chevrons, on her blanket.

Remembering Sgt. Reckless at the
National Museum of the Marine Corps

If you haven't heard of Sgt. Reckless, no worries. The little mare was a media superstar for a time after the Korean War, achieving popularity equal to that accorded other animal stars like Lassie and Rin Tin Tin. Eventually, though, her story, like those of many deserving war heroes, faded into obscurity. If you have heard of Sgt. Reckless, on the other hand, it is almost certainly a result of the efforts of her biggest fan and supporter, Robin Hutton.

For the last decade, Robin has pushed relentlessly for recognition of Sgt. Reckless as a war hero. She was the driving force behind a spectacular memorial to Sgt. Reckless at the National Museum of the Marine Corps in Triangle, Virginia, within shouting distance of the Marine base at Quantico. A fund-raising effort now is underway to erect a similar statute at Camp Pendleton, the Southern California Marine base where Reckless spent her post-war years and produced three foals. For more information, click here for more information.

Robin also is the author of  Sgt. Reckless: America's War Horse, published in 2014 by Regnery History. The book won a well-deserved American Horse Publications editorial award as the best equine book of the year and is a great read about a remarkable horse. Commenting on the award winner, the judge called Sgt. Reckless "an amazingly detailed, fascinating, and documented saga of a war horse who served the Marines during the Korean War--a spunky, intelligent little horse that ate bread, uncooked oatmeal, Hershey bars, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, carrots and apples, loved beer, disliked dogs, slept in a Marine's tent on cold nights, and was devoted to the soldiers she served."

It's a story well worth telling, and a book well worth reading. A paperback edition of Sgt. Reckless is due in August.

Sefton's Story, or Why I Love Research

                                                                     Milton C. Toby photograph

by Milton C Toby

Writing often is a solitary chore, at least for me, especially with a deadline looming. Researching a book or magazine article, on the other hand, usually is an enjoyable exercise in fettering out minutia and finding links between seemingly unrelated  facts. But more about that later.

July 20 fell on a Tuesday in 1982.

That morning, as they did every morning at the same time, members of the Household Cavalry--Queen Elizabeth II's official bodyguards--were making their way from the regiment's barracks in Knightsbridge to the Horse Guards Parade. The horses and riders were en route to the popular Changing of the Guard ceremony. At 10:40 am, as the procession passed through Hyde Park, a massive nail bomb hidden in the trunk of a Morris Marina parked on a side street exploded.

Thirty pounds of nails were packed around 25 pounds of explosive and the damage wrought by the bomb was enormous. Four members of the Blues & Royals were killed by the blast, and a number of soldiers and civilians were injured. In addition to the human casualties, seven of the regiment's horses were killed.

Sefton, an Irish-bred draft cross which had served with the regiment for several years, suffered severe injuries, including a severed jugular vein and 34 other shrapnel wounds. Many of Sefton's wounds were life-threatening; after 90 minutes of emergency treatment and eight hours of surgery by a team of cavalry and civilian veterinarians the horse's chances of survival were estimated at 50-50. Major Noel Carding, Veterinary Officer of the Household Calvary, directed the emergency first aid for Sefton and the other injured horses. He was said to be the first British military veterinarian in more than a half-century to treat cavalry horses suffering with wartime injuries.

Sefton survived the bombing and eventually returned to duty with the regiment as a national hero. Donations in Sefton's name exceeded 600,000 pounds and were used to construct a surgical wing at the Royal Veterinary College. He was retired from military service in 1984 and spent the rest of his years at the Home of Rest for Horses. His rider, Michael Pedersen, also survived the bombing but ever after was plagued with post-traumatic stress disorder. He committed suicide in 2012 after killing his two children.

The Irish Republican Army claimed responsibility for the Hyde Park bombing, and for another bombing later in the day at Regent's Park that killed seven members of a military band from the Royal Green Jackets regiment. The attacks were low points in Irish-British relations during the "Troubles." Jonathan Irwin, a prominent Irish bloodstock agent and head of the Goffs Thoroughbred sales organization, was disgusted by the bombings.

"Common ground between Ireland
and England"
Copyright 2009 Milton C. Toby

"I thought it important that England should realize that many Irish people felt real horror at the incident," Irwin wrote in his autobiography, "Jack & Jill: The Story of Jonathan Irwin." He organized a fund-raising effort that raised 47,000 Irish pounds from private donors. The money was used to purchase six cavalry horses for the British military.

"Horses have always been a kind of common ground between Ireland and England," Irwin wrote, "and I thought this would be a quiet, but symbolic, way of joining hands across the sea."  

So what's the connection between Sefton and research?

I came across Sefton's story without actually looking for it. I was in Ireland a few weeks ago doing preliminary research for a book about Shergar, a Thoroughbred stallion that was stolen from an Irish stud farm owned by the Aga Khan in 1983. Conventional wisdom is that the horse was taken by the Irish Republican Army and held for ransom--he never was recovered and no ransom was paid--but I think the story is more complicated. I touched base with Jonathan Irwin in County Kildare, who I knew from my days at The Blood-Horse, which led me to his book, which led me to Sefton.

Looking for one story, I stumbled across another interesting one. And that's why I love research!

  

The Review Conundrum

                                                                     Milton C. Toby photo

by Milton C. Toby

Book reviews come with an inherent contradiction that I have never managed to sort out to my satisfaction. We love the good reviews and pass them around shamelessly to anyone who’ll pay attention, while hating and hiding, as best we can, the bad ones. The mostly unspoken assumption is that the author of a favorable review is erudite, intelligent, and discriminating, a literary heavyweight whose opinion matters. A bad review, on the other hand, almost certainly was written by a person residing somewhere south of us on the evolutionary scale, a knuckle-dragger whose opinion can be safely ignored.

But does the perceived distinction between a good review and a bad one actually make sense? Probably not. (I’m ignoring the trolls who surf the internet and post scathing reviews just for the sake of making authors miserable. The trolls truly are the bottom-feeders of social media!)

I enjoy a good review as much as anyone, but the satisfaction is fleeting. The critical reviews, on the other hand, have been far more valuable.

Dance’s Image: The Forgotten Story of the 1968 Kentucky Derby, was an award winner with positive reviews—all except one. In a post-Derby epilogue I summarized the career of Hall of Fame jockey Bobby Ussery, who won the 1967 Kentucky Derby with longshot Proud Clarion and who finished first in the 1968 running. Although Dancer’s Image subsequently was disqualified for a controversial medication positive, Bobby Ussery still thinks of himself (rightly in my opinion) as the winner of back-to-back runnings of the most famous race in the world. I named the other back-to-back winners—it’s s short list—but in the process somehow managed to leave out the most obvious one, Ron Turcotte, rider of Riva Ridge and Secretariat.

The 1968 Kentucky Derby            George Featherston/Keeneland Library photo

One Amazon reviewer who happened to be a big fan of Turcotte’s took me to task over the omission. Getting a fact wrong is the kiss of death for a nonfiction author, and I was annoyed and suitably humbled by the one-star review. But I got over it. The bad review hurt, but it gave me the opportunity to correct the error for the book’s second printing.

A "good book, but . . ." review for Noor: A Champion Thoroughbred’s Unlikely Journey from California to Kentucky, proved to be even more valuable. The reviewer pointed out a couple of minor—but annoying nonetheless—factual errors. The review again gave me the opportunity to have the errors corrected, but it also demonstrated a fundamental shortcoming in my writing process.

I needed an independent fact-checker who knew the minutia of Thoroughbred racing and who was willing to pick through a manuscript with an eye for errors that neither I nor my advance readers noticed. I contacted the reviewer, thanked her for pointing out the issues with Noor, and asked her to check the facts in my next book, Cañonero II: The Rags to Riches Story of the Kentucky Derby’s Most Improbable Winner. She did a great job vetting the facts in Cañonero II and has agreed to serve as fact-checker on a book my agent is shopping around now, a history of racing’s addiction to performance enhancing drugs. I never would have connected with Val if not for a critical review.

In the end, a book review—good, bad, or indifferent—is what it is, one person’s opinion that we as authors can do with as we please.

Lord of the Rings author J.R.R. Tolkien perhaps said it best:

“Some who have read the book, or at any rate have reviewed it, have found it boring, absurd, or contemptible, and I have no cause to complain, since I have similar opinions of their works, or of the kinds of writing that they evidently prefer.”

If you’re an author, how do you balance the good reviews with the bad? If you’re a reader, how important are reviews to your book selections?