As usual, this book has a horse racing background, but again as usual it is combined with a different profession. In this case, it combines film direction with horses to produce an exciting and compelling mystery. The writing is excellent (no present tense here), and the research into the world of film-making must have been extensive. The tension and suspense are maintained till the end.

Love everything by Dick and Felix Frances

I wrote a review explaining that I have been reading the latest Dick Frances book for fifty years. I hate auto correct because of what it did to my review. Now on my phone I have a chance to say I love the sparse writing style of both Frances men.

For years, Dick Francis novels have been my traditional beach read. Sand, surf, and an English horse racing mystery--that was it. Now rereading these books, strange things stick in my mind. The plot of "Wild Horses" had completely escaped my memory, but what stuck was the last scene completely unrelated to the plot proper. Years before, I had seen a 10-minute 16mm film called "Dream of Wild Horses" (now available on YouTube) that came strongly back to me when I read the novel. That is what stuck. This time around, I was impressed with its treatment of sexual ethics, something that did not hit me the first time I read the book. This time I wondered if current powerful men could not profit from studying the way the hero establishes a professional relationship with a 16-year-old girl without molesting, frightening, or harassing her. Mark it down to signs of the times.

One of my favorite Dick Francis novels. I’ve just re-read this for the fourth or fifth time. The main character is a film director, and I love the framing plot of making a movie. Of course, the movie is inspired by true events from twenty-six years ago, and some people are willing to murder to prevent the movie from being made. . . and the true events revolve around an unsolved mystery.

Francis’ novels always seem to have great characters, excellent plot, and effective prose. Some are better than others, but I don’t think there’s a bad one in the bunch.

I have read many of Dick Francis’s books and have always enjoyed the linkage of the mystery story to the horse world. This book was a real disappointment as the horse world was so far in the background that it was hardly noticeable. The story about the making of a movie which by coincidence had a few horses and characters involved in the racing industry was all right but not, in my opinion, up to Francis’s usual standard.

Never disappointed by Dick Francis. In this, he lends his eye for insider detail to not only the horse crowd (of course), but the world of filmmaking as well (back when it was still film). Deftly weaving together these two worlds, he stays just ahead of the reader, leading them from confusion to conclusion.

Oh, boy. This book. Where to start?

Wild Horses is the first recognisably modern Dick Francis that I've read (the characters have mobile phones! and reference Prozac!), which honestly caused a bit of cognitive dissonance for me. I can deal with Francis's stoical male protagonists and flimsy love interests when it's the 70s, but it all gets a bit uncomfortable when it's supposed to be 1994 and the 30-year-old protag (a Gen X'er!) acts like your killjoy grandpa.

(Tangent: whyyyyyyyyyyyyy is there always such self-hating homoeroticism in Dick Francis's books? Why is there always a dashing gentleman who the hero is blatantly infatuated with -- in this case, movie star Nash -- who is unconvincingly tossed aside in the final chapter so that the protag can end up with an underwritten wisp of girl? I mean, am I reading this wrong????)

Nonetheless, I quite liked the premise of Wild Horses: it's a story within a story, with KilljoyGrandpa as a hotshot movie director making a film about an unsolved true crime case from 30 years ago. He begins trying to solve the case -- and gets too close to the truth!!!!! Obviously, this is right up my alley. (The only thing that would have made it more relevant to my interests was if someone was making a podcast about the true crime case.)

Of course, the usual Dick Francis suspension of disbelief insanities are in place: we're expected to believe that, in the 90s, horse racing is such a cultural phenom that everyone (EVERYONE) gets their news from some shitty horse racing newspaper. And that a movie studio would name its major new release, Unstable Times. (Because... stables??? Yeah!) Plus, this (pretty terrible-sounding) movie about horse racing attracts A-list talent and wins multiple Oscars. Riiiiiiiight. Seems legit.

My favourite insane subplot is that KilljoyGrandpa wants to include in the movie a shot of some WILD HORSES cantering down the beach. So he gets a guy to kidnap (horsenap?) some WILD HORSES from Norway, pop 'em in a shipping container, and then let 'em loose on some godforsaken shore in East Anglia. What the actual fuck.

There's too much movie-making jargon weighing down the novel and the melodramatic conclusion to the mystery doesn't gel well with its old-school feel. But, goddammit, I'm sort of sorry to see this one go. It's so batshit, you've gotta love it.

ETA: Almost forgot to share the only line in the whole novel that I highlighted on my Kindle. This is KilljoyGrandpa describing the lead actress in his movie, who I guess he hates for ~reasons: "Silva wore no lipstick and a feminist expression." INSCRIBE THIS ON MY GRAVE, PLEASE.

A mediocre book that also leaves a gross taste in the modern reader's mouth. A shame, because I typically like Francis.

If you're wondering what kind of industry culture enabled Weinstein for so many years, look no further - this book (unintentionally and uncritically) captures it quite well.

The main character, a movie director, whines incessantly about the movie's female star being 'feminist'. He does metaphorical backflips to suck up to his film's male star, but is sorely tried by the effort required of him to merely remember not to sound like a condescending pervert when talking to his female counterpart. He complains about this imposition more than he does about getting stabbed in the chest.

The producer, the person who cast that same female lead, is quite obviously using his position to get her to sleep with him. Our hero's reaction is one of envious admiration. Also, several references are made to the 'casting couch' throughout the book. Just... ugh.

Not even Tony Britton's reading could save this one.
I forgot why I stopped buying Francis novels back in the late 90s. It was because kinky sex of one kind or another was becoming far too prominent in plotlines.
I am fascinated by the process of film making and acting, so why did I find this book so dull? Because Francis got so many things so wrong, I guess.
--His Americans all talk like Brits.
--His Big Name Actor is famous for making shoot-em-up Westerns, and yet the man is in his forties. In 1994. Big name Westerns pretty much went out in the 1960s, nearly half a century before.
--The business with the "wild horses" of the title. How can wild horses be trained? Isn't that an oxymoron?
--The nonsense about when a woman loses her virginity she develops pouches under her eyes. "My mother told me" does not excuse that particular gratuitous piece of idiocy.
--The snideness about his Asian bodyguard, which is entirely unnecessary to any aspect of the book.
And to top it all off, almost none of the action would have taken place if Our Hero weren't completely self-absorbed. He only gets involved in the mystery because he wants a way to finish his film; he doesn't even think about consequences to himself or anyone else, as he merrily unleashes mayhem by digging up a cold case.

Verdict: 1.5 stars. It's not Tony Britton's fault, I could feel he wasn't enjoying the project. And for a consummate reader like him, that says something.

I didn’t love this book, I mean I read another review describing the way the author wrote as your “kill joy Grandpa” which I think is extremely accurate. The only reason I am not rating this book less favorably is that an old man I used to wait on shared this book with me and it meant so much to me that he would share the books that he loved with me.
And so I think of the “kill joy Grandpa” as an affectionate term.
I will stop to complain about the casual chauvinism and the flimsy shitty romance that didn’t even need to be in the book though.
All in all, not great but entertaining.
What did you think?
Did you like it?

So this isn't my usual genre, as you can probably tell from my other posts, but a free book is a free book!

I found this book on a street corner, read the blurb and went "sure, what the heck!" And went on my merry way. I've been meaning to get into the mystery genre and who doesn't love a mysterious old man's past coming back to haunt his young friend.
Apparently the book didn't get the memo.

We are introduced to our main character Thomas. A film director returning to his home town to make a movie about a mysterious hanging of a woman 25 years prior. In a visit to a dying old friend said friend on his death bed confesses to a murder. But not the woman's.
Good, right?
Well... no. Most of the books run time is taken up by Thomas actually making said movie. We go through the day to day of the menial tasks watching Thomas and crew make the movie. From set dressing, to acting, to funding. As cool as I'm sure someone into filming would be, as someone who isn't here for that I found myself bored to tears.

The rest of the book is spent as a much more enjoyable small town romp. Thomas visiting and looking after the old relative of the aforementioned dying man. Their relationship and talks are sweet, though often used to make unnecessary drama.

The final "reveal" comes out of left field with little to no build up other than someone trying to randomly stab Thomas and crew a few times.
All round a book I shall return to the road side where it belongs.

Not my favourite Dick Francis.
I've been re-reading his earlier books and this one, published in 1994, is nowhere near as gripping as those. None of the characters are as likeable, the story twists and turns and didn't hold my interest well.
Three stars. Not sure I'll read this one again!