Saddled: How a Spirited Horse Reined Me in and Set Me Free

Saddled spoke very deeply of Ms. Richards abusive childhood and the influences that shaped her into the adult she grew to be. Saddled outlines in great detail the lonely, neglected childhood that the Richards children led. This book brings into sharp focus the realities of the author's previous 2 books. As I read this book, I kept saying "aha"! to myself, as I learned of the terrible injustices that were laid on the author and her brother. The people who were responsible for raising Ms. Richards and her brother caused much damage and it takes a lot of time and energy to overcome such damage. Ms. Richards has overcome her abusive childhood experiences with grace. Ms. Richards writes with candor, transparency and extreme courage. I found it extremely inspirational.

Saddled, by Susan Richards, is the author's story of her realization that she (and her then husband) were both alcoholics in a loveless marriage. Susan finds the strength to break away and go out on her own when she acquires a stubborn, bossy Morgan filly named Georgia. Georgia is the catalyst for Susan to change her life and become sober. Susan has to fight to get Georgia back from her husband after their marriage breaks up, and it is the battle--and ensuing journey--which this story revolves around. Susan rebuilds her life in the company of Georgia, two other companion horses and the dogs and cat which make up her new household, while she perseveres to find her course in life. She recounts her early life, in flashback style, as she recalls a painful childhood of being shuffled around from relative to relative. Once on her own, Susan is drawn to social work and pursues her master's degree in the field. Ultimately, she realizes her long-held dream of becoming a writer. This is an extremely readable, personal book. Susan's story of her own journey to find her true course in life, aided by a Queen Bee mare, is a true-life, sometimes bitter, sometimes sweet journey. I highly recommend this one.

Have you ever loved an animal so much, and felt that affection reciprocated, that you'd do just about anything to see your beloved pet kept safe and happy? Susan Richards has enjoyed such a bond with her horse Georgia, and was willing to risk just about everything to see her horse protected and free from her violent ex-husband. In Saddled, author Richards details life with an abusive, alcoholic husband, her own battle with alcoholism, and how spending time with her cocky, opinionated, spirited horse was her only true refuge. The reader is given a glimpse into a life full of beer bottles, waking up with hangovers, and falling out-of-love. While Richards struggles with this once briefly idyllic life turned topsy-turvy by alcohol, the reader is drawn into what it was like living on a peaceful farm in the Adirondack mountains of New York in a loveless marriage. Richards moves from her marriage, to her divorce, to struggling to live on her own and finally building a new life. She is painfully honest about her mistakes and her own faults. To help understand how a woman who seemed to have it all ended up with almost nothing, the book moves between the late 1970s and Richard's childhood where, after losing her mother to leukemia and father to a bottle, she was bounced around between relatives who didn't want her and weren't shy about making those feelings known. It is no wonder Richards felt lost and unloved. While other people may have simply given up and found solace in alcohol, Richards had, during her brief marriage, admitted her drinking problem and swore to drink no more. It was a struggle, certainly, but the knowledge of being needed by her horse kept her moving forward. When she left the Adirondack farm for good - due to her knife wielding husband - there was no way to retrieve her beloved horse. And so she fought, and accumulated lawyer bills, until Georgia was returned to her. Throughout each new struggle Richards faced, it was always the love from her horse that kept her going. I was drawn into Saddled from the very first page. Perhaps it is because, like the author, I'm "owned" by several horses and can relate to her incredible attachment to these amazing animals. She describes her interactions with Georgia in a funny and engaging way, and as a woman who has a true sense of the equine mind. But beyond that, the author has a very easy writing style, somewhat self-deprecating, and frequently humorous. It kept the story flowing and, although the topic is quite somber, I never felt dampened or discouraged by the sad story. In fact, I had quite the opposite reaction. I found Saddled to be uplifting and enjoyable. Quill says: Whether you're an animal lover, or simply a lover of a good memoir, Saddled is likely to draw you in and keep you reading until the very last page.

Susan Richards' "Saddled" is about more than horse ownership. It's about love, addiction and recovery as well. Richards writes honestly about the abusive relationships she endured and about her alcoholism. Until she meets a Morgan mare named Georgia, Richards spends all of her time drinking. She stops because she knows that she needs to be sober to keep the beloved horse, but she continues other addictive patterns that were established early in her life. Shuttled amongst various unaccepting family members, Richards' best childhood friend is a pony named Bunty. Through her adult life, she finds a spiritual acceptance and friendship amongst equines and decides that she wants to have one again. Thus, Georgia, Tempo and Hotshot come into the story. Even still, she finds that she needs to develop her independence and figure out who she is without alcohol and then begins to truly enter recovery. This is not an easy book to read because of some of the issues Richards discusses. Her style is open and honest, and I think that people in recovery would benefit from it as long as they were not at a place where they were fragile and find it triggering. Ultimately, it is a story of renewal, success and joy. As a former equestrian athlete, I also recommend this book to horse and animal lovers who have known the companionship of a snuffling muzzle and a kind nicker. (Review based on uncorrected advance proof.)

At too early an age, after the complete disassemblage of her family -- her mother had died of leukemia, a manic depressive father had disappeared down a bottle, and her older brother was sent off to boarding school in South Carolina -- the author was sent away to live with her maternal grandfather, his scornful second wife, Jean, and their adoptive daughter, Nancy -- to Susan, all human thorns who made clear one thing. That she was not wanted. Poor grades kept the author standing beside the rail day after day, watching Nancy at her riding lesson, seeing how uncomfortable the adoptive daughter rode in her saddle, not in tune with her horse. Nancy's horse's bit becomes painful steel between the author's teeth, the horse's bad day, hers. Too strong a jerk on the reins, and the author's mouth aches. Spur kicks transmit to the author's own back. It was then, reflecting by the rail, that Nancy's horse's travails became a direct extension of the author's young painful life. "She [Nancy] never connects to her horse because she doesn't understand her horse at all, that it is a being, an entity, a whole separate personality with likes and dislikes, good days and bad days and everything else. It is only missing the ability to speak. But I know how a horse talks. It's all there in the eyes, the angle of the head, the posture, the gait, and how she carries her tail. It will tell you who a horse is, what she thinks of you, what she thinks of what you're doing, and what she wants. Nancy doesn't see any of this. She rides her horse like a bike, something without thought or feeling. They go around and around the ring, but they're like two strangers on a sidewalk. They're walking in the same direction, but they're not together." As the book unfolds, that same deep-seated awareness of her own horse Georgia's pains and delights helped to guide the author out of a tormentous marriage and dependency on alcohol, toward a resolution of sorts. That living things, whether human or equine, deserve love and to be loved. That nothing else matters so dearly as the love we give each another.