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Summary
Summary
The inspiring novel about real life princess and equestrienne Haya of Jordan.
Princess Haya loves her family more than anything--especially her mother who brings light and happiness into King Hussein's house. So when Queen Alia is killed in a tragic accident, Princess Haya is devastated. Knowing how unhappy she is and how much she loves horses, Haya's father, King Hussein, gives her a special present: a foal of her very own. And this foal changes Princess Haya's world completely.
Set in an exotic locale where royalty is real, this story of a determined modern-day princess is both beautiful and awe-inspiring. Perfect for fans of Black Beauty , Misty of Chincoteague and anyone who wonders what it's like to be a real princess.
Praise for THE PRINCESS AND THE FOAL:
"Empowering and vigorous, this is a story sure to please princess fans, horse fans and, yes, even tomboys."-- Kirkus Reviews
" This real princess's story is great and this book provides a positive and powerful story, especially for adolescent girl readers who choose to saddle up for the ride."-- VOYA Magazine
" Horse enthusiasts will devour Gregg's engaging novel about Jordanian Princess Haya Bint Al Hussein, inspired by the real-life princess who became an Olympic equestrian....Gregg's greatest strength is in detailing the deep, sensual bond that can form between a human and a horse, but the sympathetic protagonist and a setting rarely seen in middle-grade fiction make this an inspiring read for any reader."-- Publishers Weekly
"In addition to being a great fit for fans of princess or horse stories, this would be a good choice for readers who enjoy stories of brave, scrappy girls who defy convention."-- Booklist
Author Notes
Stacy Gregg is the author of The Girl Who Rode the Wind and The Island of Lost Horses, which made the New Zealand Best Seller List in 2015. She will be featured at the annual Storylines Festival of New Zealand Children's Writers and Illustrators 2015.
(Bowker Author Biography)
Reviews (5)
Publisher's Weekly Review
Horse enthusiasts will devour Gregg's engaging novel about Jordanian Princess Haya Bint Al Hussein, inspired by the real-life princess who became an Olympic equestrian. The book offers a peek into the everyday life of contemporary royalty--playing in the palace, omnipresent bodyguards, and birthday gifts (for a six-year-old) that include two camels and a motherless Arabian foal--while presenting vivid glimpses of Bedouin culture. Horse-lover Princess Haya lost her mother to a helicopter crash when she was three; caring for the foal brought joy and meaning back into her life, and she went on to become an extraordinary horsewoman at a young age. Gregg (the Pony Club Secrets series) tells her story in simple yet moving language, creating a strong portrait of Princess Haya, who faces challenges both ordinary (making friends at boarding school) and unusual (learning to train a falcon). Gregg's greatest strength is in detailing the deep, sensual bond that can form between a human and a horse, but the sympathetic protagonist and a setting rarely seen in middle-grade fiction make this an inspiring read for any reader. Ages 10--up. Agent: Nancy Miles, Miles Stott Literary Agency. (Sept.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
Horn Book Review
Princess Haya of Jordan, whose mother died when she was three, raises an orphaned Arabian foal named Bree. After much training, they ride for the Royal Stables in the Jordanian King's Cup. Details of Princess Haya's Bedouin ancestry and her challenges at boarding school in England enliven this sweet, heartening girl-and-horse tale based on the real-life Olympic equestrienne Princess Haya's accomplishments. (c) Copyright 2014. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Booklist Review
Princess Haya of Jordan had a fairy-tale childhood until, at the age of three, her mother died in an accident. Life worsens when her affectionate nanny is replaced by a cold governess. Her loving but distant father is sympathetic to Haya's sadness and gives her an orphaned foal from his stables on her sixth birthday. With something to care for, Haya begins to recover from her grief, but her governess opposes the princess riding horses and mucking stalls, and the ongoing tension comes to a head when Haya enters the King's Cup show-jumping competition, joining a team of adult men. In this tale based on the true story of Jordanian princess Haya Bint Al Hussein, Gregg's strong, sparse text effectively conveys the princess' loneliness, confusion, and all-consuming love of her horse, and an epilogue summarizes her many real-life accomplishments. In addition to being a great fit for fans of princess or horse stories, this would be a good choice for readers who enjoy stories of brave, scrappy girls who defy convention.--Harold, Suzanne Copyright 2010 Booklist
School Library Journal Review
Gr 4-6-A tale based on the real experiences of a Jordanian princess, this girl and horse story has all the classic elements. Seven-year-old Haya loses her mother to a helicopter accident; her father gives her an orphan foal to raise. The foal grows into a talented mare; the girl grows into a feisty horsewoman even in the face of her severe governess, who thinks girls should only be ladylike. At 12, Haya is sent to a British boarding school, where she thrives-until images of the events of 9/11 on TV throw her into a breakdown. A page later she wakes up back home in Jordan, weak but thrilled to be reunited with her horse. Almost immediately, she determines to join the stable team in a traditional and very high stakes competition involving horses; her training for this event is much condensed as she works hard to develop her raw talent quickly. Of course, this being a fairy tale, she leads her team to victory. Much of the story reads like Walter Farley's The Black Stallion-but her breakdown is jarring, unexplained, and confusing. Told in third person until the crisis of the competition day, the book's format then changes to a letter to her mother, italicized and in first person, a disruption in perspective. The connection to the true story of the real but unfamiliar princess the protagonist is based on doesn't give it more substance.-Dorcas Hand, Annunciation Orthodox School, Houston, TX (c) Copyright 2014. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Kirkus Review
An energizing middle-grade tale inspired by true events. Real-life princess Haya Bint Al Hussein is only 3 when her mother, Queen Alia of Jordan, is killed in a helicopter crash. Grief and a nasty governess (who adds fabulous tension to the story) subsume the princess until her father, King Hussein, gives her a 3-day-old orphaned foal from his stables for her sixth birthday. Haya and the foal, whom she names Breeshort for Bint Al-Reeh, or "Daughter of the Wind"go on to compete, six years later, in Jordan's prestigious King's Cup. The present-tense, third-person narrative (except for two first-person epistolary segments) rivets readers as they learn about the inside world of a 12-year-old-to-be Jordanian princessthat and the horsey element would, by themselves, guarantee an audience. But Gregg goes much further, showing readers a strong-willed but compassionate girl who understands that her royal blood is not about privilege but about caring for others and who discovers her own inner strength in her determination to follow her dream of competing (lessons that stretch far beyond the royal set). It's also a refreshingly active storyHaya is riding and leaping and playing outdoors (when she's not grounded) on nearly every page. Empowering and vigorous, this is a story sure to please princess fans, horse fans and, yes, even tomboys. (Fiction. 9-13) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Excerpts
Excerpts
Midnight, August 23, 1986 Hello, Mama, I am underneath my blankets with a flashlight as I write this. I don't dare turn the lights on because Frances might see and know that I am awake, and the last person I want to deal with right now is Frances. I should be asleep, but I am too full of nerves about tomorrow. Santi has a calendar in his office at the stables and I have marked off the squares in red pen one by one, the knot in my belly tightening as the day grows closer. For a long time it seemed forever away. And now suddenly there is no more waiting. In a few hours it will be dawn and I will go down to the stables and prepare Bree. I'll braid her tail and bandage her legs and then we will load the horses onto the truck and travel across the desert, bound on a journey that must end in either defeat or honor and glory for the Royal Stables. I am trembling as I write these words to you and I tell myself that it is not fear, it is excitement. In all the history of the King's Cup there has never been a girl rider. But I am not just a girl. I am a Bedouin of the Hashemite clan, and I was born to ride. Thousands of years ago the women of my tribe sat astride their horses in battle and fought side by side with men. Well, I do not want to fight--all I want to do is win. A thousand faces will stare down from the grandstand tomorrow. Baba will watch me from the royal box with Ali by his side, and no doubt Frances will have elbowed her way in too. She'll be waiting for me to fail, to make a fool of myself in front of all those people. All the time undermining me to Baba, saying it is not right for the daughter of the king of Jordan to spend her time hanging around the stables, mucking out the dung. She is always trying to make me into something I am not. Frances wants me to be like some princess in the storybooks--confined to my tower, dressed in ball gowns and a golden crown and glass slippers. I mean, who in their right mind would wear glass slippers? If I had my way, I would wear jodhpurs all day long. "Your mother always comported herself as a gracious lady." That is exactly what Frances says. She talks so posh that sometimes it is as if she is the royal one and not just my governess. Frances is always telling me I should be more like you. It is so annoying because if you were actually here then I wouldn't have to listen to her. I would be allowed to do as I like and I would never have to wear stupid dresses to dinner or put up with any of the rules that Frances makes up. I tell her that you were a queen, but you wore a T-shirt and jeans. I remember your favorite pair of red jeans. The ones you bought in Rome when you were very young, before you married Baba. You wore those red jeans and your long hair was always loose over your shoulders and swept back off your face. I have grown my hair long now too, but it is plain brown. Baba insists that I look just like you, but you always looked like a movie star to me with your green eyes and dark blond hair. If I close my eyes sometimes, I can see your face and hear your laughter like music filling the palace at Al Nadwa. I remember I would ask you, "Can I become a queen one day?" and your answer was always the same. You would tell me, "Haya, you are a princess of Jordan. Perhaps one day you will be a queen, Inshallah. But remember your title is on a piece of paper, on a page of a history book, no more than that. It's what you have inside that means everything. You must always be yourself, Haya, never pretend. Do you understand?" I would look at your face and you would be very serious, but then you would pick me up and smother me with kisses until I giggled and we would laugh together as you held me close in your arms. The last time I asked you this question we were in the gardens at Al Nadwa. It was a summer day and you had spread a blanket on the lawn in the shade of the big pomegranate tree. Ali was there with us too, playing with his toys. At least I think Ali was there. Sometimes I wonder if I am making bits up. I am twelve now and that day has faded in my mind like an old photograph. I have another memory and this one is very clear. We are outside Baba's office, you and me and Ali. You are kneeling down on the marble floor in front of Ali, grasping his tiny hands as he wobbles on his chubby little legs. He steadies himself and then gently, carefully, you let him go. You keep your arms encircling him as Ali rocks back and forth, but he doesn't fall and you smile with delight and pick him up and say, "Oh, my darling Ali. Now that you can stand on your own feet I can leave you for a while." Mama, I have been doing my best to stand up, to find my feet without you there to hold my hands. My two legs were not strong enough at first, but then Bree came along with four legs to carry us both. Her heart and courage gave me the strength that I needed. I wish you could be there to see me ride her tomorrow. Baba says that if I have something important to tell you, I should write to you. But I could never do it. Not until tonight. I have so much to tell you, about me and Bree and everything that has happened since you've been gone. But it is very late and my hand is getting a cramp. It is quite hard writing on a mattress when I am holding a flashlight in one hand and trying to breathe under the blankets. If you were here, you would tell me to finish the letter tomorrow and get some sleep. Mama, you know how I said I wasn't afraid? Well, maybe I am, just a little. This is the greatest contest in the kingdom; what if Bree and I are not good enough? I do not care that Frances and her supporters think it is wrong for a princess to ride. But I know how important this is to our people and I feel the weight of expectation upon me. When I ride into that arena, I carry their hopes along with me and I am determined that I will not let them down. I do this to make Baba proud, but also to prove myself, to show them that when I am on a horse I am the equal of any man. I am a princess, but this is no fairy tale. If it were, then I would know what is to come, my happily-ever-after. But I do not yet know how the story will end. All I know is that this story of me and Bree begins like fairy tales do: Many years ago, once upon a time in Arabia . . . Excerpted from The Princess and the Foal by Stacy Gregg All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
