Before the publication of this book, there was a little short story entitled Shifters that whet my appetite for the then unpublished Water Horse. Somehow, I was under the impression that this novel would be about the McRae brothers based on nothing but my own imagination.

And instead I got Meg, George, and Sigurd. Three characters that are entirely different and have nothing to do with the previous ones, but the world is the same: a Wild West that has magic, shapeshifters, supernatural creatures, and evil immortals.

I must confess that the Wild West that’s anything else but purely the Wild West hasn’t been to my liking in anything I’ve tried so far. I was unamused by Catherynne M. Valente’s magic Wild West retelling of Snow White, cringed at seeing Wyatt Earp in Emma Bull’s magical Wild West novel, and threw Stephen King’s Fantasy gunslinger book out the window and perilously near the cat. I’m not a purist about magic in historical periods, not at all, I can only chalk this aversion to personal taste. So when I found out this novel had more magic than I’d thought it would, I wasn’t enthusiastic anymore, but still followed through with reading it.

You see, I had expected, based on “Shifters,” that the magical aspects would be derived from Native American folklore, in which case I’m totally down with it. It’s magic native to the land, indigenous to the place, and more to my liking than “imported” magic. Like, the European settlers and colonisers would be non-magical and the Natives and those with Native blood would have magic. That’s what I thought would happen.

But would it reflect the reality? The Wild West was a melting pot, whites of different European ethnicities, blacks, Chinese and other Asians, Latinos and Spaniards all lived there besides the aboriginal Native Americans, and they all brought with them their folklore to those lands. So, would it make sense for the European settlers to bring everything from their home country excepting their magic?

No, of course not. The real-life settlers of the Wild West imported their fairy tales, legends, and myths too; not just their food and social customs. As a regular reader of fairy tales, I can tell you that some “American” fairy tales are just retold European fairy tales, some even blatantly copied from the Grimms and Perrault. They just toss in a few local elements from America, make a few little changes, and that’s it. The American fairy tales that aren’t Native American in origin, are all retold European, African, and Asian fairy and folktales. If the US is a racial and cultural melting pot, it makes sense that it would be a magical melting pot in fiction too.

That’s what shifted my perspective and my comfort level, and I could finally dive into the story in full.

This story has three characters as POVs, one American and two “imported products” who arrive there for specific reasons, each different enough that they don’t mingle into one “voice” for all as it happens with multiple-POV plots. I’d say Sigurd is the more distinct voice, or perhaps it’s me who sees him as the bright one that stands out contrasted with Meg and George, who are duller in comparison. He has a very British phlegmatic attitude towards everything in life, a dry and deadpan humour, and a comically dignified persona given who and what he truly is. I’m sure he wasn’t meant to always be this funny, but that’s precisely why I found him funny, like an accidental kind of baby fathered by Woland (hey, he has a cat!) and Hannibal Lecter (hey, he eats people . . . well, people’s bad emotions, but it counts!).

Yes, I’m aware my simile is weird and probably hyperbolic. No, knowing the author’s sense of humour, I don’t think it was unintentional.

As I’ve not read “The Scorpio Races,” the references and the ranch and the horses flew over my head. I saw that arc as more of a Western’s staple, as required by law as gunfights and cowboys. I admit that it wasn’t easy to like the Calhouns’ story together, except when Sigurd walked into the picture to mess with things and Meg in special. Not sure if this is going to be a matter of taste for other readers, but Meg and George separately read more interesting than Meg and George together. Couple chemistry or lack thereof. Personal taste. Whatever it was, it became a case of a story working better without romance than with it, for me.

I’m intrigued by the possibilities for the Irish mythical creatures that arrived in America behind Meg, what messes they could make in the wide open Wild West. Would there be rivalries between European magical creatures and Native American magical creatures? Oh, I bet! And why not? There were ethnic rivalries amongst the human settlers, so why wouldn’t it happen with the non-human ones too? It’d be very interesting to explore forceful settlement and colonisation through the lens of magical creatures. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this kind of scenario in a Fantasy, it’d be unique. I mean, the water horses that eat flesh are by the end all set in collision course with the Native American magical creatures that won’t be thrilled at the perspective of them or their protégés becoming food for European magic invaders, no? Giant mess and magical war to rival the human war between settlers and natives incoming, methinks.

Anyway, I can’t say I’ve now became a fan of magic Wild West settings, but if someday I see Tolkien’s Elves doing barbecued brisket in a Texan ranch, I won’t make my cat the victim of a flying book landing on him.