Where Is 'Airs Above The Ground' Set Geographically?

Ever since I picked up 'Airs Above the Ground', the setting stuck with me like a vivid postcard. The story unfolds in Austria, specifically around Vienna and the surrounding alpine regions. The author paints such a crisp picture of the Austrian countryside—rolling green hills, quaint villages with onion-domed churches, and those majestic Lipizzaner stallions prancing at the Spanish Riding School. You can almost smell the fresh hay and hear the horses' hooves on cobblestones. The narrative also dips into Yugoslavia (now Croatia) during a tense border-crossing scene, adding Cold War-era intrigue. What makes this setting special is how it mirrors the characters' journeys—both literally through mountainous terrain and metaphorically through political divides.

As someone who traveled through Europe last summer, I geeked out over the geographical details in 'Airs Above the Ground'. The novel’s primary stage is Austria, but it cleverly uses multiple locations to amplify the plot. Vienna shines as a cultural hub where ballroom scenes contrast with espionage lurking beneath gilt-edged cafes. Then there’s the rural side—Styrian farms with timbered barns and foggy mountain passes that become perilous during nighttime chases.

The Yugoslavian segments (set near what’s now Zagreb) are equally gripping. The author doesn’t just name-drop places; she crafts tension through geography. Border patrols scrutinizing papers at remote checkpoints, dense forests hiding partisans, and makeshift airstrips carved into valleys—all these settings heighten the stakes. What fascinates me is how the landscape influences the horses too. The Lipizzaners’ training grounds mirror Austria’s elegance, while their wilder instincts emerge during scenes set near the untamed Karst Plateau.

Mary Stewart’s 'Airs Above the Ground' made me dig out my old atlas—the geography is that integral. Central Europe steals the spotlight, with Austria’s imperial grandeur anchoring the story. Imagine stone palaces in Vienna where Lipizzaners dance to Mozart, then sudden cuts to gritty truck stops near the Yugoslav border where our protagonists dodge shady dealers.

What’s brilliant is how Stewart contrasts locations. The Spanish Riding School’s polished floors reflect societal order, while the Croatian backroads (all muddy ruts and stray dogs) symbolize chaos. Even minor stops matter—like Gasthofs serving schnitzel alongside whispered warnings. The horses bridge these worlds, equally graceful in royal arenas or bolting through alpine storms. For deeper immersion, I recommend pairing the book with a virtual tour of Schönbrunn Palace’s stables—it’ll make the setting click instantly.