The Toymakers opens in 1906 with Cathy, a pregnant sixteen-year-old who runs away from home in order to avoid being forced to give up her baby. She sees an advert for a sales person for Papa Jack’s Emporium, a toy shop with a legendary status, and buys a one-way ticket to London. It wasn’t quite magical realism because the fantastical elements in the toy shop were not presented as the mundane, it was clear other shops don’t offer flying patchwork reindeer or Tardis-like wendy houses, for instance, but they did start to feel more like everyday occurrences once Cathy officially moves in. This gave the story magical realism vibes, even if the writing can’t technically be classed as such. I’ll be the first to admit that the first 100 pages were so bizarre that I struggled to feel any emotional attachment to the characters, but after the outbreak of the First World War, the story really comes into its own. The way Dinsdale contrasted the blatant magic of the toys, and accompanying innocence of childhood, with the grim reality of war and violence was haunting.
Papa Jack, of Papa Jack’s Emporium, has two mini-mes in the form of his sons, Kasper and Emil. Their shared interest in toy-making, and in Cathy, is pretty much where their similarities end. Kasper is the older, more charming and successful one, whereas Emil constantly feels as if he’s living in his brother’s shadow. It would have been so easy to turn these brothers into a continuation of the whole brother-rivalry trope that is everywhere in literature recently, but thankfully they developed quite nuanced personalities as the story went on. When Kasper comes back from the Front a shadow of his former self, we see a whole new, more disturbing side to both of the brothers.
Once Kasper returns from the war suffering from PTSD and deeply disillusioned with everything, Emil not only discovers that his famous toy soldiers are refusing to fight each other but that they have developed a sort of autonomy of their own and rebelled against their toy owner masters. They escape from their packaging and run free in the skirting boards of the Emporium. Of course, this sounds ridiculous, but one has to see this less in the literal sense and more in the wider context of the First World War and the effect the conflict had on real-life soldiers. How we wish soldiers across both sides of the war could have just refused to fight and ignored their masters as the toys did. Obviously, that would never have been possible for them, there are no convenient skirting boards for them to escape into, but it’s a wonderful image. More than anything, the actions of these toy soldiers really emphasised the futility of the war, and the fact that there really were no winners here, just some countries who were marginally less decimated than others.
I understand that this story won’t be for everyone, and the writing does take getting used to but if you’re not drawn in right away, I would still recommend persevering. The story goes on to become much more moving and poignant than the initial 100 or so pages, with its juvenile descriptions and magical toys, leads you to believe.
Thank you to Netgalley and the publisher for sending me a copy to review .