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The Dollmaker
Stitch by perfect stitch, Andrew Garvie makes exquisite dolls in the finest antique style. Like him, they are diminutive but graceful, unique, and with surprising depths. Perhaps that's why he answers the enigmatic personal ad in his collector's magazine.
Letter by letter, Bramber Winters reveals more of her strange, sheltered life in an institution on Bodmin Moor, and the terrible events that put her there as a child. Andrew knows what it is to be trapped, and as they knit closer together, he weaves a curious plan to rescue her.
On his journey through the old towns of England, he reads the fairy tales of Ewa Chaplin--potent, eldritch stories which, like her lifelike dolls, pluck at the edges of reality and thread their way into his mind. When Andrew and Bramber meet at last, they will have a choice--to break free and, unlike their dolls, come to life.
A love story of two very real, unusual people, The Dollmaker is also a novel rich with Andrew's quest and Bramber's letters unspool around the dark fables that give our familiar world an uncanny edge. It is this touch of magic that, like the blink of a doll's eyes, tricks our own.
Letter by letter, Bramber Winters reveals more of her strange, sheltered life in an institution on Bodmin Moor, and the terrible events that put her there as a child. Andrew knows what it is to be trapped, and as they knit closer together, he weaves a curious plan to rescue her.
On his journey through the old towns of England, he reads the fairy tales of Ewa Chaplin--potent, eldritch stories which, like her lifelike dolls, pluck at the edges of reality and thread their way into his mind. When Andrew and Bramber meet at last, they will have a choice--to break free and, unlike their dolls, come to life.
A love story of two very real, unusual people, The Dollmaker is also a novel rich with Andrew's quest and Bramber's letters unspool around the dark fables that give our familiar world an uncanny edge. It is this touch of magic that, like the blink of a doll's eyes, tricks our own.
416 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 4, 2019
83 people are currently reading
3005 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 292 reviews
February 27, 2019
Whilst providing a challenging structure, Nina Allan writes a wonder of a luminous novel littered with dollmakers throughout. It is complex, magical, multilayered, and interspersed with the dark tales providing the reader with stories within the main story that fray and blur the edges of reality. I came close to giving up at the beginning but was richly rewarded as my persistence began to pay off as I got caught up in the atmospheric, magical and deeply unsettling storytelling that whispers of obsession, of dollmakers and love. Whilst set in modern times, it gives off whiffs of the Victorian era and strong elements of the gothic. Short in stature, Andrew Garvie is a dollmaker who finds himself engaged in a burgeoning relationship with Bramber Winters in a mental institution in Bodmin Moor, developed through the letters they exchange.
Like a contemporary knight in shining armour, Andrew embarks on a quest for Bramber, convinced by the strength of his inner feelings for her and what he has learned about her, irrespective of views contrary to his. On his journey, he engages with the chilling and eerie fairytales written by the Polish writer, Ewa Chaplin, with their elements of horror. They strangely echo the unfulfilled and traumatic past and lives of Andrew and Bramber. This is a novel of being different from others, of identity, feeling comfortable in one's skin, of learning to live again, rising above the fractured and fragmented past experiences. Nina Allan gives us twisted and challenging storytelling, not linear in its structure, embracing the bizarre and the odd with the magical, and weaving the threads in the book with true expertise. I adored her stellar characterisation and the beautiful, lyrical and richly descriptive prose. This may not be a book for everyone, especially as it does not seek to provide all the answers, but it works exceptionally well for me. I found it both enthralling and enchanting. Many thanks to Quercus for an ARC.
Like a contemporary knight in shining armour, Andrew embarks on a quest for Bramber, convinced by the strength of his inner feelings for her and what he has learned about her, irrespective of views contrary to his. On his journey, he engages with the chilling and eerie fairytales written by the Polish writer, Ewa Chaplin, with their elements of horror. They strangely echo the unfulfilled and traumatic past and lives of Andrew and Bramber. This is a novel of being different from others, of identity, feeling comfortable in one's skin, of learning to live again, rising above the fractured and fragmented past experiences. Nina Allan gives us twisted and challenging storytelling, not linear in its structure, embracing the bizarre and the odd with the magical, and weaving the threads in the book with true expertise. I adored her stellar characterisation and the beautiful, lyrical and richly descriptive prose. This may not be a book for everyone, especially as it does not seek to provide all the answers, but it works exceptionally well for me. I found it both enthralling and enchanting. Many thanks to Quercus for an ARC.
December 26, 2019
★ THE BEST BOOK OF 2019 ★
After falling in love with Nina Allan’s work over the past year, The Dollmaker was undoubtedly my most anticipated book of 2019. You might think I’d have been eager to start reading the second I got my hands on a copy, but actually I was quite nervous about starting it. What if it didn’t live up to my sky-high expectations? What if it was just good rather than wonderful and perfect? I needn’t have worried. This is indeed a wonderful novel, and though I know it’s a bit silly to use the word ‘perfect’, it’s difficult to see what could possibly be done to improve it.
Like much of Allan’s work, The Dollmaker is a narrative made up of stories within stories and worlds within worlds. The framing narrative is about Andrew Garvie, who may be the title character, or may not: he is one of several dollmakers in the book. He has had a largely lonely existence, characterised by unrequited love and a single, exploitative, sexual relationship. A passion and talent for dollmaking have given his life meaning, but have not fully erased a pervasive sense of emptiness.
This begins to change when he connects with Bramber Winters, who has placed a magazine advertisement looking for a penpal. Over the course of a year of correspondence, Andrew comes to believe he has fallen in love with Bramber. But they have never met in person – she lives hundreds of miles away in a residential home named West Edge House. The exact reason for her apparent confinement there is shrouded in mystery. Having developed the belief that the two of them are ‘destined to be together’, Andrew sets off to visit Bramber, and against the advice of his best friend Clarence, he can’t help but see his journey as both a romantic quest and a rescue mission.
In a post on her blog, Allan described her book Stardust not as a short story collection but as ‘a fractured novel’. The Dollmaker might be said to fit that description too. Though Andrew’s narrative spans the whole book, it is interrupted by Bramber’s letters as well as macabre short stories ostensibly written by Ewa Chaplin – another of The Dollmaker’s dollmakers. Andrew is reading these stories not because they particularly interest him personally but because Bramber is a great admirer of Chaplin. Yet as he reads, he begins to find they have strange similarities to some experiences of his own. These uncanny parallels add a frisson of strangeness to the plot, betraying its underlying darkness.
Reading Nina Allan, for me, is like putting on a dress made of the finest silk, or eating a box of exquisite handmade chocolates. You understand you can’t have that experience all the time, but when you do, you know that a) you’re in the hands of an expert and b) it is something to be savoured. She is a consummate master of the short story, perhaps the best currently working, so of course ‘Ewa Chaplin’s’ tales – five in total – are an entire pleasure in themselves. The perfectly formed ‘Amber Furness’ and the pitch-black, erotically charged ‘Happenstance’ have particularly stuck with me. I’m not going to do a deep dive into all the intertextual references, because... that isn’t going to be interesting to most people reading this, but I was quietly thrilled by the threads connecting The Dollmaker to the universe of Allan’s fiction, for example Anders Tessmond’s resemblance to the clockmaker at the centre of The Silver Wind.
The tagline sums up The Dollmaker as ‘a love story about becoming real’, and it’s remarkable how accurate that is. It feels as though Andrew and Bramber are being written into existence – and, as the reader turns the pages, read into existence. Chaplin’s stories, such eerie mirrors of the protagonists’ lives, are as much a part of this process as Andrew’s monologue and Bramber’s letters. The Dollmaker is the sort of novel that speaks to the power of fiction and the possibilities it contains: I couldn’t shake the thought that my imagination was playing an active role in shaping the narrative.
It’s only February, but I already know I won’t read a better book this year. And I’m fine with that, because The Dollmaker is worth it. Needless to say, every character is beautifully drawn and every moment feels both authentic and magical; this novel is an enchanted castle of stories upon stories, a dizzying labyrinth. I wanted to go on reading it, and living in its world, forever.
I received an advance review copy of The Dollmaker from the publisher through NetGalley.
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After falling in love with Nina Allan’s work over the past year, The Dollmaker was undoubtedly my most anticipated book of 2019. You might think I’d have been eager to start reading the second I got my hands on a copy, but actually I was quite nervous about starting it. What if it didn’t live up to my sky-high expectations? What if it was just good rather than wonderful and perfect? I needn’t have worried. This is indeed a wonderful novel, and though I know it’s a bit silly to use the word ‘perfect’, it’s difficult to see what could possibly be done to improve it.
Like much of Allan’s work, The Dollmaker is a narrative made up of stories within stories and worlds within worlds. The framing narrative is about Andrew Garvie, who may be the title character, or may not: he is one of several dollmakers in the book. He has had a largely lonely existence, characterised by unrequited love and a single, exploitative, sexual relationship. A passion and talent for dollmaking have given his life meaning, but have not fully erased a pervasive sense of emptiness.
This begins to change when he connects with Bramber Winters, who has placed a magazine advertisement looking for a penpal. Over the course of a year of correspondence, Andrew comes to believe he has fallen in love with Bramber. But they have never met in person – she lives hundreds of miles away in a residential home named West Edge House. The exact reason for her apparent confinement there is shrouded in mystery. Having developed the belief that the two of them are ‘destined to be together’, Andrew sets off to visit Bramber, and against the advice of his best friend Clarence, he can’t help but see his journey as both a romantic quest and a rescue mission.
In a post on her blog, Allan described her book Stardust not as a short story collection but as ‘a fractured novel’. The Dollmaker might be said to fit that description too. Though Andrew’s narrative spans the whole book, it is interrupted by Bramber’s letters as well as macabre short stories ostensibly written by Ewa Chaplin – another of The Dollmaker’s dollmakers. Andrew is reading these stories not because they particularly interest him personally but because Bramber is a great admirer of Chaplin. Yet as he reads, he begins to find they have strange similarities to some experiences of his own. These uncanny parallels add a frisson of strangeness to the plot, betraying its underlying darkness.
Reading Nina Allan, for me, is like putting on a dress made of the finest silk, or eating a box of exquisite handmade chocolates. You understand you can’t have that experience all the time, but when you do, you know that a) you’re in the hands of an expert and b) it is something to be savoured. She is a consummate master of the short story, perhaps the best currently working, so of course ‘Ewa Chaplin’s’ tales – five in total – are an entire pleasure in themselves. The perfectly formed ‘Amber Furness’ and the pitch-black, erotically charged ‘Happenstance’ have particularly stuck with me. I’m not going to do a deep dive into all the intertextual references, because... that isn’t going to be interesting to most people reading this, but I was quietly thrilled by the threads connecting The Dollmaker to the universe of Allan’s fiction, for example Anders Tessmond’s resemblance to the clockmaker at the centre of The Silver Wind.
The tagline sums up The Dollmaker as ‘a love story about becoming real’, and it’s remarkable how accurate that is. It feels as though Andrew and Bramber are being written into existence – and, as the reader turns the pages, read into existence. Chaplin’s stories, such eerie mirrors of the protagonists’ lives, are as much a part of this process as Andrew’s monologue and Bramber’s letters. The Dollmaker is the sort of novel that speaks to the power of fiction and the possibilities it contains: I couldn’t shake the thought that my imagination was playing an active role in shaping the narrative.
It’s only February, but I already know I won’t read a better book this year. And I’m fine with that, because The Dollmaker is worth it. Needless to say, every character is beautifully drawn and every moment feels both authentic and magical; this novel is an enchanted castle of stories upon stories, a dizzying labyrinth. I wanted to go on reading it, and living in its world, forever.
I received an advance review copy of The Dollmaker from the publisher through NetGalley.
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April 24, 2019
I was initially attracted to The Dollmaker by the cover and the description but it turned out to be quite different from what I expected. The book has an unusual structure: an episodic first person account by Andrew, a collector and maker of dolls, of his journey to the West Country to meet Bramber; letters from Bramber to Andrew from the institution where she resides; short stories with a dark, fairy tale quality purporting to have been written by dollmaker, Ewa Chaplin.
I found Andrew's narrative with its rather downbeat impression of South-West England a little boring and Bramber's letters unrealistic in their level of detail. The short stories I found slightly creepy and I really didn't get the seeming fixation with dwarves. It was all a bit too strange for me and more than once I considered not finishing it. It was only curiosity that made me persevere to the end and I'm still not certain that effort was worth it. I know others have loved it however its unusual combination of travelogue, short story collection and epistolary confessional just didn't work for me.
I found Andrew's narrative with its rather downbeat impression of South-West England a little boring and Bramber's letters unrealistic in their level of detail. The short stories I found slightly creepy and I really didn't get the seeming fixation with dwarves. It was all a bit too strange for me and more than once I considered not finishing it. It was only curiosity that made me persevere to the end and I'm still not certain that effort was worth it. I know others have loved it however its unusual combination of travelogue, short story collection and epistolary confessional just didn't work for me.
January 10, 2020
I was drawn to this book because of its reviews. They promised stories within stories. I got that. There was a very clear central plot thread, and many blatant messages about marginalized individuals. I felt that most of the characters were easy to sympathize with. Overall it was very well done, except for a few minor mishaps.
Personally, I felt that about 30-40 pages might have been trimmed. The interpolated dark fairy tales were sometimes more interesting than the central narrative. The weakness in the central narrative was the first person narrator's naivety, I thought. He writes to a woman, and despite protests from comrades, and her own disinterest, goes to see her. The internal debate he has with himself is justified by love, but also by sheer naivety.
It was not as dark as I had hoped, and as others had led me to believe (unless you consider garish sex scenes dark). However, the detail was lovely and the atmosphere was mysterious and whimsical. The story has nice variety, with the devices of letters and short stories nestled within most chapters. Extremely engrossing passages crop up throughout.
There is quite a lot of talk about dolls, but I saw this as a plus. The author clearly researched the topic and culture surrounding them. Perhaps more could have been done to explore the cult-like following some dolls and doll-makers have accrued, but the main propulsive element of the novel was the shared interest of the two central figures and their symbolic relation to the fairy tale players. You get many plays within a letter within a short story within a novel scenarios, like nesting Matroshka dolls. Clever structure, compelling magical realism and elegant description set this book apart as a stand-out novel.
Personally, I felt that about 30-40 pages might have been trimmed. The interpolated dark fairy tales were sometimes more interesting than the central narrative. The weakness in the central narrative was the first person narrator's naivety, I thought. He writes to a woman, and despite protests from comrades, and her own disinterest, goes to see her. The internal debate he has with himself is justified by love, but also by sheer naivety.
It was not as dark as I had hoped, and as others had led me to believe (unless you consider garish sex scenes dark). However, the detail was lovely and the atmosphere was mysterious and whimsical. The story has nice variety, with the devices of letters and short stories nestled within most chapters. Extremely engrossing passages crop up throughout.
There is quite a lot of talk about dolls, but I saw this as a plus. The author clearly researched the topic and culture surrounding them. Perhaps more could have been done to explore the cult-like following some dolls and doll-makers have accrued, but the main propulsive element of the novel was the shared interest of the two central figures and their symbolic relation to the fairy tale players. You get many plays within a letter within a short story within a novel scenarios, like nesting Matroshka dolls. Clever structure, compelling magical realism and elegant description set this book apart as a stand-out novel.
April 4, 2019
The Dollmaker is award-winning author Nina Allan's third novel and being the epitome of strange it rather defies classification or categorisation. I have always been drawn to weird or absurdist fiction so this was right up my street. It follows protagonist Andrew who fondly remembers falling in love with a doll, Marina Blue, when he was just a boy leading to his lifelong passion for dolls. He strikes up a friendship with another doll aficionado, a woman who he hopes could be interested in a relationship with him. There are three strands to the plot: Andrew's story, his communication with penpal and possible future partner Bramber and a series of quite creepy fairytales (think Brothers Grimm) which are interspersed throughout.
Allan's writing flows beautifully making it very easy to read it in a single sitting, however, I did find Andrew's journey was a little too slow and drawn out; that is merely a minor point and is, of course, subjective. She writes about neglect and wrongdoing in an engaging manner and you can't help but feel for each of the characters. It's a stark reminder that the way we are brought up can often shape us as people. It meanders at quite a slow pace and has an unusual structure, but once you becomes accustomed to it all it is difficult to put down. This is a very odd novel that will not be for everyone, but those who enjoy offbeat fiction with a dark fairytale vibe will be able to find aspects to love in The Dollmaker.
Many thanks to riverrun for an ARC.
Allan's writing flows beautifully making it very easy to read it in a single sitting, however, I did find Andrew's journey was a little too slow and drawn out; that is merely a minor point and is, of course, subjective. She writes about neglect and wrongdoing in an engaging manner and you can't help but feel for each of the characters. It's a stark reminder that the way we are brought up can often shape us as people. It meanders at quite a slow pace and has an unusual structure, but once you becomes accustomed to it all it is difficult to put down. This is a very odd novel that will not be for everyone, but those who enjoy offbeat fiction with a dark fairytale vibe will be able to find aspects to love in The Dollmaker.
Many thanks to riverrun for an ARC.
October 29, 2020
Another novel that took a while to get seriously into, but once I passed the 20 pages or so mark, I just couldn't put it down until the excellent ending; charming, great characters and very interesting as a story too, though with patches of (almost unexpected) darkness that we discover as we go along - the book while a first-person narration from the very short (almost a dwarf) Andrew Garvie, the dollmaker, employs both first-person letter writing from his pen-pal and doll aficionado, Bramber, and stories from the writer and doll creator Ewa Chaplin who first brings the two together when Bramber inquires in an add about anyone knowing about Chaplin as she was planning to write a book about the enigmatic writer, so it vastly expands its universe beyond Andrew and his life story.
Overall, this is a novel I highly recommend and I suggest to at least try reading a few chapters and see if it doesn't unexpectedly grow so much on the reader that not only one cannot put it down, but one kind of regrets when it ends and would love to read more about the main two characters
Overall, this is a novel I highly recommend and I suggest to at least try reading a few chapters and see if it doesn't unexpectedly grow so much on the reader that not only one cannot put it down, but one kind of regrets when it ends and would love to read more about the main two characters
April 19, 2019
The Dollmaker bears all the hallmarks of Nina Allan’s fiction: it’s an orchestral piece of multiple harmonies, delicately stitched together out of different genres of story. Like the dolls that its central characters love and make it is much more than the found, borrowed and crafted materials from which it is made. Allan specialises in a kind of storytelling that I can best describe as resonant. Motifs, themes and imagery move through her work in a way that is intuitive rather than thematic. I respond to her writing at a gut level long before I understand it.
Andrew Garvie is drawn to dolls from a young age, arrested by the loveliness of their porcelain faces and neat hands. It’s an interest that arouses the suspicions of his family and later his colleagues, who find his interest troubling, as though it reflects something not quite right about him. Culturally dolls are not only toys but also uncanny and magical, sometimes sinister. Andrew’s interest in them marks him as different, possibly deviant; they make him stand out as surely as his small stature. As a dwarf he is already carrying round a heavy baggage of associated folklore and myth.
When we meet him in his mid-30s he’s been deeply lonely for a long long time. Which is why he responds to a personal ad at the back of a doll-collecting magazine, posted by an enigmatic woman called Bramber Winters. She is seeking information about an obscure post-war dollmaker called Ewa Chaplin, an artist and writer whose dolls are vanishingly rare and unique. Andrew doesn’t know a great deal about Ewa but writes anyway, and gradually forms an attachment to Bramber via their correspondence. He knows very little about her real-life circumstances, other than that she lives in some kind of institution, but he feels he understands her and that she, in turn, understands him. It’s an intoxicating feeling.
The novel is constructed from Bramber’s letters to Andrew, interspersed with the story of the journey he makes, unannounced, from London to Devon to visit her. Along the road he reads from Ewa Chaplin’s only published collection of short stories, five of which are included in full.
This sounds relatively mundane, but The Dollmaker is not in a mundane register at all. It’s tone is fantastical, casting a spell-like unreality over Andrew, Bramber and their lives. This is partly achieved through the intercession is Ewa’s stories, which tell of sinister other-worlds in which women fall in love with beggars, alchemists steal time, aunts turn out to be faeries and artists live under harsh theological laws. Threads of glamour, artifice, bewitchment and folktale run through them, which combine with the novel’s fixation on dolls to beg questions about reality, power and passion. These unsettling ideas seep out into the interstices of Andrew and Bramber’s story so that their world - our world? - also seems strange and treacherous. This combination of reality and unreality, the constant shifting of the goal posts of the truth and the imagined is familiar to anyone who has read The Race or The Rift. There is a quality of hallucination to all of Allan’s novels, which constantly challenges you to reassess exactly what kind of story you are reading.
At the centre of the book is the genre of the quest: Andrew’s journey towards Bramber recalls the Arthurian trials of knights who set out to find their true love. He knows he makes an unlikely Lancelot or Galahad but he pushes on, a fact that makes him both very vulnerable and incredibly brave. There are so many times when the novel wrongfoots you about the outcome of his journey. At times it’s so unnerving you dread him reaching his destination; what will be waiting for him there? But although The Dollmaker is sinister it isn’t cynical. There is a sincerity to it that makes it feel buoyant, a yearning towards love and companionship and the possibility of connection through mutual respect that delivers a beautifully delicate and complex ending. I absolutely loved it.
Andrew Garvie is drawn to dolls from a young age, arrested by the loveliness of their porcelain faces and neat hands. It’s an interest that arouses the suspicions of his family and later his colleagues, who find his interest troubling, as though it reflects something not quite right about him. Culturally dolls are not only toys but also uncanny and magical, sometimes sinister. Andrew’s interest in them marks him as different, possibly deviant; they make him stand out as surely as his small stature. As a dwarf he is already carrying round a heavy baggage of associated folklore and myth.
When we meet him in his mid-30s he’s been deeply lonely for a long long time. Which is why he responds to a personal ad at the back of a doll-collecting magazine, posted by an enigmatic woman called Bramber Winters. She is seeking information about an obscure post-war dollmaker called Ewa Chaplin, an artist and writer whose dolls are vanishingly rare and unique. Andrew doesn’t know a great deal about Ewa but writes anyway, and gradually forms an attachment to Bramber via their correspondence. He knows very little about her real-life circumstances, other than that she lives in some kind of institution, but he feels he understands her and that she, in turn, understands him. It’s an intoxicating feeling.
The novel is constructed from Bramber’s letters to Andrew, interspersed with the story of the journey he makes, unannounced, from London to Devon to visit her. Along the road he reads from Ewa Chaplin’s only published collection of short stories, five of which are included in full.
This sounds relatively mundane, but The Dollmaker is not in a mundane register at all. It’s tone is fantastical, casting a spell-like unreality over Andrew, Bramber and their lives. This is partly achieved through the intercession is Ewa’s stories, which tell of sinister other-worlds in which women fall in love with beggars, alchemists steal time, aunts turn out to be faeries and artists live under harsh theological laws. Threads of glamour, artifice, bewitchment and folktale run through them, which combine with the novel’s fixation on dolls to beg questions about reality, power and passion. These unsettling ideas seep out into the interstices of Andrew and Bramber’s story so that their world - our world? - also seems strange and treacherous. This combination of reality and unreality, the constant shifting of the goal posts of the truth and the imagined is familiar to anyone who has read The Race or The Rift. There is a quality of hallucination to all of Allan’s novels, which constantly challenges you to reassess exactly what kind of story you are reading.
At the centre of the book is the genre of the quest: Andrew’s journey towards Bramber recalls the Arthurian trials of knights who set out to find their true love. He knows he makes an unlikely Lancelot or Galahad but he pushes on, a fact that makes him both very vulnerable and incredibly brave. There are so many times when the novel wrongfoots you about the outcome of his journey. At times it’s so unnerving you dread him reaching his destination; what will be waiting for him there? But although The Dollmaker is sinister it isn’t cynical. There is a sincerity to it that makes it feel buoyant, a yearning towards love and companionship and the possibility of connection through mutual respect that delivers a beautifully delicate and complex ending. I absolutely loved it.
October 8, 2023
My first thought while writing this review is, how can it possibly be rated at 3.47? I can only imagine that some readers were misled by the title into believing that the story might somehow be cute, or at worst a bit spooky. The blurb, too, does not warn you of just how bizarre parts of this story are. Personally I loved it! I devoured every page of writing. The prose was complex, weird, deliciously dark and, at times, twisted. As a writer myself, Nina Allan is one to learn from.
I loved the mix of first person narration by the main character, letters written by another character, and short stories being read by the M.C. as he journeyed to visit the letter writer for the first time. So clever! Stories within a story, and the way in which the short stories connected with the M.C.’s own life was so well done.
Another aspect I will mention is that you don't really know what time period the novel is set in. At first I found it a little confusing. The M.C.’s voice was old-fashioned, almost Victorian, and yet there were many references to the modern day. However, as I read on, I found this to be an asset because it added to the surreal mood of the tale. For me, this was one of the features that demonstrated how confident the writer is, how she is willing to take a risk and have it pay off. This confusion is intentional, it adds to the world the reader is drawn in to.
The novel explores how it feels to be different, the impact both emotional and physical imperfections have on one’s life and how such people are viewed and treated by wider society. None of this is sentimentally drawn, though, which I admired.
Throughout, I had the sense of being in another world and I did not want it to end. In fact, I will need a short break from reading anything else while I continue to immerse myself in the world of The Dollmaker.
I loved the mix of first person narration by the main character, letters written by another character, and short stories being read by the M.C. as he journeyed to visit the letter writer for the first time. So clever! Stories within a story, and the way in which the short stories connected with the M.C.’s own life was so well done.
Another aspect I will mention is that you don't really know what time period the novel is set in. At first I found it a little confusing. The M.C.’s voice was old-fashioned, almost Victorian, and yet there were many references to the modern day. However, as I read on, I found this to be an asset because it added to the surreal mood of the tale. For me, this was one of the features that demonstrated how confident the writer is, how she is willing to take a risk and have it pay off. This confusion is intentional, it adds to the world the reader is drawn in to.
The novel explores how it feels to be different, the impact both emotional and physical imperfections have on one’s life and how such people are viewed and treated by wider society. None of this is sentimentally drawn, though, which I admired.
Throughout, I had the sense of being in another world and I did not want it to end. In fact, I will need a short break from reading anything else while I continue to immerse myself in the world of The Dollmaker.
December 23, 2018
I received a copy of this book from Netgalley, in exchange for an honest review.
Highly unusual structure, beautifully written - a nice change from the norm!
Okay, I'll be straight with you here. At first, I was bewildered with this book. I didn't know at all what to make of it. Then, all of a sudden, it sank in. I realised how very clever it was, and also how wonderfully elusive (how I love books that don't hand everything to you on a platter, but let you draw your own conclusions). And despite being so clever and elusive, it still managed to be compelling and enjoyable.
Andrew Garvie is a man obsessed with dolls; possibly to an unhealthy degree. He has a penfriend arrangement with Bramber, a girl shut away in an asylum in Cornwall who also adores dolls, and after some time, he decides to travel down to visit her. On the way down, he reads some short stories by an author called Ewa Chaplain, who happens to be Bramber's favourite writer - and he notices that they contain uncanny similarities to his own existence.
The main thing I loved about this book was its whole 'story within a story' vibe, which ironically, was the thing that very nearly threw me off-course to start with, because I wasn't prepared for it. It's a daring thing for an author to do - to get the reader to engage with one character, then suddenly start writing about someone completely different, with no connection whatsoever to the previous character!
However, these 'mini stories' were rich and poetic in their own rights, and served to create a sense of the magical, even as Andrew was doing something as mundane as travelling by train to the south-west.
I also loved the elusiveness of the characters. Was Andrew unhinged, or just someone who focused all his admiration and attention on dolls (and people who liked them)? If he was mentally damaged in some way, was it surprising, given his past? I like that the author didn't just feed the answers here - she left it up to the reader to decide.
On a more personal note, as someone who lives in Exeter, it was nice to see the home-town mentioned in such rich, vivid detail - I'm presuming the author knows the area well!
Overall, it was a gorgeous piece of speculative fiction and I really enjoyed it. Definitely one to add to your reading pile, folks.
Highly unusual structure, beautifully written - a nice change from the norm!
Okay, I'll be straight with you here. At first, I was bewildered with this book. I didn't know at all what to make of it. Then, all of a sudden, it sank in. I realised how very clever it was, and also how wonderfully elusive (how I love books that don't hand everything to you on a platter, but let you draw your own conclusions). And despite being so clever and elusive, it still managed to be compelling and enjoyable.
Andrew Garvie is a man obsessed with dolls; possibly to an unhealthy degree. He has a penfriend arrangement with Bramber, a girl shut away in an asylum in Cornwall who also adores dolls, and after some time, he decides to travel down to visit her. On the way down, he reads some short stories by an author called Ewa Chaplain, who happens to be Bramber's favourite writer - and he notices that they contain uncanny similarities to his own existence.
The main thing I loved about this book was its whole 'story within a story' vibe, which ironically, was the thing that very nearly threw me off-course to start with, because I wasn't prepared for it. It's a daring thing for an author to do - to get the reader to engage with one character, then suddenly start writing about someone completely different, with no connection whatsoever to the previous character!
However, these 'mini stories' were rich and poetic in their own rights, and served to create a sense of the magical, even as Andrew was doing something as mundane as travelling by train to the south-west.
I also loved the elusiveness of the characters. Was Andrew unhinged, or just someone who focused all his admiration and attention on dolls (and people who liked them)? If he was mentally damaged in some way, was it surprising, given his past? I like that the author didn't just feed the answers here - she left it up to the reader to decide.
On a more personal note, as someone who lives in Exeter, it was nice to see the home-town mentioned in such rich, vivid detail - I'm presuming the author knows the area well!
Overall, it was a gorgeous piece of speculative fiction and I really enjoyed it. Definitely one to add to your reading pile, folks.
December 19, 2019
"Like if there was another version of reality right next to ours, a version of the world in which the quarry never closed down, and so the trains kept on running. And maybe sometimes people in our world can hear them, the way you can sometimes hear people talking through the walls in the house next door."
No book is perfect since perfection doesn't exist. But there are books that would almost deserve this praise, because you don't only love them despite their flaws, you literally cannot think of any flaw or any better way this book could have been written. That's how The Dollmaker makes it in my top 10 books released in 2019. First, I'd like to thank my goodreads friend Amalia, because this is the second book in said top 10 that I found out through her amazing taste in books.
I remember when I was a child and I went to my grandparent's house for Summer. My grandmother's collection of porcelain dolls was amazing to me. I might be one of the few children who loved them instead of being scared. It's true that dolls have great potential for dark and scary stories, we can just look at how much it's been represented in horror books and movies. But I loved them, I gave them names and I even had my favorite who was my best friend. I was sad to leave her every time, but felt special because I was allowed to hold her in my arms (not everyone is allowed to touch a precious and very fragile collection, especially not a child).
The structure of this book is original and works very well with the story. It almost feels like pieces of different stories put together to create this story. Andrew Garvie, fascinated and in love with dolls, is our main character, but the narrative is being cut by the letters from Bramber Winters, and the stories of Ewa Chaplin. But everything fit together perfectly and makes a powerful, dark, gripping book that left me wondering once more what I could possibly say about it that hasn't already been told, how I could describe the feelings of this book and how it stays with you even after you put it back in your bookshelf.
Nina Allan managed to write three characters that are unique and for whom you feel. Andrew, the dollmaker. Bramber, resident in a psychiatric hospital, who shares his love for dolls. Ewa, Bramber's favorite author, who's also a dollmaker. They all have their unique personality, their unique traits, their own journey until the books starts - but as Andrew reads Ewa's stories, he can't help but compare them to his own life. Ewa's fairytales are so interesting, full of mysteries and captivating. I loved the symbolism in this book, not only of the doll even though it's the most obvious. The prose is beautiful and the atmosphere perfect. Is it historical fiction like I shelved it? Or magical realism? Or gothic fantasy? I don't know, and to be honest, I don't care. It's beautiful, magical and haunting, no matter the genre.
This book won't be to everyone's taste, because of the structure or because it's too dark for some readers, but if you're able to immerse yourself in this book, you won't forget it anytime soon.
No book is perfect since perfection doesn't exist. But there are books that would almost deserve this praise, because you don't only love them despite their flaws, you literally cannot think of any flaw or any better way this book could have been written. That's how The Dollmaker makes it in my top 10 books released in 2019. First, I'd like to thank my goodreads friend Amalia, because this is the second book in said top 10 that I found out through her amazing taste in books.
I remember when I was a child and I went to my grandparent's house for Summer. My grandmother's collection of porcelain dolls was amazing to me. I might be one of the few children who loved them instead of being scared. It's true that dolls have great potential for dark and scary stories, we can just look at how much it's been represented in horror books and movies. But I loved them, I gave them names and I even had my favorite who was my best friend. I was sad to leave her every time, but felt special because I was allowed to hold her in my arms (not everyone is allowed to touch a precious and very fragile collection, especially not a child).
The structure of this book is original and works very well with the story. It almost feels like pieces of different stories put together to create this story. Andrew Garvie, fascinated and in love with dolls, is our main character, but the narrative is being cut by the letters from Bramber Winters, and the stories of Ewa Chaplin. But everything fit together perfectly and makes a powerful, dark, gripping book that left me wondering once more what I could possibly say about it that hasn't already been told, how I could describe the feelings of this book and how it stays with you even after you put it back in your bookshelf.
Nina Allan managed to write three characters that are unique and for whom you feel. Andrew, the dollmaker. Bramber, resident in a psychiatric hospital, who shares his love for dolls. Ewa, Bramber's favorite author, who's also a dollmaker. They all have their unique personality, their unique traits, their own journey until the books starts - but as Andrew reads Ewa's stories, he can't help but compare them to his own life. Ewa's fairytales are so interesting, full of mysteries and captivating. I loved the symbolism in this book, not only of the doll even though it's the most obvious. The prose is beautiful and the atmosphere perfect. Is it historical fiction like I shelved it? Or magical realism? Or gothic fantasy? I don't know, and to be honest, I don't care. It's beautiful, magical and haunting, no matter the genre.
This book won't be to everyone's taste, because of the structure or because it's too dark for some readers, but if you're able to immerse yourself in this book, you won't forget it anytime soon.
June 14, 2019
Originally posted on The Nerd Daily | Review by Carolyn Percy
9 / 10
Andrew Garvie has loved collecting antique dolls since he was a child, so much so that he now makes his own. Dolls that are very much like him, miniature (Andrew has proportionate dwarfism) but graceful, with plenty of hidden depths. One day, he answers an enigmatic personal ad in his collector’s magazine: “INFORMATION (biographical / bibliographical / photographic) on the life and work of EWA CHAPLIN AND/OR friendship, correspondence… Please reply to: Bramber Winters.”
With each letter, Bramber reveals more of her strange life in an institution on Bodmin Moor and Andrew falls more and more in love, to the point where he decides to play Sir Galahad and rescue her. He takes with him on this journey a copy of Ewa Chaplin’s fairy tales: strange, potent things, like her dolls, that eerily start to mirror reality. What will happen when Andrew and Bramber finally meet? Will they remain empty vessels, like their dolls, or will they finally come to life?
Nina Allan is known primarily for her speculative fiction – her debut, The Race, won the Grand Prix de L’imaginaire and her second novel, The Rift, won the British Science Fiction Award and the Kitschies Red Tentacle, as well as short fiction that has been shortlisted for the Hugo Award, the Shirley Jackson Award. and the British Fantasy Award. However, The Dollmaker isn’t as much of a departure as it may first appear. Both previous titles are characterised by narratives that span time and space and themes that question the nature of reality. The Dollmaker is described as “a love story about becoming real” and, though it appears to be literary, the short stories apparently having little to do with the main narrative. It uses the stories, and the motif of dolls themselves, to explore the idea of how reality is created (or, as it is put in the book, the “metaphysics of physics”).
The question of parallel realities and universes is posed. Both Andrew and Bramber are familiar with the feeling of belonging to a different world – Andrew because of his stature and Bramber because of her social awkwardness and, later, because of her surroundings in the mental institution. One character – Edwin, Bramber’s first love – even mentions a link between ghosts and parallel universes – that what we see as ghosts could just be echoes of other realities. So how are they created? Through objects? There is mention of the link between dolls and the human form and the beliefs surrounding this – the uncanny influence they seem to exert, tales of possessed dolls and the idea that by harming a doll made in someone’s image, you do harm to the person, echoed when Bramber destroys her doll that looks like her friend Helen for example, or when Andrew comes across a Ewa Chaplin doll, known as “Artist”, whose spell he seems to fall under.
Are they created through storytelling? Chaplin’s fairy tales are sandwiched between Andrew’s journey and Bramber’s letters, perfect self-contained set-pieces that encompass everything from the contemporary to the fantastical. There are a number of recurring motifs: firstly, dwarfs – court dwarfs especially, who were used by the monarchs of Europe to visually enhance their powerful positions and cater to the aristocracy’s fascination for anything “grotesque�� and/or extraordinary – and their allusions to mythology and magic, particularly in the form of a poem about a dwarf who fell in love with and ended up murdering his queen (possible hints/foreshadows of a possible outcome for the relationship between Andrew and Bramber) and so there is a dwarf or dwarf-like character (a soldier who has lost both his legs, for example) in every story, who always act as agents of change.
Another recurring motif is transformative acts of creation: storytelling, alchemy, make up artistry, science, philosophy, journalism, painting and, of course, doll making. As he reads, Andrew begins to notice more and more characters and details that mirror his own life, the woman he fell in love with who went on to disappear without a trace, for instance, or the daughter of his best friend who’s a musical prodigy but seems to have trouble behaving or communicating in a manner considered normal. Even a particular story itself, ‘Amber Furness’ – another story about unrequited love between a woman and a dwarf, seems to take on a life of its own, mentioned in the main narrative as well as in other stories in the form of a play.
Or do we simply make reality by existing through it? As Edwin also reminds us, “time is a human construct” – things, people, memories can become more or less real. Because Andrew is just passing through the places he stays in they have a sense of unreality about them. He has never met Bramber in person before but has already managed to construct a “real” person from her letters.
The pace is thoughtful and measured, moving much more smoothly once you become used to the different narratives, building to an ending that is atmospheric but doesn’t seem to provide definitive answers for the questions posed. But whilst some may struggle with its slow start or its ambiguity of its ending, for those who can get past this they’ll find The Dollmaker is a book that lingers on in the mind long after finishing it, much like the tales of Chaplin herself.
9 / 10
Andrew Garvie has loved collecting antique dolls since he was a child, so much so that he now makes his own. Dolls that are very much like him, miniature (Andrew has proportionate dwarfism) but graceful, with plenty of hidden depths. One day, he answers an enigmatic personal ad in his collector’s magazine: “INFORMATION (biographical / bibliographical / photographic) on the life and work of EWA CHAPLIN AND/OR friendship, correspondence… Please reply to: Bramber Winters.”
With each letter, Bramber reveals more of her strange life in an institution on Bodmin Moor and Andrew falls more and more in love, to the point where he decides to play Sir Galahad and rescue her. He takes with him on this journey a copy of Ewa Chaplin’s fairy tales: strange, potent things, like her dolls, that eerily start to mirror reality. What will happen when Andrew and Bramber finally meet? Will they remain empty vessels, like their dolls, or will they finally come to life?
Nina Allan is known primarily for her speculative fiction – her debut, The Race, won the Grand Prix de L’imaginaire and her second novel, The Rift, won the British Science Fiction Award and the Kitschies Red Tentacle, as well as short fiction that has been shortlisted for the Hugo Award, the Shirley Jackson Award. and the British Fantasy Award. However, The Dollmaker isn’t as much of a departure as it may first appear. Both previous titles are characterised by narratives that span time and space and themes that question the nature of reality. The Dollmaker is described as “a love story about becoming real” and, though it appears to be literary, the short stories apparently having little to do with the main narrative. It uses the stories, and the motif of dolls themselves, to explore the idea of how reality is created (or, as it is put in the book, the “metaphysics of physics”).
The question of parallel realities and universes is posed. Both Andrew and Bramber are familiar with the feeling of belonging to a different world – Andrew because of his stature and Bramber because of her social awkwardness and, later, because of her surroundings in the mental institution. One character – Edwin, Bramber’s first love – even mentions a link between ghosts and parallel universes – that what we see as ghosts could just be echoes of other realities. So how are they created? Through objects? There is mention of the link between dolls and the human form and the beliefs surrounding this – the uncanny influence they seem to exert, tales of possessed dolls and the idea that by harming a doll made in someone’s image, you do harm to the person, echoed when Bramber destroys her doll that looks like her friend Helen for example, or when Andrew comes across a Ewa Chaplin doll, known as “Artist”, whose spell he seems to fall under.
Are they created through storytelling? Chaplin’s fairy tales are sandwiched between Andrew’s journey and Bramber’s letters, perfect self-contained set-pieces that encompass everything from the contemporary to the fantastical. There are a number of recurring motifs: firstly, dwarfs – court dwarfs especially, who were used by the monarchs of Europe to visually enhance their powerful positions and cater to the aristocracy’s fascination for anything “grotesque�� and/or extraordinary – and their allusions to mythology and magic, particularly in the form of a poem about a dwarf who fell in love with and ended up murdering his queen (possible hints/foreshadows of a possible outcome for the relationship between Andrew and Bramber) and so there is a dwarf or dwarf-like character (a soldier who has lost both his legs, for example) in every story, who always act as agents of change.
Another recurring motif is transformative acts of creation: storytelling, alchemy, make up artistry, science, philosophy, journalism, painting and, of course, doll making. As he reads, Andrew begins to notice more and more characters and details that mirror his own life, the woman he fell in love with who went on to disappear without a trace, for instance, or the daughter of his best friend who’s a musical prodigy but seems to have trouble behaving or communicating in a manner considered normal. Even a particular story itself, ‘Amber Furness’ – another story about unrequited love between a woman and a dwarf, seems to take on a life of its own, mentioned in the main narrative as well as in other stories in the form of a play.
Or do we simply make reality by existing through it? As Edwin also reminds us, “time is a human construct” – things, people, memories can become more or less real. Because Andrew is just passing through the places he stays in they have a sense of unreality about them. He has never met Bramber in person before but has already managed to construct a “real” person from her letters.
The pace is thoughtful and measured, moving much more smoothly once you become used to the different narratives, building to an ending that is atmospheric but doesn’t seem to provide definitive answers for the questions posed. But whilst some may struggle with its slow start or its ambiguity of its ending, for those who can get past this they’ll find The Dollmaker is a book that lingers on in the mind long after finishing it, much like the tales of Chaplin herself.
March 23, 2019
I had never read any of Nina Allan’s books, but when I saw The Dollmaker on Twitter, there was just something about the cover that spoke to me, something in the blurb that drew me in, so I dashed to NetGalley and requested it. When I was approved I was over the moon! Then I started reading it, and to be perfectly honest: I thought I’d made a mistake in requesting The Dollmaker, that maybe it wasn’t one for me. But me being me, I decided not to count my chickens before they hatched and give it a fair try. Suddenly I looked up, 200 pages in, wondering where Sunday afternoon had gone to, and why on earth I’d had such reservations! In hindsight, I think I needed some time to get used to the writing style and to make sense of the story’s make-up.
The tale is threefold: it alternates between Andrew, Bramber and various short stories from the hand of Ewa Chaplin. We first meet Andrew when he’s a young boy encountering his first doll. Just like that, a passion is born and before long Andrew starts making dolls himself. Then we meet Bramber, a woman with a bit of a chequered past, who lives in a remote mansion in a remote area and puts out an ad to which Andrew responds and so they start communicating by letter. Andrew falls head over heels for Bramber and decides he has to meet her, save her, so from then on we follow Andrew on his journey to Bramber, whom we get to know through her letters to Andrew. While Andrew is on the road, he reads some enthralling short stories, little mini thrillers with murder and magic in them. I have to say, that first story confused me a little, what was it doing there?! Although the short stories are mentioned in the blurb I had thought they would be mentioned in passing throughout the book, not that there would be entire stories. However, I ended up positively adoring Ewa’s stories. I loved how they featured dwarfs and were linked to Andrew in that way because he has dwarfism himself. I found myself looking forward to another one whenever the narrative focussed on Andrew and Bramber for more than a few chapters. Although I also enjoyed those parts, mind; during the short stories I found myself wondering what would happen when Andrew finally met Bramber in real life, what would she make of him and his small stature and I was always eager to find out more about the enigmatic woman herself. I do feel the short stories might be a little too long for some readers: they really break up the Andrew-Bramber storyline and I think it might get confusing or annoying if you can only read a few pages at a time. But if you do like I did and read half the book in one sitting, you’ll have no problems with that!
I’m so happy I didn’t DNF this after the first chapters! I ended up thoroughly enjoying both the writing style and the narrative and if you like quirky tales that are just a little bit different from everything else, then you should definitely check this one out!
Many thanks to the author, the publisher and NetGalley for the free e-ARC. All opinions are my own and I was not paid to give them
The tale is threefold: it alternates between Andrew, Bramber and various short stories from the hand of Ewa Chaplin. We first meet Andrew when he’s a young boy encountering his first doll. Just like that, a passion is born and before long Andrew starts making dolls himself. Then we meet Bramber, a woman with a bit of a chequered past, who lives in a remote mansion in a remote area and puts out an ad to which Andrew responds and so they start communicating by letter. Andrew falls head over heels for Bramber and decides he has to meet her, save her, so from then on we follow Andrew on his journey to Bramber, whom we get to know through her letters to Andrew. While Andrew is on the road, he reads some enthralling short stories, little mini thrillers with murder and magic in them. I have to say, that first story confused me a little, what was it doing there?! Although the short stories are mentioned in the blurb I had thought they would be mentioned in passing throughout the book, not that there would be entire stories. However, I ended up positively adoring Ewa’s stories. I loved how they featured dwarfs and were linked to Andrew in that way because he has dwarfism himself. I found myself looking forward to another one whenever the narrative focussed on Andrew and Bramber for more than a few chapters. Although I also enjoyed those parts, mind; during the short stories I found myself wondering what would happen when Andrew finally met Bramber in real life, what would she make of him and his small stature and I was always eager to find out more about the enigmatic woman herself. I do feel the short stories might be a little too long for some readers: they really break up the Andrew-Bramber storyline and I think it might get confusing or annoying if you can only read a few pages at a time. But if you do like I did and read half the book in one sitting, you’ll have no problems with that!
I’m so happy I didn’t DNF this after the first chapters! I ended up thoroughly enjoying both the writing style and the narrative and if you like quirky tales that are just a little bit different from everything else, then you should definitely check this one out!
Many thanks to the author, the publisher and NetGalley for the free e-ARC. All opinions are my own and I was not paid to give them
April 8, 2019
I read this book courtesy of NetGalley and the publisher, in exchange for a review. My opinions are my own.
I discovered Nina Allan slightly more than a year ago, and I fell in love with her writing in The Rift and The Race; they were some of my favourite novels read last year, so I was beyond excited to get ahold of her newest novel, The Dollmaker, even though the description didn't really appeal to my taste. And really, the novel was both what I love about Allan's writing and what made me wary in the description; the rating of 3.5 stars that I wish I could leave is the reflection of that.
What I loved about Allan's two previous novels and what was realised beautifully here was the way in which the relationship between the frame and the embedded stories is undermined. The characters tell stories about themselves and about the world, and these stories contain further stories. The relationship between fiction and fiction-within-fiction is uncertain and complex; the reader is never sure if the world described is one of the historical past or the present or a fantastical world. There's an effect of disorientation at times; if I interrupted reading in the middle of a chapter, upon returning to the book, I would often find it difficult to find my bearings again, and it was amazing.
The book is also very beautifully written and engrossing, and its characters are as fascinating as the mysteries they slowly reveal.
What didn't quite work for me was the aspect of disability. While this story is essentially about and against oppression and prejudice, I found it occasionally difficult to get through the ablist thoughts of characters and disturbing images the book evoked (particularly with regard to children). I am not entirely convinced that the book succeeds in what it wants to accomplish there, and I found its pessimism almost misanthropic - and that's something I don't really like in fiction.
And my second complaint, predictably, concerns the use of Polish names in the book...
Nonetheless, I found this book extremely interesting and thought-provoking, and I can't wait to read more from this author. I love her voice and her vision.
I discovered Nina Allan slightly more than a year ago, and I fell in love with her writing in The Rift and The Race; they were some of my favourite novels read last year, so I was beyond excited to get ahold of her newest novel, The Dollmaker, even though the description didn't really appeal to my taste. And really, the novel was both what I love about Allan's writing and what made me wary in the description; the rating of 3.5 stars that I wish I could leave is the reflection of that.
What I loved about Allan's two previous novels and what was realised beautifully here was the way in which the relationship between the frame and the embedded stories is undermined. The characters tell stories about themselves and about the world, and these stories contain further stories. The relationship between fiction and fiction-within-fiction is uncertain and complex; the reader is never sure if the world described is one of the historical past or the present or a fantastical world. There's an effect of disorientation at times; if I interrupted reading in the middle of a chapter, upon returning to the book, I would often find it difficult to find my bearings again, and it was amazing.
The book is also very beautifully written and engrossing, and its characters are as fascinating as the mysteries they slowly reveal.
What didn't quite work for me was the aspect of disability. While this story is essentially about and against oppression and prejudice, I found it occasionally difficult to get through the ablist thoughts of characters and disturbing images the book evoked (particularly with regard to children). I am not entirely convinced that the book succeeds in what it wants to accomplish there, and I found its pessimism almost misanthropic - and that's something I don't really like in fiction.
And my second complaint, predictably, concerns the use of Polish names in the book...
Nonetheless, I found this book extremely interesting and thought-provoking, and I can't wait to read more from this author. I love her voice and her vision.
March 25, 2019
After turning the last page of this novel I had no idea what to think. The first thought that popped into my mind was: ‘What did I just read?’ I wasn’t able to state if I liked or disliked this story. Even now days later it is quite hard to have coherent thoughts about The Dollmaker. While reading, my husband asked a couple of times what my book was about and I couldn’t even give a decent synopsis. I just kept saying: “I am not quite sure.”
And honestly I think that is the best judgement that I can give of this story. I am not quite sure what the point of this story is, but I actually enjoyed reading it. I am going to try to be a little more cohesive in this review.
The unusual structure of the book is without any doubt the strongest selling point of The Dollmaker. We follow Andrew on his journey across England to meet up with his pen pal Bramber. But we also follow Bramber, through her letters written to Andrew. And as an extra we have a series of stories within the story. These chapters are stories written by de fictional dollmaker Ewa Chaplin, a book that Andrew is reading on his journey.
The dark fairy tales of Ewa Chaplin are the true strength of the book. They are eerie, dark and interesting. Apart from that they serve a double purpose. When Andrew reads these fairy tales he sees them mirroring his own life and that of the people he meets and knows. The parallels between Andrews real life and the stories really took the story to the next level and gave the reader a deeper look into his private life.
What personally irritated me throughout the book was the fact that it was all fiction. Before you start rolling your eyes let me explain. Throughout the book there is constant talk about doll museums, doll exhibitions, doll artist and books about antique dolls. I am the kind of reader who starts to google while reading because I want to see what the author is referring to. Well… she was referring to fictional musea, fictional books and fictional artist. And honestly I am not quite sure why, because it only took me about 5 minutes to find real doll musea, real doll books and real doll artists.
Apart from that the story was just all in all not really engaging. I understand the author tried to write a magical realism story, but for me it failed. The story wasn’t engaging. It didn’t draw you in as a reader. It is dark and with a somber tone, which could have work brilliantly as an atmosphere creator. It was all too vague with no real plot and no real plot point.
The dollmaker could have been an enchanting, dark, magical story, but it just never really takes off. It is well written and the format is interesting. But the overall story is just really lacking. A shame because it could have been a wonderful reading experience.
*arc kindly provided by netgalley and the publisher*
And honestly I think that is the best judgement that I can give of this story. I am not quite sure what the point of this story is, but I actually enjoyed reading it. I am going to try to be a little more cohesive in this review.
The unusual structure of the book is without any doubt the strongest selling point of The Dollmaker. We follow Andrew on his journey across England to meet up with his pen pal Bramber. But we also follow Bramber, through her letters written to Andrew. And as an extra we have a series of stories within the story. These chapters are stories written by de fictional dollmaker Ewa Chaplin, a book that Andrew is reading on his journey.
The dark fairy tales of Ewa Chaplin are the true strength of the book. They are eerie, dark and interesting. Apart from that they serve a double purpose. When Andrew reads these fairy tales he sees them mirroring his own life and that of the people he meets and knows. The parallels between Andrews real life and the stories really took the story to the next level and gave the reader a deeper look into his private life.
What personally irritated me throughout the book was the fact that it was all fiction. Before you start rolling your eyes let me explain. Throughout the book there is constant talk about doll museums, doll exhibitions, doll artist and books about antique dolls. I am the kind of reader who starts to google while reading because I want to see what the author is referring to. Well… she was referring to fictional musea, fictional books and fictional artist. And honestly I am not quite sure why, because it only took me about 5 minutes to find real doll musea, real doll books and real doll artists.
Apart from that the story was just all in all not really engaging. I understand the author tried to write a magical realism story, but for me it failed. The story wasn’t engaging. It didn’t draw you in as a reader. It is dark and with a somber tone, which could have work brilliantly as an atmosphere creator. It was all too vague with no real plot and no real plot point.
The dollmaker could have been an enchanting, dark, magical story, but it just never really takes off. It is well written and the format is interesting. But the overall story is just really lacking. A shame because it could have been a wonderful reading experience.
*arc kindly provided by netgalley and the publisher*
April 18, 2019
I received an e-copy of this book from the publisher via NetGalley for review purposes. Thank you!
Nina Allen’s The Dollmaker is a strange novel. It contains a jumble of elements: a boy, then a man, interested in making dolls, his long-distance friendship with a mysterious woman, conducted by the means of letters, short stories written by a (purportedly) Polish refugee, concerned with strange events, dolls and dwarfs, and the way fiction and “real life” permeate each other.
There are many pieces to this puzzle, and many of them are interesting and engaging on their own, but on the whole, it doesn’t all quite come together. Sometimes it feels a little like an A.S.Byatt novel (and I love A.S. Byatt). Sometimes it feels like Jostein Gaarder. It can be captivating and fascinating, but it doesn’t quite work.
I am especially perplexed by the supposed Polish writer and her short stories. Why make her Polish (Polish Jewish) if the stories don’t really have much to do with Poland? The names used in the stories especially are such a weird mix of kinda-Polish, kinda-maybe-Jewish, kinda-maybe-German, and then just plain made up. And okay, a lot of them have a fairytale-like quality, maybe the names aren’t supposed to be genuine: but on the other hand, there is an introduction to the stories written by a contemporary Polish scholar called “Krystina Lodz” and… nope. First, “Krystyna”. Second - “Lodz”, seriously? There are thousands of last names in Polish that don’t contain any diacritics and would sound much less fake. Would it really be that difficult to find a Polish-speaking person to look through these parts of the book?
On the whole, it was an interesting reading experience, but (as you can see above) fairly frustrating.And even though I cannot wholly recommend this book, I’m very interested in what Allen writes next.
Nina Allen’s The Dollmaker is a strange novel. It contains a jumble of elements: a boy, then a man, interested in making dolls, his long-distance friendship with a mysterious woman, conducted by the means of letters, short stories written by a (purportedly) Polish refugee, concerned with strange events, dolls and dwarfs, and the way fiction and “real life” permeate each other.
There are many pieces to this puzzle, and many of them are interesting and engaging on their own, but on the whole, it doesn’t all quite come together. Sometimes it feels a little like an A.S.Byatt novel (and I love A.S. Byatt). Sometimes it feels like Jostein Gaarder. It can be captivating and fascinating, but it doesn’t quite work.
I am especially perplexed by the supposed Polish writer and her short stories. Why make her Polish (Polish Jewish) if the stories don’t really have much to do with Poland? The names used in the stories especially are such a weird mix of kinda-Polish, kinda-maybe-Jewish, kinda-maybe-German, and then just plain made up. And okay, a lot of them have a fairytale-like quality, maybe the names aren’t supposed to be genuine: but on the other hand, there is an introduction to the stories written by a contemporary Polish scholar called “Krystina Lodz” and… nope. First, “Krystyna”. Second - “Lodz”, seriously? There are thousands of last names in Polish that don’t contain any diacritics and would sound much less fake. Would it really be that difficult to find a Polish-speaking person to look through these parts of the book?
On the whole, it was an interesting reading experience, but (as you can see above) fairly frustrating.And even though I cannot wholly recommend this book, I’m very interested in what Allen writes next.
February 27, 2019
This is probably a book you either love or hate, since it's definitely off the beaten path and takes a bit of getting used to. I highly recommend perseverance!
Ever since childhood, Andrew has been fascinated with dolls. Later in life he becomes a collector and dollmaker himself. Through an ad in a collector's magazine he gets in touch with Bramber, who is looking for information on Ewa, a dollmaker from the past. They start a snailmail correspondence in which we get to know their characters and surroundings. The writing is easy accessible and moves at a good pace.
Ewa, the dollmaker, is also the author of some short stories, which Bramber gifts Andrew. These stories are woven into our main story. This mixing of book, letters and stories can be quite confusing in the beginning, but once you get their connection, the magic starts to appear.
Well over a year into their correspondence, Andrew decides to visit Bramber. He doesn't announce his plan, but instead travels through England stopping at places that have special meaning to him. A fascinating trip filled with delightful artistry and quirky characters.
Throughout the journey Andrew and Bramber keep writing, Ewa keeps telling her stories. All characters compliment each other. Gotta love serendipity!
The conclusion of the story is simply wonderful, as true magic should be.
The Dollmaker grabbed me and wouldn't let go and I loved every minute of it!
Thank you Netgalley and Quercus Books / riverrun for the ARC.
Ever since childhood, Andrew has been fascinated with dolls. Later in life he becomes a collector and dollmaker himself. Through an ad in a collector's magazine he gets in touch with Bramber, who is looking for information on Ewa, a dollmaker from the past. They start a snailmail correspondence in which we get to know their characters and surroundings. The writing is easy accessible and moves at a good pace.
Ewa, the dollmaker, is also the author of some short stories, which Bramber gifts Andrew. These stories are woven into our main story. This mixing of book, letters and stories can be quite confusing in the beginning, but once you get their connection, the magic starts to appear.
Well over a year into their correspondence, Andrew decides to visit Bramber. He doesn't announce his plan, but instead travels through England stopping at places that have special meaning to him. A fascinating trip filled with delightful artistry and quirky characters.
Throughout the journey Andrew and Bramber keep writing, Ewa keeps telling her stories. All characters compliment each other. Gotta love serendipity!
The conclusion of the story is simply wonderful, as true magic should be.
The Dollmaker grabbed me and wouldn't let go and I loved every minute of it!
Thank you Netgalley and Quercus Books / riverrun for the ARC.
Read
May 24, 2020
abandoned
March 14, 2019When I first heard about this book, I was expecting something enchanting, akin to The Toymakers by Robert Dinsdale or The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern, and maybe a dash of The Miniaturist by Jessie Burton.
Maybe there’s more of that later on in the book, but I wouldn’t know. I found the opening chapters to be dull and uninviting, and the interjecting stories within the story bothered me, so I’ve decided to DNF it. Apologies but it wasn’t for me.
The only takeaway I have is an overwhelming nostalgia for the lost art of letter writing.
Thank you to Nina Allen, Quercus, and NetGalley for an arc of this book in exchange for an honest review.
Maybe there’s more of that later on in the book, but I wouldn’t know. I found the opening chapters to be dull and uninviting, and the interjecting stories within the story bothered me, so I’ve decided to DNF it. Apologies but it wasn’t for me.
The only takeaway I have is an overwhelming nostalgia for the lost art of letter writing.
Thank you to Nina Allen, Quercus, and NetGalley for an arc of this book in exchange for an honest review.
April 27, 2019
3.5 stars!
October 17, 2019
A beautiful, yet painful, read, The Dollmaker tells the story of two unique people trying to find their way to each other. Set on Cornwall's moors, this moody, compelling story is interwoven with several short stories; each of which packs a powerful punch on their own. Untangling themes of art, longing, misfits, taking chances, and healing from childhood trauma, Nina Allan writes a tale that both tugs at your heart and satisfies your literary cravings. Bravo!
March 18, 2019
I received this as an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
I have to say that this book has no clear storyline. It messes around between a man's journey across devon - his stays in Wade and Exeter are detailed in excruciating detail - His letters from a fellow"doll" fan which originate in some sort of mental asylum and the totally incomprehensible fairy stories of the supposed Ewa Chaplin. I dont know what the author was trying to achieve but all she has managed is a soup of disparate parts.
This is my first and last Nina Allan book. I find it incomprehensible that it has so many good reviews
I have to say that this book has no clear storyline. It messes around between a man's journey across devon - his stays in Wade and Exeter are detailed in excruciating detail - His letters from a fellow"doll" fan which originate in some sort of mental asylum and the totally incomprehensible fairy stories of the supposed Ewa Chaplin. I dont know what the author was trying to achieve but all she has managed is a soup of disparate parts.
This is my first and last Nina Allan book. I find it incomprehensible that it has so many good reviews
Read
June 17, 2024Objectively, seems well-written. Subjectively, an absolute no from me. DNF @ 9%.
April 7, 2019
My thanks to Quercus Books/riverrun for an eARC via NetGalley of Nina Allan’s third novel, ‘The Dollmaker’, in exchange for an honest review.
Andrew Garvie is a creator of exquisite dolls in the traditional style. He has always been something of an outsider. When he sees an advert in a collector’s magazine seeking information on Polish dollmaker, Eva Chaplin, and/or friendship he answers it. Thus, he and Bramber Winters begin a correspondence. Through these letters she slowly reveals details of her strange, sheltered life in an institution on Bodmin Moor.
The structure of this novel is unusual as Allan interweaves Andrew’s story (including his quixotic plan to rescue Bramber and his journey to meet her), Bramber’s letters, and a series of macabre fairytales written by Ewa Chaplin.
I find myself lost for words to describe the beauty and power of Allan’s writing. It is a work of literary fiction that also confidently blends various genres. I personally didn’t have any difficulty with its complex structure as the different sections are quite distinct. The way that Chaplin’s stories were echoed in the lives of Andrew and Bramber created a dreamlike ambiance throughout.
I was captivated by ‘The Dollmaker’ and it is a novel that I intend to reread in order to explore its multi-layered themes, symbolism, and unique structure at a more leisurely pace. It is a novel that I would expect will be ideal for reading groups that are seeking a novel that is more challenging and yet remains accessible.
I also am intrigued by the descriptions of her earlier novels and story collections and look forward to reading more of her work.
Andrew Garvie is a creator of exquisite dolls in the traditional style. He has always been something of an outsider. When he sees an advert in a collector’s magazine seeking information on Polish dollmaker, Eva Chaplin, and/or friendship he answers it. Thus, he and Bramber Winters begin a correspondence. Through these letters she slowly reveals details of her strange, sheltered life in an institution on Bodmin Moor.
The structure of this novel is unusual as Allan interweaves Andrew’s story (including his quixotic plan to rescue Bramber and his journey to meet her), Bramber’s letters, and a series of macabre fairytales written by Ewa Chaplin.
I find myself lost for words to describe the beauty and power of Allan’s writing. It is a work of literary fiction that also confidently blends various genres. I personally didn’t have any difficulty with its complex structure as the different sections are quite distinct. The way that Chaplin’s stories were echoed in the lives of Andrew and Bramber created a dreamlike ambiance throughout.
I was captivated by ‘The Dollmaker’ and it is a novel that I intend to reread in order to explore its multi-layered themes, symbolism, and unique structure at a more leisurely pace. It is a novel that I would expect will be ideal for reading groups that are seeking a novel that is more challenging and yet remains accessible.
I also am intrigued by the descriptions of her earlier novels and story collections and look forward to reading more of her work.
December 13, 2018
A great deal has been written on dolls. There are voluimes on the history of dolls, the provenance of dolls, the value of dolls, heavy catalogues filled with lavish illustrations, images that quicken the blood and stimulate desire. I have read that the doll is a surrogate: for friendship or for family, for love. Most children grow out of dolls eventually, but not the collector. The true collector, like the poet or the idiot, remains prey to the intensified sensibilities of childhood until the day they die.
Allan's plot revolves around Andrew's finding solace in his dolls and is set in an atmospheric, whimsical and almost terrifying, setting. Although the ending is definitely rewarding and the story unique, the plot could be better and tighter.
This copy was kindly provided to me in exchange for an honest review by the publisher via NetGalley.
January 30, 2019
What made this book stand out for me is its unusual structure. What might have been a love story of fairly limited scope - two people, personally challenged in different ways, corresponding over a shared love of antique dolls and doll-making, followed by Andrew’s slow journey across England to meet up in person - is enhanced by a series of stories within the story. These are the work of a fictional Polish dollmaker of the mid-20th century and uncannily reflect events in Andrew’s own life, underscoring the difficulties he experienced in his early years. I found myself racing through the more modern day story of Andrew and Bramber’s friendship to get to the next of Ewa Chaplin’s stories - so much more intriguing and featuring some really interesting characters, I’d have been glad if there had been more of them. Not at all heavy-going and all rounded off nicely (and not too neatly), I’d be happy to recommend this novel and, on the strength of this one, am tempted to check out Nina Allan’s back catalogue.
With thanks to Quercus via NetGalley for the opportunity of an ARC.
With thanks to Quercus via NetGalley for the opportunity of an ARC.
January 5, 2019
This book was quite frankly bizarre but I thoroughly enjoyed it all the same. Ultimately a love story between two troubled, eccentric characters—it follows their unusual courtship. The narrative is interspersed with short stories that at first through me but I ended up enjoying immensely.
If you enjoy something a bit different from the norm I’d really recommend you give it a try. I will definitely read Nina Allan again.
Thanks to netgalley and the publisher for this copy in exchange for an honest review.
If you enjoy something a bit different from the norm I’d really recommend you give it a try. I will definitely read Nina Allan again.
Thanks to netgalley and the publisher for this copy in exchange for an honest review.
April 8, 2019
I'm grateful to the publisher for an advance e-copy of this book via Netgalley.
I really enjoyed Allan's last two books, The Rift and The Race, and I was eager to read The Dollmaker. Those books were twisty, substantial ostensible science fiction/ fantasy which invited the reader to wonder if what were - on the surface - fantastical stories should simply be taken as such, or whether the weird turns, contradictions and coincidences were (or also were) indicative of ruptured relationships and individuals' breakdowns. The answer wasn't clear, and that, perhaps, was one of the most satisfying things about them.
The Dollmaker presents, I think, the same choice, but from the other side of the genre fence. This is ostensibly a naturalistic, if increasingly odd, story which also acts as a framing narrative to a series of fantastical short stories (described as modern fairy tales) allegedly written by 'Ewa Chaplin' and translated from the Polish. However, the subjects and provenance of those stories seem to be coupled with the themes of the 'real world' story, something Allan's protagonist Andrew Garvie uneasily begins to realise.
Are we dealing with confirmation bias - the characters in The Dollmaker reporting on one book among many they've read that seems to reflect their own lives?
Or is there more?
To explain further, in this book we meet Andrew Garvie, the dollmaker of the title.
We meet him first as a small boy, later a small man. While we're introduced early to this interest in dolls (he is aged eight) and we might expect that to cause him trouble with a traditionalist father and cruel schoolmates, the fact of Andrew's stature and condition is in contrast something that only emerges slowly - indeed part of the unrolling impact of this book is his seeing himself reflected (and traduced, and distorted) in Chaplin's stories. The world 'dwarf' is often used in these, and this is only one of the ways in which the stories, many of them about people marked out - a girl with autism, a soldier who lost his legs in the Great War and, yes, people like Andrew - echo the 'real life' of The Dollmaker.
Garvie has, we learn, answered a personal ad in a dollmaking magazine:
INFORMATION WANTED ON THE LIFE AND WORK OF DOLLMAKER EWA CHAPLIN AND/ OR FRIENDSHIP, CORRESPONDENCE. PLEASE REPLY TO: BRAMBER WINTERS.
He is on his (leisurely) way across southern England to meet Winters at her home in Cornwall. The Dollmaker interleaves Garvie's travels and observations with Chaplin's fantastical stories (a young actress with a wealthy and older husband begins a relationship with a disabled ex soldier; a teacher struggles with her feelings when a gill with autism arrive sin her class; in a near future Britain, a theocracy has banned representations of humans and an artist is publicly tried for blasphemy; a country exists where Fae are as real a menace as rats, and treated in a similar way) and with Winters' letters to him. From them (and it's not clear whether he has received them all, or whether some were sent as he travelled) we learn about her early life. She has been twenty years in a hospital after some incident which (at first) she only uneasily alludes to.
It's clear that Garvie has become - what? Infatuated? Obsessed? - by Winters (again reflecting Chapman's stories). He sees himself as setting out to rescue her in some way, even though it's not clear she wants or needs to be rescued. There seems to be more going on here than a shared love of dolls and Allan teases a bit, drawing out the journey and making it a bit of an epic. Garvie presents as a somewhat old-fashioned character, regretting the turmoil of modern Reading (the English town, not the activity) or the state of architecture in post-war Exeter. Something about the reflections on these places, as well as his visits to lesser known towns off the tourist map and the leisurely nature of his journey (he takes days to do a trip you could surely manage by train in a day?) put me in mind of Kazuo Ishiguro's The Remains of the Day.
Garvie seems to be an unreliable narrator. He certainly is in terms of what he tells Bramber, for example not letting on that he's coming to find her but I sensed that a lot of what he tells us is mysterious or incomplete. What about Ursula's sudden disappearance? Or the twins he mentions several times but never explains? So by the point where - in the last quarter of the book - a single telephone call seems to cast doubt on other aspects of the story too, it almost begins to look as if Chaplin's fairy tales are more solid, more certain than real life itself (despite their themes of alternative universes and the way they trespass on reality). Perhaps this is similar to the way that Garvie sees his (assumed) relationship with Winters as totally real - while being quiet cold and unsympathetic to the very real troubles of his friend Clarence's autistic daughter, Jane.
It's a dense novel (in a good way!) which had me flicking backwards and forwards in my Kindle checking for repetitions, echoes, foreshadowings, for loose strands suddenly appearing in a different context and resolutions to things that seemed to stop midway. I think that in a sense the story here is like one of those 2D or 3D representations of a 4D object, the compression producing odd effects and conjunctions which have their own patterns and rhythms.
An excellent book, one I enjoyed a lot and would strongly recommend.
I really enjoyed Allan's last two books, The Rift and The Race, and I was eager to read The Dollmaker. Those books were twisty, substantial ostensible science fiction/ fantasy which invited the reader to wonder if what were - on the surface - fantastical stories should simply be taken as such, or whether the weird turns, contradictions and coincidences were (or also were) indicative of ruptured relationships and individuals' breakdowns. The answer wasn't clear, and that, perhaps, was one of the most satisfying things about them.
The Dollmaker presents, I think, the same choice, but from the other side of the genre fence. This is ostensibly a naturalistic, if increasingly odd, story which also acts as a framing narrative to a series of fantastical short stories (described as modern fairy tales) allegedly written by 'Ewa Chaplin' and translated from the Polish. However, the subjects and provenance of those stories seem to be coupled with the themes of the 'real world' story, something Allan's protagonist Andrew Garvie uneasily begins to realise.
Are we dealing with confirmation bias - the characters in The Dollmaker reporting on one book among many they've read that seems to reflect their own lives?
Or is there more?
To explain further, in this book we meet Andrew Garvie, the dollmaker of the title.
We meet him first as a small boy, later a small man. While we're introduced early to this interest in dolls (he is aged eight) and we might expect that to cause him trouble with a traditionalist father and cruel schoolmates, the fact of Andrew's stature and condition is in contrast something that only emerges slowly - indeed part of the unrolling impact of this book is his seeing himself reflected (and traduced, and distorted) in Chaplin's stories. The world 'dwarf' is often used in these, and this is only one of the ways in which the stories, many of them about people marked out - a girl with autism, a soldier who lost his legs in the Great War and, yes, people like Andrew - echo the 'real life' of The Dollmaker.
Garvie has, we learn, answered a personal ad in a dollmaking magazine:
INFORMATION WANTED ON THE LIFE AND WORK OF DOLLMAKER EWA CHAPLIN AND/ OR FRIENDSHIP, CORRESPONDENCE. PLEASE REPLY TO: BRAMBER WINTERS.
He is on his (leisurely) way across southern England to meet Winters at her home in Cornwall. The Dollmaker interleaves Garvie's travels and observations with Chaplin's fantastical stories (a young actress with a wealthy and older husband begins a relationship with a disabled ex soldier; a teacher struggles with her feelings when a gill with autism arrive sin her class; in a near future Britain, a theocracy has banned representations of humans and an artist is publicly tried for blasphemy; a country exists where Fae are as real a menace as rats, and treated in a similar way) and with Winters' letters to him. From them (and it's not clear whether he has received them all, or whether some were sent as he travelled) we learn about her early life. She has been twenty years in a hospital after some incident which (at first) she only uneasily alludes to.
It's clear that Garvie has become - what? Infatuated? Obsessed? - by Winters (again reflecting Chapman's stories). He sees himself as setting out to rescue her in some way, even though it's not clear she wants or needs to be rescued. There seems to be more going on here than a shared love of dolls and Allan teases a bit, drawing out the journey and making it a bit of an epic. Garvie presents as a somewhat old-fashioned character, regretting the turmoil of modern Reading (the English town, not the activity) or the state of architecture in post-war Exeter. Something about the reflections on these places, as well as his visits to lesser known towns off the tourist map and the leisurely nature of his journey (he takes days to do a trip you could surely manage by train in a day?) put me in mind of Kazuo Ishiguro's The Remains of the Day.
Garvie seems to be an unreliable narrator. He certainly is in terms of what he tells Bramber, for example not letting on that he's coming to find her but I sensed that a lot of what he tells us is mysterious or incomplete. What about Ursula's sudden disappearance? Or the twins he mentions several times but never explains? So by the point where - in the last quarter of the book - a single telephone call seems to cast doubt on other aspects of the story too, it almost begins to look as if Chaplin's fairy tales are more solid, more certain than real life itself (despite their themes of alternative universes and the way they trespass on reality). Perhaps this is similar to the way that Garvie sees his (assumed) relationship with Winters as totally real - while being quiet cold and unsympathetic to the very real troubles of his friend Clarence's autistic daughter, Jane.
It's a dense novel (in a good way!) which had me flicking backwards and forwards in my Kindle checking for repetitions, echoes, foreshadowings, for loose strands suddenly appearing in a different context and resolutions to things that seemed to stop midway. I think that in a sense the story here is like one of those 2D or 3D representations of a 4D object, the compression producing odd effects and conjunctions which have their own patterns and rhythms.
An excellent book, one I enjoyed a lot and would strongly recommend.
April 13, 2019
The whimsical nature of The Dollmaker was first brought to my attention during an event held by Quercus Books last year where they showcased some of the fiction they were excited to be publishing in 2019. The Dollmaker was one of these books and marketed in such a gorgeous display that not only was it immediately eye-catching but I was instantly intrigued to read the novel. Thank you so much to the publishers for providing me with a complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review.
From the very beginning, The Dollmaker felt like a very "me" book. From the quirky subject matter to the inclusion of fairy-tales and the nods to magical realism, I was incredibly excited to read it, desperately hoping I would be instantly captivated and under the author's spell. Now that I've finished it, I can finally report back with a mixture of both positive and more tentative thoughts that I'll do my best to get across coherently. First of all, I don't think this book is going to be for everyone. Stay with me though because that isn't necessarily a negative statement. Very much like the dolls within the narrative, the story itself is quite disjointed and has a tendency to shift as you're reading it, almost at times like a stream of consciousness.
We see most of the story through the eyes of Andrew and Bramber who have struck up a correspondence and are beginning to feel quite strongly towards each other, sharing their innermost thoughts and feelings through the letters they write and receive. When we begin the novel, we learn about Bramber, who has spent much of her life in an institution for reasons unknown and as she gradually opens up to Andrew, we learn more about the events that led to her present situation. Unknown to Bramber, her correspondent Andrew, who has mastered the fine art of doll-making is on his way to where she is to finally meet her face to face and build on their relationship. Interspersed between their stories and letters are fairy-tales from Ewa Chaplin (also a doll-maker) which Andrew is reading on his journey. However, as the stories continue, there appear to be some strange cross-overs between characters in Chaplin's tales and events in Andrew and Bramber's own lives.I have to say, the fairy-tale aspects of this novel were one of my favourite parts. I didn't enjoy all of them to the same degree but some of them were incredibly dark, delicious and gripping. However, this is also where the difficulty rose for me with this novel. I appreciated the beautiful, unusual style of writing and the clever way in which the author intertwined parts of the fairy-tales with the main narrative. Yet it was only when I read the fairy-tales that I found myself fully invested in the story. Sadly, I didn't feel a connect with either Andrew or Bramber and although I was intrigued to find out what would happen if and when they met face to face, I didn't get as much out of their characters or personalities as I would have liked. Sometimes it felt as if it went off in too many directions for me to catch hold of the thread and unfortunately, I found myself looking forward to the next fairy-tale rather than the story between the two main protagonists.There's no denying that The Dollmaker is a very unique and accomplished read and there are real sparks of magic, suspense and darkness that were wonderful to experience but it was just a shame I couldn't find a connection with the primary characters or their individual stories. Nevertheless, I would still be interested in reading other works by this author on the strength of her storytelling ability.
For my full review and many more, please visit my blog at http://www.bibliobeth.com
From the very beginning, The Dollmaker felt like a very "me" book. From the quirky subject matter to the inclusion of fairy-tales and the nods to magical realism, I was incredibly excited to read it, desperately hoping I would be instantly captivated and under the author's spell. Now that I've finished it, I can finally report back with a mixture of both positive and more tentative thoughts that I'll do my best to get across coherently. First of all, I don't think this book is going to be for everyone. Stay with me though because that isn't necessarily a negative statement. Very much like the dolls within the narrative, the story itself is quite disjointed and has a tendency to shift as you're reading it, almost at times like a stream of consciousness.
We see most of the story through the eyes of Andrew and Bramber who have struck up a correspondence and are beginning to feel quite strongly towards each other, sharing their innermost thoughts and feelings through the letters they write and receive. When we begin the novel, we learn about Bramber, who has spent much of her life in an institution for reasons unknown and as she gradually opens up to Andrew, we learn more about the events that led to her present situation. Unknown to Bramber, her correspondent Andrew, who has mastered the fine art of doll-making is on his way to where she is to finally meet her face to face and build on their relationship. Interspersed between their stories and letters are fairy-tales from Ewa Chaplin (also a doll-maker) which Andrew is reading on his journey. However, as the stories continue, there appear to be some strange cross-overs between characters in Chaplin's tales and events in Andrew and Bramber's own lives.I have to say, the fairy-tale aspects of this novel were one of my favourite parts. I didn't enjoy all of them to the same degree but some of them were incredibly dark, delicious and gripping. However, this is also where the difficulty rose for me with this novel. I appreciated the beautiful, unusual style of writing and the clever way in which the author intertwined parts of the fairy-tales with the main narrative. Yet it was only when I read the fairy-tales that I found myself fully invested in the story. Sadly, I didn't feel a connect with either Andrew or Bramber and although I was intrigued to find out what would happen if and when they met face to face, I didn't get as much out of their characters or personalities as I would have liked. Sometimes it felt as if it went off in too many directions for me to catch hold of the thread and unfortunately, I found myself looking forward to the next fairy-tale rather than the story between the two main protagonists.There's no denying that The Dollmaker is a very unique and accomplished read and there are real sparks of magic, suspense and darkness that were wonderful to experience but it was just a shame I couldn't find a connection with the primary characters or their individual stories. Nevertheless, I would still be interested in reading other works by this author on the strength of her storytelling ability.
For my full review and many more, please visit my blog at http://www.bibliobeth.com
November 15, 2019
The Dollmaker by Nina Allan is the oddest book I have read this year and, quite probably, of any year. Yet, because of this, it is unforgettable. This curious but fiercely original novel will stay with me for some time.
In it we follow Andrew and Bramber, two lonely individuals who have never met, but who quickly develop a love affair via letters as they become penpals following Bramber’s advert in a doll collectors’ magazine. Only it’s not just distance that make the burgeoning relationship of these two doll obsessives complicated – Bramber is institutionalised and hasn’t told Andrew, and, similarly, Andrew has not informed his new ‘queen’ that he was born with proportionate dwarfism.
How will they feel when their secrets are revealed? That is what is at stake when Andrew suddenly undertakes a trip across England to surprise his queen with an unannounced visit.
Yet, if you think this is all that this story has at stake, well, you are in for a hell of a surprise. With a spirit that blends Angela Carter with Margaret Atwood at her darkest, Nina Allan sets this story off kilter, feeding in fables of murderous dwarfs, time manipulators, fairies and changelings. This she does by cutting in supposed short stories from Andrew and Bramber’s favourite writer – Ewa Chaplin, a supposed esteemed dollmaker who also wrote the darkest fantasy stories with powerful themes of love, obsession, disfigurement and revenge.
The question then becomes, how are these two streams in the book tied? To what extent will the themes in Ewa Chaplin’s books shape our unusual protagonists?
I could write pages about this book – the way Nina has crafted the language so that, even though the novel is rooted in contemporary England, this feels like a Grimm Brothers fairy-tale, a little unworldly; the sense of porous walls between the central love affair and the stories written by their shared favourite author – how these dark tales seem to merge with reality until you wonder whether this is coincidence or forewarning. And just that darkness and the strange blend of the gothic and the contemporary. Brilliant and unforgettable.
In it we follow Andrew and Bramber, two lonely individuals who have never met, but who quickly develop a love affair via letters as they become penpals following Bramber’s advert in a doll collectors’ magazine. Only it’s not just distance that make the burgeoning relationship of these two doll obsessives complicated – Bramber is institutionalised and hasn’t told Andrew, and, similarly, Andrew has not informed his new ‘queen’ that he was born with proportionate dwarfism.
How will they feel when their secrets are revealed? That is what is at stake when Andrew suddenly undertakes a trip across England to surprise his queen with an unannounced visit.
Yet, if you think this is all that this story has at stake, well, you are in for a hell of a surprise. With a spirit that blends Angela Carter with Margaret Atwood at her darkest, Nina Allan sets this story off kilter, feeding in fables of murderous dwarfs, time manipulators, fairies and changelings. This she does by cutting in supposed short stories from Andrew and Bramber’s favourite writer – Ewa Chaplin, a supposed esteemed dollmaker who also wrote the darkest fantasy stories with powerful themes of love, obsession, disfigurement and revenge.
The question then becomes, how are these two streams in the book tied? To what extent will the themes in Ewa Chaplin’s books shape our unusual protagonists?
I could write pages about this book – the way Nina has crafted the language so that, even though the novel is rooted in contemporary England, this feels like a Grimm Brothers fairy-tale, a little unworldly; the sense of porous walls between the central love affair and the stories written by their shared favourite author – how these dark tales seem to merge with reality until you wonder whether this is coincidence or forewarning. And just that darkness and the strange blend of the gothic and the contemporary. Brilliant and unforgettable.
June 5, 2020
This novel was simply lovely, and very well-written, too.
I think Allan did something very daring here. She breaks up the bits of novel in which Andrew tells us how he is travelling to Cornwall to see Bramber Winters and the letters of Bramber with the occasional fairy tale. Andrew reads these fairy tales during his travels because they were written by an author Bramber adores, but soon, they start to bear some eerie similarities to his real life. Now, if you stop your novel to tell a fairy tale that an last up to forty pages, that's a bold move. It means your novel bits must be strong enough to make the reader willing to plough through forty pages of something else, and simultaneously those short stories must be strong enough on their own to make it worth the ploughing through and justify the interruption. I think that they did, and if Allan ever publishes all nine tales, I'll certainly read them. My favourite was the one with Aunt Lola.
I also think it was a masterful move to include that excerpt about the dwarf and his queen at the beginning of the story and then weave it into the tale, because it heightened the stakes without the characters being aware of it: repetition signals importance, and since the dwarf kills his queen because he loves her but can't have her, that really made you fear for Bramber and Andrew.
I felt that this novel was very honest in its portrayal of two characters on the outskirts of society (Andrew because he is a little person, and Bramber because she is in some sort of mental facility) looking for love. It's ending was a little more open than I would have liked, and I think that the reason for Bramber being in that mental facility was a little underwhelming (though in real life 100% valid), but I still loved this novel deeply, and I shall be thinking about it a lot.
I think Allan did something very daring here. She breaks up the bits of novel in which Andrew tells us how he is travelling to Cornwall to see Bramber Winters and the letters of Bramber with the occasional fairy tale. Andrew reads these fairy tales during his travels because they were written by an author Bramber adores, but soon, they start to bear some eerie similarities to his real life. Now, if you stop your novel to tell a fairy tale that an last up to forty pages, that's a bold move. It means your novel bits must be strong enough to make the reader willing to plough through forty pages of something else, and simultaneously those short stories must be strong enough on their own to make it worth the ploughing through and justify the interruption. I think that they did, and if Allan ever publishes all nine tales, I'll certainly read them. My favourite was the one with Aunt Lola.
I also think it was a masterful move to include that excerpt about the dwarf and his queen at the beginning of the story and then weave it into the tale, because it heightened the stakes without the characters being aware of it: repetition signals importance, and since the dwarf kills his queen because he loves her but can't have her, that really made you fear for Bramber and Andrew.
I felt that this novel was very honest in its portrayal of two characters on the outskirts of society (Andrew because he is a little person, and Bramber because she is in some sort of mental facility) looking for love. It's ending was a little more open than I would have liked, and I think that the reason for Bramber being in that mental facility was a little underwhelming (though in real life 100% valid), but I still loved this novel deeply, and I shall be thinking about it a lot.
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