Tin Man by Sarah Winman Genres: Adult, Coming of Age, Contemporary Fiction, Fiction, Historical Fiction, LGBTQ+, Romance
Published by G.P. Putnam's Sons on July 27, 2017
Format: eBook
Pages: 224
I’ve read a lot of great and not so great book synopses, but the opening line of Sarah Winman’s Tin Man describes the novel the best: “This is almost a love story. But it’s not as simple as that.” When interpreted at face value, Tin Man‘s story is just that, an emotional story of almost love and the complex relationship between Ellis and Michael. But the theme of love goes far beyond simple romantic love, and that is where this novel incredibly well-executed yet quiet reflections are their strongest. Love for a treasured friend, love for a family member (despite not being blood related), love as caregiver, love as safe haven, or as simple as comforting company. Bittersweet, moving and poignant matched with a gorgeously beautiful prose, Sarah Winman’s Tin Man is a shorter yet wonderful read that I also loved and finished in one day.
And sometimes, when the day loomed grey, I’d sit at my desk and remember the heat of that summer. I’d remember the smells of tuberose that were carried by the wind, and the smell of octopus cooking on stinking griddles. I’d remember the sound of our laughter and the sound of a doughnut seller, and I’d remember the red canvas shoes I lost in the sea, and the taste of pastis and the taste of his skin, and a sky so blue it would defy anything else to be blue again. And I’d remember my love for a man that almost made everything possible.
I honestly don’t have much to say about Tin Man apart from how much I loved it and found it exceptional, but I will try anyway. It’s difficult to review or write about this story as it’s quite meandering in its approach. Divided into two sections, one devoted to Ellis and the other Michael, the novel encompasses their childhood meeting, the growth in their relationship, and their separate walks through life and connections to each other, culminating in the summer of 1991. However that’s not all there is to it. Ellis’s perspective starts five years after that in 1996, alone without Michael and Annie while walking through life without purpose or emotion. The less that’s known about the story the better the reading experience, but I thought it important to mention Ellis’s isolation to highlight how excellent Winman portrays it. The emptiness, loneliness, and directionless feeling is written so beautifully quiet, yet is still captivating to read. As Ellis reflects on his life, often out of chronological order, the reader is given vignettes to his connections with Michael and Annie.
While Ellis’s perspective is already emotionally moving, the shift to Michael’s story at the halfway mark is where Winman’s writing hits even harder. Presented in the form of Michael’s writings (which is not a typical journal), there’s a clear distinctive shift in character voice, tone, and direction appropriately suiting how different he is from Ellis. The different form of presentation works perfectly, with Michael’s writing filling in his years missing from Ellis’s perspective as well as his reflections of earlier events already shown. Like Ellis’s story, the content is deeply emotional yet beautifully written. This half of the story reminded me a lot of Tell the Wolves I’m Home‘s content material, without the YA angst associated with its main character. The two perspectives eventually converge in the summer of 1991, delivering a satisfying yet utterly heartbreaking conclusion, not to mention the epilogue-style resolution when the story returns to Ellis in 1996.
Consistent throughout the entire novel is Winman’s wonderfully beautiful prose that’s thoughtful and purposefully reserved, letting the complexity of the characters’ feelings to carry the story. While full of metaphors that are obviously well done (I was constantly highlighting passages in the ebook copy), what I particularly loved was how much is left unsaid. Heavy emotional outbursts or explicit descriptions of feelings are limited, which make them feel more believable and grounded.
And I wonder what the sound of a heart breaking might be. And I think it might be quiet, unperceptively so, and not dramatic at all. Like the sound of an exhausted swallow falling gently to earth.
Her thoughtful exploration and portrayal of queer relationships of the time (or frankly even today in UK) feel spot-on, and the wistful reflection for both parties is heartbreaking. Despite what you would think based on the synopsis, Ellis and Annie’s relationship is also well-developed and nuanced. But some of the best content and forms of love is left for Mabel, the supportive rock and home when all seems lost, and Ellis’s mother Dorra. Yet despite the heavy content, Winman doesn’t wallow in the sadness but instead channels that an almost hopeful or inspirational lasting impression. Apart from making me feel incredibly lonely when I finished the story, it inspires you to go out and cherish all of your loved ones while you still can, rather than regrettably letting life and years go.
Featuring exceptional character work paired with beautiful writing, this is a quick read and solid recommendation for those looking for a dramatic emotional character story. The coming of age element and shared summer time memories in Paris even invokes the same feeling as the more well-known Call Me By Your Name but without some of its more questionable plot elements, clunky execution, and stilted character work. I was originally interested in Sarah Winman’s more recent novel Still Life but decided to pick up Tin Man first based on a book influencer recommendation and due to its shorter length (I want to be in the right headspace and a less crunched workload to be able to not rush through it). Reading Tin Man only solidified my excitement for Still Life which I will most definitely be reading later sometime this year.