The Motion of Puppets Will Amaze, Surprise, And Horrify You All At Once
The Motion of Puppets, the new novel by Keith Donohue, left me stunned silence. Not because I found the book especially disturbing (though the author’s knack for vivid description will haunt my dreams for days), but because I was wrenched away from an immersive world, and characters I had grown to know. Because this book manages to imbue each of with an undeniable humanity, never mind that they are literal puppets—creatures of papier-mâché, cotton, and wood. Anyone can write a modern retelling of Orpheus, or subvert the wonder and magic of a children’s tale into something bizarre and nightmarish. What sets Donohue apart is how, in between the nightmare-fueling imagery, offbeat comedy, and fairy-tale trappings, he gives his wonderful characters human hearts, despite their artificial bodies.
On a forgotten street in Old Quebec lies a toy shop. In spite of being fully stocked and by all appearances still a going concern, its doors are always closed. Kay Harper, a young acrobat, passes it every day on her way to perform, and each day takes notice of a worn puppet sitting in the window. It’s love at first sight, and so, when she is pursued home one night and seeks refuge in the toy store, she can’t help but remove the puppet out of its glass case. The next morning, her husband Theo awakes to find his wife has vanished. Kay, meanwhile, finds she has been transformed into a puppet, imprisoned and able to move only when the store comes alive between midnight and dawn. As Kay searches for her escape, and Theo tries to find and free his wife, the couple is drawn into an unusual world with its own strange rules and denizens, a place where they may be trapped forever.
Donohue builds a fantasy world rich in both horror and wonder. This is a book that features puppet bacchanalia, a woman with a beehive in her head, and the ghost of an eccentric photographer who “undevelops” rather than vanishes. It sounds too easy to paint all of this as “dreamlike,” but it is—not in the ethereal way that phrase has come to represent, but in the way that dreams feel absolutely real while you’re having them, and then the moment you wake up, they become effervescent, intangible. Every scene feels real and immediate as you read it. But try to explain to someone what you just read, and you’ll realize they’re looking at you like you’ve grown a third head. Such is the power of Keith Donohue.
Trappings of the absurd aside, this is a story grief and loss, and the characters are what sell it. Kay and Theo are compelling leads, but so too is the supporting cast, each of whom is given their moment in the spotlight. The standout is a young girl puppet named Noë, who is slowly driven insane by her inability to escape her artificial body. She provides an excellent counterpoint to Theo’s descent into hallucination through grief, and gives Kay with more reason to escape before she either goes mad, or worse, complacent. Even the supposed villain, the sinister puppet that kicks off the plot, just wants to bring more people into his world, and he seems confused when those turned into puppets don’t want to stay that way. He’s a tragic figure more than an out-and out monster, and his plight colors the ending in melancholy shades.
It’s that air of melancholy that also makes the book so devastating. Make no mistake, The Motion of Puppets isn’t the happiest book on the shelf. But if you’re willing to take a risk, to seek out light and darkness, you will find a lyrical fantasy that will amaze, surprise, and even horrify you. But most importantly, it will make you love every moment.
The Motion of Puppets is available now.