Having read Still Life by Sarah Winman and thoroughly enjoyed it, I thought I’d explore more of her work. I’d also been meaning to read When God Was a Rabbit, and somewhere along the way, I muddled it up in my head with When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit. I know—they’re completely different books by completely different authors, but these things happen! That said, I ended up reading Tin Man next, and I’m very glad I did.

The story revolves around three main characters: Michael, Ellis, and Annie. Ellis is, I suppose, arguably the central character, but they are a trio. In this respect, it reminds me very much of a book I read by Julian Barnes, Talking It Over (another good read), where a love triangle develops. In Tin Man, there isn’t a physical love triangle—Michael is openly gay—but there is a mutual emotional dependency between them all.

When we are first introduced to the characters, they are boys. Ellis dreams of being an artist, but ends up working in a car plant. Michael moves to the area and is brought up by his grandmother, Mabel. The book is about love, and it’s about character. It is tender, subtle, and deals with the emotions we all face in life: grief, memory, art, beauty, repression, and openness.

A key feature in the book is a print of Van Gogh’s Sunflowers, which is significant in Ellis’s mum’s life and ultimately becomes a symbol of joy and hope amid sadness. As I write, I’ve realised that this is probably a nod to Van Gogh himself. Art featured heavily in Still Life — the book that led me to become interested in Winman — with a focus on Renaissance art. In interviews, Sarah Winman speaks about how art enables her characters (and her readers) to process grief, love, and joy. I particularly like how she lifts ordinary people through their appreciation of art, showing how it transcends class, if you like.

Tin Man isn’t really plot-driven, other than following the characters’ lives and how they respond to illness. The AIDS epidemic is present—quietly but powerfully—and we see the emotional and physical toll it takes, especially on Michael. I suppose, as it is written in 2017, the looking back at recent history adds to the melancholy. It’s a bit like reading an old comic or watching a TV show set in the 1980s or 1990s. Winman captures the mood, atmosphere, and setting of that time in history with ease.

From the working-class grit of Ellis’s dad at the car plant to Michael’s cold, unaccepting mother, the sense of place is strong. The romance of the road trip to rural France, the freedom of Brighton where Michael later lives, and the community of the Oxford village which Michael stops visiting once Mabel has died — all these settings contribute to the emotional map of the book.

This book isn’t pacey or fast; it’s gentle, warm, and sad. It’s a bit like Anne Tyler’s Three Days in June in some ways, but more dreamy and ephemeral. Yet they could work side by side as part of a similar genre. I enjoyed both. And I look forward to reading more. Tin Man is simpler than Still Life by a long way, less ambitious in scope, but no less intense or powerful as a character study and a snapshot of life.