WtAFW: The Prince of Broken Toys by Michelle Deimos

 

THE PRINCE OF BROKEN TOYS was an impulse buy because my friend Heather (who I BRed this with) had mentioned it to me, and the preorder was 99-cents, and also because I liked the cover. The premise is very difficult to explain. The heroine, Seraphine, is a doll-princess who is considered to be the "sluttier" of the two sisters because she turns to flesh more than her more perfect and correct sister, Frostine, does. The hero, Luxure, is a horse-headed man who had all of the paint scraped off his face by an abusive master, baring him right down to the bone. When they meet, Seraphine takes him in and ends up going from his savior to his student as he indulges and encourages her "racy" dancing.

This book was so weird. Weird and creative. It kind of gave Tim Burton aesthetics, with a dash of The Nutcracker, and that creepy Filmation Pinocchio movie from the late 1980s, Pinocchio and the Emperor of the Night. There's a scene in that movie that kind of reminded me of Luxure and his cruel and abusive ringmaster. Creepy. I swear, with movies like this and Rats of NIMH, the 80s seriously gave no fucks about who they traumatized. 

But even though this book has some dark (more abusive and traumatic than gory) content, what it is more than anything is an excuse for some truly weird monsterotica.

I actually wasn't the biggest fan of this one just because I found it a little confusing and heavier on the erotica than the actual story, but I could appreciate the world-building. I also liked how "fleshing," or the process of puppets turning from material to flesh, sort of seemed to be an allegory for the demonstration of sexuality, and how Luxure and Seraphine both used their fleshing in their ways of coping with abuse: Luxure locked down and turned to wood (this felt like an allegory for how some abuse survivors go nonresponsive), whereas Seraphine became oversexualized (another coping mechanism, in an attempt to reclaim one's sexuality). The organic puppet strings, which in this book are sort of extensions for the soul, felt like an allegory for bodily autonomy; having people take your strings without your permission hurts-- on both sides-- but can be beautiful when voluntary.

What this book ultimately feels like is a surreal tale of abuse survivors reclaiming their sense of self and sexuality once more through sex and dance. Seraphine overcomes the slut-shaming of the court and the false dichotomies created for her and her sister to ultimately be her own person and find love on her own terms. It was very weird and had skeleton horse-men and some very light pony play, but I'm not sorry I read it. Not sure this author's style is for me necessarily but I appreciate her creativity and aesthetics. Also, if you read this and end up thinking that you need your puppets in your life (ew, why), watch Pinocchio and the Emperor of Night if you feel like scarring yourself for life.

2.5 to 3 out of 5 stars