In the interest of full disclosure, I meant to write about Pointe, the first novel of Brandy Colbert.
However, I quickly realized that everything I was writing became a dance book rant, so I gave up and decided to (officially) write about the challenges of finding a good dance book for someone over the age of 10.
See, generally they fall into one of the several categories below:
1) The Children’s Book. There is nothing wrong with this form, per se, but there are two ways this book can go: the instruction manual (which is always oversimplified and often inaccurate); and the dance story in which everything is hunky-dory. The characters are always full of promise, dance all the time, and never get injured (I’m looking at you, Ballet Shoes). I understand that no one wants to scare children, or kill their dreams, but this just isn’t reality.
2) The Book Where the Author Has No Clue What They Are Writing About. We’ve all heard the saying “write what you know.” Unfortunately, many authors completely forget about this when it comes to writing dance novels. I recently read Withering Tights by Louise Rennison, which I started because the main character was an Irish dancer. However, I soon realized that Rennison had not done her research: she called one of the moves “twisty ankle things.” Not only would no self-respecting Irish dancer describe a move like that, but it is not descriptive. There are so many moves Rennison could mean:
As you can tell, all these moves are very different and all could be described as “twisty ankle things.”
3) The Author Has Actually Done Research And Still Doesn’t Get It. Even if the author has learned about dance, and really has done their best, it doesn’t mean they can describe dance. I do understand this: I’ve been dancing for years, and I often cannot describe the sensation of dancing—partly because it may change on a day-to-day basis, but mostly because I can’t really explain to non-dancers how it feels. Even so, why would one try to write about something they can’t describe?
However, there are a few beacons of hope for people looking for good dance books. The first is On Pointe, by Lorie Ann Grover. This is the story of a young dancer forced into early retirement when she grows too tall to dance, and is written in verse. The second is I Was A Dancer by Jacques D’Amboise, a lovely (if not always perfectly written) memoir. Finally, try Bunheads by Sophie Flack. Each of these explains what if feels like to dance, and I’ve re-read these several times. Happy dancing!