vagansmom

Ray, I've heard terrific things about Toibin's Brooklyn. I'm looking forward to reading it myself. I'm just finishing A Child Called Noah by Josh Greenfield. It was published in 1972. It's mostly selections from his diary about his son who is severely autistic. But back then, the diagnosis was really unclear, and the parents were told all kinds of things about their child. Many professionals thought schizophrenia and autism were one and the same. What's so terrific about this particular book is how observant the mom and dad were, right from the outset. All the signs about this child's autism were clearly present even before the age when it's usually identified. I'm actually reading the book because I recently read an excerpt from Greenfield's healthy son's book about his now adult brother, Noah. I realized that I owned the dad's book, but had never read it. I'll then read Karl Greenfield's book, Boy Alone: A Brother's Memoir. I have a 52 year old sister who has never been able to care for herself, so I look forward to reading Karl's perspective on his brother and to what degree he is willing to involve himself in his daily care. Next up on my nightstand is Nathaniel Philbrick's Mayflower: A Story of Courage, Community, and War, about the Plymouth Colony. Just one more week of school and then my time frees up to read with abandon.

While waiting in a library for a tutoring student who turned out to be a no-show, I picked up Tana French's In the Woods, a novel billed as a "psychological thriller." Because it takes place in Ireland and I'm addicted, by marriage, to anything Irish, I was really curious about it. Like lots of psychological thrillers, this one was a page-turner. I loved the plot, I loved how it was and was not resolved. The major theme - who killed a 12 year old aspiring ballet dancer who was accepted into the Royal Ballet, was resolved, but not a secondary one. Some would argue IT was the major theme, and I have no problem agreeing with them. French shows her solid knowledge of ballet student life and of ballet technique through the eyes of the narrator, a male detective. I looked French up online, and found that she's an actor, but couldn't find any info on her ballet background. I have a few quibbles with the book, the main one being that the Irish dialogue doesn't ring true. It sounds American. Also, I found that the male protagonist, the narrator, felt more female than male. I know it sounds sexist, and some people might really disagree with me, but there it is. His style of empathy, not the empathy itself, didn't ring true to me. I was (mostly) happy to overlook it because I really enjoyed the plot and general writing style even if it wasn't really very Irish. Anyone else read this book?

About a decade ago, I took my then teenage daughter into NYC to see a doctor who worked exclusively with dancers. At some point in the conversation, he commented that daughter had nice arches and wouldn't need to ever use an arch enhancer. I remember being totally floored that dancers actually wore them! He said that I'd then be surprised at how many dancers at both NYCB and ABT used them. It makes me sad somehow. Sigh... Vipa, I so heartily agree. That, and epaulement.

I am hoping that those words were just an unfortunate utterance, the kind of thing we blurt out when we're tired and/or distracted, and that Hill didn't really mean them the way they sounded.

One author I know I'll never revisit is Philip Roth. I read American Pastoral two years ago, and found it so ponderous that I didn't much care about the protagonist. I finished the book, but don't know why. On another topic, the Great Books selection was created from the Western canon, beginning with the ancient Greeks. St. John's, in the years I was most familiar with the program, used to unapologetically say that since there wasn't time to do both the Western and Eastern civilization in the comprehensive way they've set up, they chose the Western civilization since those are the traditions that built our American culture. Fair enough. I hope that's what they're still saying, and that they haven't felt forced to water down their program. It would be quite wonderful, however, if there were another school in the Western world such as St. John's - and maybe there is, but I don't know of one - whose curriculum is similar to theirs (studying the language, science, math, literature, history, philosophy, music, and art on a time line that begins with an early great culture on up to the present times). I'm guessing such a program exists in the East, and I hope there's a program - outside of an Eastern Studies kind of major - for us Westerners.

Thanks, Ray, for that list. Both my children read nearly all those books (and other selections by some of the others) as part of their private high school reading experience. Neither were in honors or AP English classes, so to me, that's a sad commentary on the state of the average public high school English programs. Whetherwax, I don't find your comments arrogant at all. I find many contemporary novels to be too preachy in that respect - they're what I call "trendy", and I'm way past being preached to. But I don't read literature for a message - I read novels these days simply for a good story, like watching a movie, but it has to be written in prose that surprises and delights me. So nothing by an author like the wildly popular Jody Picoult will appeal to me, but boy oh boy, Jamie O'Neill's At Swim, Two Boys words thrilled me. I'd read his sentences over and over again for the visual images they'd evoke, and the surprising ways he'd combine words. It was sheer delight to let his phrases trickle through my mind.

I remember that both Jane Austen Emma and Virginia Woolf (To the Lighthouse or A Room of One's Own were on the list my husband read at St. John's. I think they were the only women who made it onto the Great Books list back then. My guess is that Toni Morrison's Beloved might be there now. And possibly Willa Cather. My kids attended a well-known private boarding high school and read Morrison's first two novels as part of their curriculum. In fact, I think they read quite a few more recent novels. But the students I work with who are in public schools do seem to be stuck with the same books I read in high school in the late 60's/early 70's. Not necessarily a bad thing, but I'd sure like them to sample more than Dead White Anglo Males.

My husband completed the 100 Great Books - the 1970's list anyway. But it was required reading - he went to St. John's College which is the Great Books program. I haven't checked the list in years, but I'm assuming it's changed a little bit over the years, perhaps adding another female author or two?

Hans and Bart, I think that's probably true - with a couple exceptions, I'm not much of a fantasy novel reader. I liked C.S. Lewis's space trilogy and Isaac Asimov's science fiction Foundation trilogy, but other than that, I'm generally not interested in fantasy. Ditto my husband's tastes too. Unlike you, Bart, I do love the ballet Don Quixote, but I think that's because my daughter danced it. However, I do like fantasy in dance a whole lot!

Ach, Don Quixote! That's one I could never wade through either. When I first met my husband, he was a student at St. John's College, and Don Q. was required reading that summer. He and I embarked on a summer of hitchhiking through Central America, and I tried valiantly to read that book, hoping that spending time in Spanish-speaking countries would provide the right atmosphere, but to no avail. I hated it. My husband finished the book, but retains no fond memories of it. It was bitter medicine. However, we both have the fondest memories of a summer replete with bed bugs, cutter ants (their bites made me miserable), poison toads, and Montezuma's Revenge. There's nothing like new love.

I read contemporary books out of duty all the time because I belong to a book club where the members each take turns deciding which book to read each month. So, in the past decade, I've had to read books by Jody Picoult, Anne Perry, Anita Shreve, Isabelle Allende, Maeve Binchy, Barbara Kingsolver, Anne Tyler. I find most of them too trendy for my taste, but I read them as a loyal member of the book club. But I was also introduced to some contemporary authors whom I now love: Carol Shields, Elizabeth McCracken (her short stories), and Jamie O'Neill (the lone male among our authors, he wrote "At Swim, Two Boys"), among others. My own choices for book group tend to be classics, particularly the Russian authors and Jane Austen. I've also chosen books by Willa Cather and Rumer Godden for our group to read. In the book group through the years, I know that certain members won't read any book I suggest except for the first few cursory pages, and I often do the same with one member's choices. We're all OK with that, however; although we start off sticking to the book, our conversations always manage to veer off about halfway through our session into topics that require no reading of the book. I'm glad to have had the exposure to these novelists despite my being a rather persnickety reader. It took me years to leave the classics domain and explore contemporary works.

I've been reading American history books this year. It started off as part of my job this past fall/winter when a student of mine was researching the early 1900's and had to read Upton Sinclair's The Jungle. But then of course, I got hooked. So this winter I read George Mowry's Theodore Roosevelt and the Progressive Movement. Although everyone compares Obama's economic agenda to FDR's (and there are many, many similarities), I'm also struck by the similarity of the early 1900's to today: large corporations with power in the hands of a few - rich getting richer, poor getting poorer, immigration issues, union issues, etc. For example, in 1902, Teddy Roosevelt called together union representatives of the striking PA coal workers and the owners, and threatened them with government intervention if they didn't start negotiating. Strikingly, Obama did something similar recently when, upon calling to Washington both the GM leaders and the union leaders, he threatened government-controlled bankruptcy if they didn't start compromising. Last month, I also read a book of essays (don't remember the title now) written by Progressives and Socialists of the early 1900's: Eugene Debs, a Socialist who founded the IWW and ran for President of the USA on the Socialist ticket in four consecutive races, Jack London (who was an ardent Socialist), Louis Brandeis, Upton Sinclair, and others. So much of the rhetoric of that time is echoed today. Right now, I'm in the middle of Oscar Handlin's Pulitzer prize-winning book, The Uprooted. It's the story of the great migration to America beginning in the 1700's. Although the language is quite stilted, the book (which I haven't yet finished) does a great job explaining in detail what caused the exodus from Europe on a country by country basis. Our history textbooks never go into enough detail for me, so this is a treat. I haven't yet gotten to the part about their lives in America, but am reading about the treacherous voyages across the ocean. Next up for me is Doris Kearns Goodwin's Team of Rivals which was sent to me by a long-time friend I met on Ballet Talk before our daughters both became professional dancers. I've read other (smaller) books about Lincoln, but none with a focus on his "team". I'm really looking forward to it. Anyone else read this book yet? I think, from all my reading of both the Square Deal and the New Deal eras, I've come out with the most profound respect for Louis Brandeis, the famous lawyer turned Supreme Court judge. His writings come up again and again throughout that period of time. He advocated eloquently for the "common man" his entire life. Our world is crying for more people like him.

My reaction was the same, Cristian. I was a "love 'em" person, thinking in general terms, but I don't want to see them on stage unless they fit the character and period! I think that tats would be great in "West Side Story", and so would piercings. But unless it's a modern view of the classics, my vote would have to be no to wearing them onstage. I'm curious about those tiny nose piercings, though: Are there many ballet dancers with them?

I too would love to see a current performance by Michelle Wiles. I have seen her several times on stage, and while I admire her technique, I've always wished she could give us, the audience, more of herself. Her performances were too cold for my taste, although I know others who have always raved about her. I wonder if, through David Howard and/or maturity, she has now found that place within herself that allows some expression to bubble out? Perspectives are always fascinating. As mom to a dancer who spent all her formative years training in the Vaganova method, I have a great appreciation and love for Vaganova technique. Interestingly, I always thought that Wiles danced without upper body expression (in this perhaps unusual case not to be confused with technique) as did so many of the NYCB dancers I have seen in the past! While it's clear her training was Vaganova, her dancing had a woodenness that I'm not used to seeing in Vaganova-trained professional ballet dancers at the soloist and principal dancer level. To me, there was a lifelessness to it. It's so interesting that she feels that her Vaganova training is cause of this. My quibble with NYCB dancers has always been their lack of a beautiful upper body. Only recently, with the new crop of youngsters at NYCB have I gotten excited again. I much prefer what I would've called the expressiveness of Vaganova trained dancers (with Wiles being the aberration). My ideal dancer has Vaganova expressiveness and Balanchine speed. I now look forward to seeing Michelle Wiles perform, and am hoping that, in her, I can find some glimmerings of that perfect marriage. vagansmom (as in "Vaganova" mom )

Because I'm tutoring several high schoolers, most of my reading the last couple years have been the books they're required to read. I've revisited so many earlier books, and I have found myself loving most of them so much more than I did at the time. Right now, I'm reading my way through F.Scott Fitzgerald's books, as a result of having reread Great Gatsby in the fall. I'm almost through with The Beautiful and the Damned and will finish off with Tender is the Night next week sometime. I'm also now just 50 pages shy of finishing Upton Sinclair's The Jungle. Although it's quite flawed as a novel and I wasn't looking forward to reading it (but had to because my student is), my interest in and enjoyment of the book has surprised myself. A perfect book to read over the past few months. It describes early 1900's Chicago corruption in great detail. Then, lo and behold, I turn on the TV to see the Chicago governor trying to sell Obama's Senate seat! What timing for my student. Let's say she's not exactly thrilled about having to read the book, but the revelation about Blagojevich suddenly made The Jungle seem relevant. Also rereading Huck Finn again. Another really good classic to read this year of all years when the nation's first black person has been inaugurated as President. How far we've come!

Before I saw the movie today, I knew nothing of Cate Blanchett's role, so it was a great surprise to see that her character was a ballet dancer who studied at SAB and danced for Balanchine. This is from Reuters UK:

Phaedra, I agree with you that pointe shoe sounds are louder, be it from louder shoes or less effort to prepare them in advance. I suspect it's a little of both. I think that the change is happening mostly at the dance school level. I think some of the issue is that some ballet schools are not as conscientious about teaching their students how to break in a pointe shoe for quietness. In the past, there were fewer pre-professional ballet schools in the USA at the level where students would go on to dance professionally. Many, but definitely not all (and I can think of one well-known US school and company who has never paid much attention to the sound of the shoes), of those schools insisted on quiet shoes for their school performances. But ballet school training really expanded in the 80's and 90's, with more and more schools in operation; I'd say that it's been in the late 90's up to present time that I've noticed louder and louder performances. BTW, I agree that the Russians have always been loud, and it doesn't seem as though there's any change over the years, but I do think there is a change in the loudness of many American dancers' performances. For 12 years, my daughter attended a pre-professional ballet school whose director passionately hated loud pointe shoes. It drove her nuts when she'd attend summer ballet intensives that didn't require quiet performance shoes. In her professional dance life, my kiddo has said that she can identify where some dancers trained based on the loudness of their shoes , with graduates of her school having the quietest shoes. They simply grew up having to make sure their shoes weren't loud, and while they complained a lot about the practice, in adulthood they can't bear hearing noisy shoes, finding that it interferes with the aesthetic. My feelings exactly.

Oh goodie, I finally get to say it: Misuse of the word "bemused." It means bewildered, NOT amused. Far too many people, including journalists, misuse this word as a synonym for "amused."

Michelle Obama took ballet as a teen, not sure if she also did as a younger child.

I don't think anything could have been worse than "The Continuing Story."

How many of you listen to books on tape? Do you find that there are some books or styles you have trouble reading, but can readily listen to? Or vice versa? I realize that the quality of a "book on tape" can make all the difference, and really depends on the capability of the narrator; just try listening to some of the audio recordings made for the wonderful organization, "Recordings for the Blind and the Dyslexic" (volunteers make their recordings). The narration quality is hit or miss. But assuming a recording is narrated well, do you have a preference? My husband, who has keratoconus, an eye disease, now listens to most of his books in the car. I recently realized that I have strong preferences for what kind of material I prefer to read rather than listen to. I want to read serious novels, not listen to them, but I like to hear humorous books and mysteries, rather than read them. Years ago, I tried to read a Maeve Binchy novel and just plain didn't like it. But on a long trip recently, I listened to her Scarlet Feather, and I loved it: it was great entertainment. I think being a captive audience helps. But I wouldn't have read the book, even now, after knowing I enjoyed it. It's frivolous in my mind, I guess. I prefer reading most scientific books so that I can easily go back and reread passages again and again, but have no preference either way for non-fiction history books (as opposed to historical novels which I prefer reading myself). I think that my strong preference for reading novels as opposed to listening to them involves ritual and surrounding aesthetics. I have a favorite place in my house to read, with a teapot at my side, and often classical music in the background. I like to glance up from reading and look around me. The serenity of the experience is important. I can be more thoughtful in that environment, letting words wash over me, and pausing from time to time to reflect. It's harder to do that in a car. Even if I were to listen to a book in my reading environment, I wouldn't be able to pause and reflect so easily, and would instead be fumbling with the rewind button. So, what about you? Preferences?

I loved Tom Jones, every bit of it, but I was reading it at the same time as my husband, to whom I was newly married. He had to read it while at St. John's College. I think that was the motivation I needed to continue with the book. Because we were talking about it daily, I think it was easier to enjoy. Started and stopped Moby Dick though. I don't even want to bother going back to it. I like the question about getting through parts of books. Yes, that happened to me with my earlier readings of War and Peace. I read it once a decade. I see my evolution as a person and as a reader through each new time spent with this book. As a young person, I read it mostly for the romance, skimmed through the war parts, settings, and anything much to do with the older folks. As I've aged in the last two decades, I started to read other parts with much greater interest. Now I really love the settings, and take great care reading them. I also love the historical perspective; it's sent me off to Russian history textbooks on a number of occasions. And the family dynasty part! That is most intriguing now, in my mid-50's and thinking about my own family past, present, and future, watching the younger ones finding their mates and trying to integrate their families. It's my favorite classic.

Eeks, the DSM-IV has been a bedside "friend" of mine for years. Certain parts are quite outdated though. I've been anxiously (uh-oh, bad word choice given the book's content ) awaiting #5, but its publication keeps getting pushed back. In the meantime, along that vein, I'm reading The Clinical Neuropsychiatry of Multiple Sclerosis and, thanks to Treefrog , The 36 Hour Day (about dementia). Another book on my "to read" shelf is Daniel J. Siegel's The Mindful Brain: Reflection and Attunement in the Cultivation of Well-Being, but I haven't yet started it. I'd already read his The Developing Mind: How Relationships and the Brain Interact to Shape Who We Are. Most of his writings are about the interplay between genetics and environment. Although his language can get bogged down (at least for me) in technical jargon, I love the spirit of his writings, their hopefulness and belief that so much about who we are can be improved. Time and again, in my work with children, I find that he's right. When I bought the book from Amazon, I discovered that he took time off from med school to "pursue drawing and dancing." Cristian, I loved Farrell's book. I think it's because it was my initiation into the world of ballet dancers. With a daughter headed in that direction, all I wanted at that time was to understand a little bit more about the life of someone in ballet, and it provided what I needed. I didn't find it boring or dry at all; in fact, I really loved the aura of distance that's cultivated in her book. I found it fitting, given her circumstances. I also loved that it was positive; I think if I'd read some of the other autobiographies first, I might have pulled my kiddo out of ballet school , but I can see how others, with ballet in their blood, might feel differently about the book. By contrast, I didn't like Kirkland's first book at all; I've given my reasons elsewhere on this and the sister board, so I won't repeat it here. I think I've read most of the ballet autobiographies and some biographies - haven't read Danilova's book though. I'm looking forward to that. My favorites among the ballet autobiographies are Igor Schwezoff's Borzoi and Villella's Prodigal Son. Borzoi is fascinating. As a student of Russian history, I thought it was a gem. I really enjoy older prose (another reason why I liked Holding on to the Air - I think it reads like it was written in an earlier era). I read Prodigal Son immediately following Farrell's book; I thought that they should have been marketed together as brother/sister volumes. Even though Villella had plenty of negative things to say about Balanchine, I always felt that there was, within his words, still an enormous respect for the man. Villella managed to say the bad stuff without the book degenerating into diatribe. I appreciated that. In a thrift store the other day, I picked up Diane Solway's A Dance Against Time, about Eddie Stierle's (Joffrey Ballet) life and death. Am only about 30 pages into it, so I don't really have an opinion.

I am curious, cubanmiamiboy, what made you believe that Kirkland's first book was "honest"?

Congratulations to Patti LuPone for her win! I am delighted.