Girl Through Glass

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Summary (from the publisher): In the roiling summer of 1977, eleven-year-old Mira is an aspiring ballerina in the romantic, highly competitive world of New York City ballet. Enduring the mess of her parent’s divorce, she finds escape in dance—the rigorous hours of practice, the exquisite beauty, the precision of movement, the obsessive perfectionism. Ballet offers her control, power, and the promise of glory. It also introduces her to forty-seven-year-old Maurice DuPont, a reclusive, charismatic balletomane who becomes her mentor.

Over the course of three years, Mira is accepted into the prestigious School of American Ballet run by the legendary George Balanchine, and eventually becomes one of “Mr. B’s girls”—a dancer of rare talent chosen for greatness. As she ascends higher in the ballet world, her relationship with Maurice intensifies, touching dark places within herself and sparking unexpected desires that will upend both their lives.

In the present day Kate, a professor of dance at a Midwestern college, embarks on a risky affair with a student that threatens to obliterate her career and upend the new life she has painstakingly created for her reinvented self. When she receives a letter from a man she’s long thought dead, Kate is hurled back into the dramas of a past she thought she had left behind.

Told in interweaving narratives that move between past and present, Girl Through Glass illuminates the costs of ambition, secrets, and the desire for beauty, and reveals how the sacrifices we make for an ideal can destroy—or save—us.
 
Review: I received an uncorrected proof copy of this novel from HarperCollins.
 
Told in interweaving narratives that move between the late 1970s and present day, this novel is about aspiring ballerina Mira. In 1977, Mira is 11 years old, coping with her parents' divorce, and quickly rising the ranks of the competitive world of New York City ballet. In the present, Mira, now known as Kate, is a professor of dance in the Midwest, still struggling with reconciling her past and her former life as a dancer.

This novel  illustrates how the search for perfection and beauty can go awry. Yet it's also about the danger of possessing an unusual gift; Mira is unaware of how much power she holds over others who are in awe of her talent. Sadly, the novel seemed like an indictment of dancing itself. The punishing, grueling schedule Mira adheres takes over her life and places undue strain on such a young girl. Yet her parents, who are distracted at best, are also to blame for Mira's downfall and for failing to guide and protect their young daughter.

Throughout, Mira is plagued by a hunger both physical and figurative. "She feels suddenly very hungry, a deep ache that comes not pleading and insistent as hunger from her stomach, but general and complete, from the farthest reaches of her body" (41). As she grows older and progresses in ballet, she is increasingly rigid with her diet, denying herself most foods. "A pie, waiting on the breakfast bar covered by plastic wrap, quivers and molts before her like an oasis. She feels the lurch of her whole body toward it" (233). And yet, Mira never seems able to satisfy her hunger or even to know what might satisfy it. She seems to yearn for the spotlight and for attention that can come from being one of the best dancers; "She is giddy with anticipation. All the attention she will get, each piece given to her, each unwrapped to reveal a pair of eyes" (53). Yet she doesn't seem sure if she even really likes dancing.

Seemingly in opposition to her yearning for attention, Mira/Kate seems drawn to the secretive and the furtive. "Why am I drawn to the illicit, the secretive? It's like a curse I can't shake" (75). But perhaps this attraction to Maurice, her great admirer, is yet another dimension of her attraction to dance - for an audience and individual attention, something she fails to have from her parents. "Yes, her mother is gone - but, like a girl in a fairy tale, she has been given a substitute. An admirer: as rich as her father, as doting and attentive as a mother should be" (152). Interestingly, it is in this moment of satisfaction that she at last feels physically sated: "She gets up to go the buffet and returns with a pile of stuffed mushrooms. How she loves stuffed mushrooms" (152).

The chapters set in the 1970s are told in third person while the present day is in first person, as if Kate cannot reflect on her past without distancing herself. Furthermore, Kate reflects consistently on the "slippery nature" of memory and the past. "I know there is never only one version of the past. We resurrect the past to suit the needs of the present" (247). And later, "I don't know if I remember myself right at this age. It's a slippery part of my past, even more slippery than all that happened with Maurice. This is a different kind of loss of memory" (276). Both as Mira and as Kate, she reveals herself to be less than trustworthy and lying to those around her in order to remain hidden and keep her secrets. Perhaps her version of her childhood is no different in terms of its level of honesty.

Reading this novel felt unpleasant. The tone is disturbing, filled with the illicit and the furtive. Maurice was a particularly disconcerting character, as his relationship with young Mira was wildly inappropriate and hard to watch unfold. Yet Kate replicates this dynamic when she initiates a relationship with her young student. Perhaps the real lesson is that nothing is ever as it seems. Beyond the beauty and perfection of the dancers on the stage lie punishing regimes, shady characters, and unhappy homes.

Stars: 4


 
 
 

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