This book is very much a memoir immersed in a larger history of ballet and I found reading it compelling and interesting. As a former ballet dancer myself who once wanted to attend the same school as the author and become a professional dancer, this book really resonated with me and brought up a lot of memories of myself and my own interactions with ballet. I enjoyed reading this and I thank the author, NetGalley, and the publisher for this ARC.

It is well known that ballet is a strenuous, competitive art form. Female dancers, in particular, are expected to attend demanding classes and conform to rigid physical standards. As a young girl studying at the famous School of American Ballet, author Alice Robb was subject to all the familiar pressures, but when she was told she must discontinue her studies, she was bereft. In an effort to understand what happened to her, as well as the continual hold the ballet has on her subconscious mind, she shares her own story as well as those of famous ballerinas such as Margot Fonteyn and Misty Copeland.

Robb is at her best when writing about herself and her friends; her discussions of legendary dancers often devolve into book reports. Still, this book provides a stirring look at an elite world.

I received an electronic pre-publication copy of this book via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. I was not compensated in any way.

Don’t Think, Dear: On Loving and Leaving Ballet by Alice Robb

Robb’s analysis, primarily written from the female perspective, of the pleasures and perils and psychology of the dancer’s life is based on personal experience as well as a synthesis of other ballet performers’ careers, either from their memoirs, biographies, or interviews. Some, like Margot Fonteyn or Misty Copeland or Gelsey Kirkland, are well known beyond their respective generations. Others have toiled in near-obscurity, pursuing the elusive goal of perfection in their art. Admitted to New York’s School of American Ballet (SAB), founded by famously dictatorial choreographer George Balanchine, Robb is unable to meet the superior standard required of aspirants to the New York City Ballet or American Ballet Theater. She is eventually excluded from the rarified profession she desires.
Her more fortunate classmates suffer similar—though well-concealed—doubts and stress. Their careers are hampered, even destroyed, by injury, overwork, and exhaustion. Or worse, what cannot be altered—a body type or skeletal that may appear outwardly normal but is deemed by teachers and administrators as a distortion of the ideal. The need to “lengthen,” a euphemism for weight loss, and the constant assessment and criticism of physical flaws, result in eating disorders and persistent body image trauma. Spending an entire day in a mirrored studio or classroom has lifelong consequences, even for those who abandon or are driven out of ballet.
Hidden from the appreciative and awed audience is the agony imposed by the constricting pointe shoes and the various foot injuries and blemishes beneath the pink satin. For the dancer who is training or rehearsing, pain equal progress, and therefore must be ignored. There are many more professional hazards: sexual bullying or predation by superiors, a dependence upon being constantly told what to do at all times, and the oddly contradictory de-sexualizing effects of being partnered by a male dancer, which involves intimate touching of all body parts and extremely close physical proximity.
And yet, despite its adverse impacts, the spell cast by ballet doesn’t necessarily dissipate disappointed dancers mature and move on. Robb charts the second acts of those of her contemporaries and former classmates as they seek less demanding forms of dance, for exercise of pleasure, or decide to follow other creative pursuits—writing, painting, filmmaking. And some strive to teach ballet technique in a more balanced and sensitive fashion than the one that formed them.
A welcome and highly perceptive addition to the growing list of books examining dance and dancers, this illuminating and incisive work is a well-written and rewarding read. (Mariner Books/HarperCollins, 304 pp., hardcover/audio, February 2023)

I enjoy books about ballet--although I took dance lessons for many years, I was never serious about it as a future profession. Still, anything set in that world automatically interests me.

I was most interested in Robb's reflections on attending the School of American Ballet, how that affected her life, her life after leaving ballet, and her classmates' lives after ballet. I do wish that had been the majority of the book. However, for anyone who can't get enough ballet, this would definitely be for you.


Many thanks to Mariner Books and NetGalley for a digital review copy in exchange for an honest review.

Part memoir, part nonfiction, Robb offers up a look into the world of ballet — and more importantly, how it is a vehicle for institutional abuse. It's devastatingly honest, yet also incredibly validating for anyone who has been in the ballet world. I couldn't recommend this more highly, although I urge readers to approach this with caution, as it does cover a lot of heavy topics.

Don't Think, Dear is an unflinching, raw portrait on the world of ballet. The book is part autobiography and part history of ballet. It's relatable to those who have experiences the ballet world. The book is well-researched with a fascinating historical account. Highly recommended!

The author should have simply told her own story. Instead she relies on quotes from others, but those quotes are quite literally taken from the comments section of GoodReads and Amazon. This is the source of your information to make a compelling argument?

Thank you to NetGalley for the ARC for an honest review.

This book seemed right up my alley-- a memoir about training at New York City Ballet through the stories of a dancer and her classmates? Yes PLEASE. And while about a third of the book does take us into the world of the School of American Ballet, the rest of it is primarily comprised of short bits of research about famous dancers, eating disorders, control, and femininity. All of which certainly is related to the larger story of "loving and leaving ballet," but just felt kind of jumbled and haphazardly inserted. If you're looking for a memoir, this isn't the book for you. If you're more interested in connecting the ballet world to larger trends of feminism, you might find something, but there's a lot to trudge through to get there, and it doesn't delve nearly as deep as a more profound book would.

Possibly the presentation of the subject matter was a bit broad, for I had difficulty tracking such a great amount of information about numerous individuals who popped in and out of the story throughout. Still, Robb's descriptions had me running to my computer to find photos of them to make my impression of them complete. On an entirely personal note, I studied ballet 14 years and did not pursue it, for many reasons. Robb's book provided much-needed assurance that the decision was the right one for me. Thank you, Ms. Robb! OMG, what a life ballerinas have. To some, it would be classified as no life at all. But I was certainly able to understand the dancers and their drive to succeed in such an odd artistic world. I am grateful for the opportunity to have read this book and I thank NetGalley for a free copy in exchange for an honest review.

I read an ARC copy of Don’t Think. Dear from NetGalley and Mariner Books in exchange for an honest review.

This is a slightly autobiographical, biographical, and historical look into the world of ballet. It’s history and how it’s the same and how it’s evolving slowly in the modern era. The writer was a bunhead (ballerina, a serious one at that) herself, who studied after school and immersed herself in the world of ballet until she was expelled from her school. In this book she recounts her own journey, but also that of several of her classmates she was able to get in contact with who also lived and breathed ballet, but despite that, how only one of them is now a professional ballerina. She also delves into the past of certain ballerinas, composers, directors, and what the professions have been throughout history.

The book is startlingly honest. With tales of how the girls were constantly looked at and berated for their bodies, how they often fretted over how they were growing, something they couldn’t control, and many of them falling into eating disorders because of ballet need for their girls to be “fit” and “firm” with the girls sometimes sent to their “nutritionists” where they were praised if they were skinny even if they were fainting because of their malnutrition. If you are dealing with any ED yourself, this would be a book to skip because this was a world that glorified staying thin.

More than that was the author’s love of ballet and even what it gave to her. Even as she saw the things that were wrong with it. She loved how it gave her structure in her life. How she didn’t have to think about what she was doing, just listen to her teachers, and be proud when they corrected her because that meant they were looking at her.

The history is even more twisted. The way ballerinas were almost fancy prostitutes. How men would come to see the girls warming up before the show, the mothers greedily there to sell their daughters to them. Or how the various men would prey on the ballerinas, including the ballet the author had participated in herself. How people defended him even after he’d been dead so long as if he were the victim and the ballerinas would have been better if they’d just been objects.

For anyone interested in dipping their toes and getting a few personal anecdotes into the ballet world, this is a great book to start with. It even has some books for further reading that I know I will want to check out later!

Beauty floating on the surface of institutional abuse. An honest, unflinching look at how striving for impossible goals often result in breathtaking art. But is it worth it? Alice Robb let's the reader make up their own minds.

This part-memoir, part-historical account of ballet by Alice Robb was like a balm to my soul. As a "retired" ballet dancer myself, I found myself relating to much of what Robb wrote about - the joys and pains of being a dancer, the perfectionism, and the regrets of giving it up. I would have liked to read more about Robb's experiences as a dancer and less about social commentary on feminism and womanhood, which seemed to detract from the story at times. Overall, I greatly enjoyed this book and would recommend it to anyone with a background in dance or who admires ballet.