Izzy's Reviews > Pointe

People fawn over the beauty of dance. The long legs and elegant shoes and expertly twisted buns. And it's not that they're wrong. Those are all part of the reason I was drawn to ballet at the age of three. But I'd be willing to bet those same people have never set foot in the dressing room of a dance studio. Because you can't quite look at it the same once you've been to the other side.

Actual rating: 4.5 stars

Fun fact/personal story time: I was a ballet dancer for eight years. My mom is a ballet teacher, has been for over thirty years, and ballet has always been a part of my life, even though I haven't danced in years. So I'm always interested in reading fiction that involves a part of that world, because there's a lot to explore within it — the pressure the dancers have to endure, the psychological damage, the dynamics between the girls... It was what drew me to this book, but this is not really a book about ballet. It's still amazing, though.

Pointe is about Theo, a 17 years old dancer. She does a good job of juggling being a junior in high school with the intense dance schedule she maintains, in hopes of becoming a professional soon. Everything is pretty uneventful in her life, until one Thursday when her best friend who has been missing for four years is found.

The book sets out to tackle a lot of issues that are difficult to deal with: eating disorders, a kidnapping, pedophilia, rape. It sounds like too much — it could have easily become too much, in the hands of an author who'd include those things strictly for their shock factor and not known how to handle them — but we don't see that happening here. It takes some dark turn you wouldn't expect at first, and it all contributes to Theo's growth and to the conclusion of the story.

Thirteen. I learned how to put a condom on a guy when I was that age. Not every time. Only when Chris felt like it. Which wasn't often.

The book is written to the flow of Theo's thoughts and internal ramblings, and that might not be everyone's cup of tea, but I think it's the only way we can truly see how the confusion and the fear works inside a victim's mind; from an outside perspective, some of the choices Theo made wouldn't have made sense if we didn't know what a true mess she was inside.

Theo is insecure; she doesn't believe she's a good enough dancer, that she's pretty, that she's worth of a guy who won't have to hide the fact that he's with her. And that's what made me love her so much — I can relate to that feeling of not being good enough, of not understanding why people think you're special. She's not a special snowflake kind of girl; she's just a teenage girl who's been through a lot, and who doesn't know that yes, she deserves better. And at first I kind of wanted to shake her for settling for less than what she deserved, but what was great was to see how much she grew throughout the book, and how she ended up dealing with things.

Another amazing thing was how the author subtly included the subject of race. Both Theo and Donovan are black, in a mostly white suburban town just outside of Chicago. Their struggles aren't limited to the fact that they're black, but it's discussed, because of the impact it has in their lives. The thing about it, though, is that often a character that's black, or gay, or fat, or whatever escapes the norm—authors let that become their defining trait, never developing them past a stereotype or past the struggles they have to face, and this definitely doesn't happen here. It was honestly refreshing to see how real these characters felt, from Theo and Donovan to the side characters.

Overall, I really enjoyed this, and it's definitely a read more people should be considering.