Dont Think Dear

‘Don’t think, dear’ said Balanchine. ‘Just do.’ For centuries, being a ballerina has been synonymous with being beautiful, thin, obedient and feminine. It is the crucible of womanhood, together with the harassment, physical abuse and eating disorders endemic at top schools. Can we abide this in a post #MeToo world? Weaving together her own time at America’s most elite ballet school with the lives of renowned ballerinas throughout history, Alice Robb interrogates what it means to perform ballet today. She confronts the all-consuming nature of the form: the obsessive and dangerous practices to perfect the body, the embrace of submission and the idealisation of suffering. Yet ballet also gifts its dancers ‘brains in their toes’, a way to fully inhabit their bodies and a sanctuary of control away from the pressures of the outside world. Perhaps it is time to reimagine its liberating potential.

WINNER OF THE NOBEL PRIZE© IN LITERATURE 2013 A New York Times Notable Book A Washington Post Notable Work of Fiction A Best Book of the Year: The Atlantic, NPR, San Francisco Chronicle, Vogue, AV Club In story after story in this brilliant new collection, Alice Munro pinpoints the moment a person is forever altered by a chance encounter, an action not taken, or a simple twist of fate. Her characters are flawed and fully human: a soldier returning from war and avoiding his fiancée, a wealthy woman deciding whether to confront a blackmailer, an adulterous mother and her neglected children, a guilt-ridden father, a young teacher jilted by her employer. Illumined by Munro’s unflinching insight, these lives draw us in with their quiet depth and surprise us with unexpected turns. And while most are set in her signature territory around Lake Huron, some strike even closer to home: an astonishing suite of four autobiographical tales offers an unprecedented glimpse into Munro’s own childhood. Exalted by her clarity of vision and her unparalleled gift for storytelling, Dear Life shows how strange, perilous, and extraordinary ordinary life can be.

Charles Holbrook Prentiss (1830-1924), my father’s great uncle by marriage, wrote many letters home while serving in the 19th Michigan Volunteer Infantry between 1862 and 1865. These letters came to me from my father and I have transcribed them to make them more accessible. They provide a unique and interesting view of events during the war. Charlie wrote his letters to entertain and inform the readers at home. They make you think you are eavesdropping on a veteran’s recollections. Nancy Jordan, a native of Kalamazoo, Michigan, is retired in Fairfax, Virginia, with her husband, Douglas, after having lived in a number of places around the country. In addition to raising four daughters, she has been a librarian, school teacher, homemaker, youth leader, genealogist, and transcriber and now enjoys being a grandmother. The transcribing was a labor of love as well as an interesting experience, and she is happy to make the results available to others.

Reproduction of the original.

How did women in the early twentieth century, newly arrived in North-West Canada, cope with their strange new lives — so very different from the lives they used to lead? How did they see themselves and their role in frontier life? In the early twentieth century, drawn west by the promise of free land, economic success or religious and political freedom, women moved from eastern Canada and overseas to farms and ranches in North-West Canada. They discovered that it was not the utopia touted by government propaganda or land agents. They also discovered that there was a select but diverse group of rural women who shared their common experiences of isolation, of hard work and duty, of poverty and neglect. But, more importantly, they shared knowledge of independence and self-reliance and of pride in what they had accomplished. Through letters written to the women’s pages in agricultural newspapers, they forged a vital network that supported, encouraged and educated women in ways to improve their rural lives. Their letters show how these rural women made significant and vital contributions to the settlement and development of the Canadian North-West.

John McDougall, the last weaver on the Isle of Lismore in the West Highlands of Scotland, was not wealthy but his life as superintendent of the small islands Sabbath school was far from simple. As his eight children passed away or left Lismore for other parts of Scotland and America to live more prosperous lives, McDougall began writing letters to his adult son, John, who emigrated to Minnesota. The letters, which reflect his sadness after the childrens departure, provide rare insight into the daily routine and thoughts of a landless cottar who was an engaged and valued member of the Lismore community. Edited by his great-great-granddaughter, Margaret Miller, the compilation includes images of McDougalls original handwritten letters from 1870 to 1888, related photographs and maps, a timeline of events, and family trees. The letters reveal a thoughtful man who cared deeply about his family and community, and include poignant reminders of the ways in which medicine, communications, and transportation have changed throughout the centuries. As McDougall shares his thoughts and wishes, his enduring human values are brought to the forefront as this devout, principled man managed to influence the development of communities in the United States through his descendants. My Dear Son shares a compelling collection of letters from a nineteenth century Scottish island weaver to his son, letting us hear his thoughts as he continues his life in Scotland while his son emigrates to America and begins anew.