The Interestings, by Meg
Wolitzer, is a compulsively readable new novel that chronicles the
lives of six precocious young people who meet as teens at a summer
camp for the arts, back in the 1970’s. They dub themselves “The
Interestings,” because that’s how they see themselves: bright,
clever, full of artistic talent and urgency. The assumption between
them, as well, is that with enough hard work and determination,
professional artistic success will be theirs in adulthood.
But we adults all know what comes next.
Wolitzer chronicles the characters’ lives through the next four
decades, as the characters learn first-hand, some more than others,
that what sets you on fire during adolescence and young adulthood
often isn’t enough to sustain you beyond your twenties, much less
your thirties and forties, no matter how compelling and special
it—and you—seemed in earlier years. Only a few of the friends are
allowed the luxury of actualizing their youthful vision, while the
others are forced to adjust and re-define goals, ever haunted by
“what once was,” and what will never be.
It’s a great read. I’ve long been
fan of Meg Wolitzer’s writing, but this story resonated
particularly with me, partly because that, too, defined my feelings
throughout adolescence, through middle age. My own solution has been
to write about the performing arts, and take ballet classes as an
adult. And now I wonder about my comrades in ballet class, those
other middle-aged adults I share a barre with. Do they share this,
too—a sense that they once had an extraordinary streak in them, an
artistic impulse, that might have gotten thwarted? A dream, perhaps,
once-crushed and now renewed?
Here’s my own “thwarted” story:
in my late teens, the fiery infatuation with ballet and the
performing arts kicked into full throttle. During my university years
I performed with a local dance company, an unforgettable experience
with a wonderful group of like-minded people. We were a Tribe. We,
too, were The Interestings. When I graduated from college, leaving
behind company and country for a job with the Peace Corps in Africa,
I fiercely told myself ballet wasn’t over. It couldn’t be. I
harbored no further illusions about being a performing arts
professional, but, at the least, I felt assured of a lifelong
nourishing relationship with ballet. There in provincial Africa, I
still clung to my ballet practice, stretching and giving myself a
comprehensive barre twice a week. I did so without fail throughout
those two years. Back home, in the Midwest, I eventually took on a
salaried job, unrelated to the arts. I lived too far away to return
to my former company and dance companions, but found, instead, a
well-regarded local studio with strong ballet classes and a solid
following. But the magic, unfathomably, began to slip away. Even
during class, I started to feel hollow, bereft. I remained an
outsider in this studio, a stranger, even after a year. Class became
something to dread at the end of a long, hard day of work. Yes, I
could have found yet another studio. But something else was dying,
that little frisson of well-being, the voice that whispered to me
that ballet would always be there for me, nourishing my soul. One day
it left and never came back. When, a few months later, I was promoted
and relocated to California, I said goodbye to family and ballet
alike. Out with the childish dreams and illusions. Moving on. I had a
real job now, responsibility, I told myself. A real life; an adult’s
life.
Over the next several years I grieved
losing ballet, even as I scorned it. It was like mourning a true love
who went on to be more faithful to someone else. For a long spell, I
couldn’t watch a ballet performance, even though now I could well
afford the tickets. It hurt too much. Besides, I told myself, that
was the past. Like the characters in The Interestings who’d
been forced to move on, I’d done just that.
And yet, if the urge is inherent in
you, you can’t just push it away. It will return, again and again.
And for me, it did. For a while, I ignored it. But a few years later,
when parenting clogged up my life, pushed me even further from a
nourishing, self-absorbing artistic place, I finally understood that
it was time to take back what I could. Anything I could. Without it,
without art in my life, the flickering candle flame inside my soul
would go out.
And so I went back to ballet.
And I found a home again.
We grown-ups at the barre all fall into
one of a few categories. There are those like myself, who danced when
we were younger, stopped for a while, and understood, only later,
that we needed to return. Others of us are there because we
didn’t do it when we were younger, due to circumstances beyond our
control, even though we’d longed to. Then there is a third
category, those who never even considered doing it in their youth,
due to other obligations, or body type, or gender, and now, in this
more evolved, actualized adult state, we realize that no one is going
to stop us, or harshly judge us, or point and snicker. A powerful
understanding kicks in: as an adult in a recreational ballet class,
anything goes. Anything. How liberating.
When I admit to people that, not only
do I take a ballet class, but I take violin lessons as well, as an
adult beginner, many of them share a common reaction. Their eyes will
widen, they’ll cock their heads at me and say, “Omigosh. How
interesting.” They sound both confused and impressed.
Because, of course, this is the kind of thing a kid does. Not the
mother of a kid. Not a middle aged adult who should be beyond that.
Oh, thank goodness for the impulse we
adult recreational dancers have, to keep life interesting and dynamic
through and beyond middle age. I do believe it would make the perfect
epilogue to Meg Wolitzer’s The Interestings. And truly,
nothing, to me, is more interesting than an adult who has wised up,
suffered setbacks, battled loss and disillusionment, and has returned
to address and conquer a dream, be it a long-held one, a brand new
one, or even an unnamed one. We grown-ups at the barre are The
Interestings, indeed.
Terez Mertes blogs at Classical Girl.
Terez Mertes blogs at Classical Girl.
Thank you so much, Johanna and Kaija, for letting me sing my little song here! : )
ReplyDeleteTerez, it's a beautiful "little song" - and we're happy to share it with other ballet peeps.. Thanks for agreeing to write for GUB!
DeleteBeautifully told! I'm so happy you brought ballet back into your life.
ReplyDeleteI returned to ballet after 25 years at age 50!I'll never stop again. Yesterday I bought a pair of pointe shoes. It's nice to see there are others that feel like me.
ReplyDeleteTammy, thanks so much for the lovely reply! And emigabdev, oh, an extra "yay!" that you, like me, are in that 50's age group. And I'm thrilled to hear you bought pointe shoes - I was wondering if we "50's and beyond" shouldn't consider things like that.
ReplyDeleteThank you, both of you, for taking the time to comment. I loved reading them both!
I'm not yet in the 50's age group, but I'm happy to know that I won't be alone.. :) Although, I love to dance with a (age-)mixed crowd!
DeleteAbout pointe: If the shoe fits, go for it! As long as you're backed up by solid technique, strength and adequate flexibility of the foot. And preferably a professional teacher who's had extensive experience teaching pointe, and knows about adult challenges.
By the way, I was a very late starter, but we have a lot of pointe-returners in class. Even some who thought they would never go back up on pointe again! :D
Thanks for commenting :)
Thank you for this inspiring account. I form part of the second group: as a child I was always intrigued and spellbound by ballet but never felt I'd fit in (circumstances, gender, social stereotypes, etc). As a grown-up man of 45 I finally overcame the barriers (real or perceived) to step into a ballet studio [I live near a university with school of dance where "adult beginner" classes are offered in the evenings]. Although I am - after some months of desultory attendance [work commitments]probably mostly the slowest student in class - I swear that I have never felt such intense joy at learning the graceful and elegant movements of ballet that have always captivated me.
ReplyDeleteKeith
Keith, your comments brought a big smile to my face. Bravo! I love reading stories like yours. I hear about, and observe, more adult males in ballet classes these days, and I think it’s a wonderful thing. (Great energy for the classroom when it's more co-ed!) I hope your words here persuade other adult males, pondering the possibility, to give it a shot.
ReplyDeleteOh my hat, you wrote my story verbatim. Except for the having kids bit. And that I'm *from* (South) Africa and didn't go to it... but other than that, it's like you were writing about me!
ReplyDeleteI was looking for some hints and tips for adult ballet dancers, as I'll be doing my RAD Intermediate in four weeks' time... eek! After many many years, at age 33 and a half, I'll finally be doing it - even if only for the personal sense of achievement
I'll keep you posted on my results...
Oh, what a delight this was to read, Blue-Haired Ballerina! So much fun, as a writer, to be told, "You took the words out of my mouth." Makes me feel happy [and relieved] and connected to others. Yes, do post details about your RAD experience! Especially on my personal blog, The Classical Girl, as I don't always remember to swing by here and check for comments. But seeing this comment was such a delight!
DeleteThis is an amazing post. I recently read The Interestings, and found that it really struck a chord. For myself, it was painting that I left behind as I "grew up," I am still slowly trying to get back into it. As for dance, I started as an adult because of a ballet and pony book from my childhood and because I wanted to try something completely new and unfamiliar with my body. That led me to aerial arts, which is one of my primary movement things now, but I still take an occasional ballet class to help with my lines!
ReplyDeleteJoyce - ooh, you read The Interestings, too? I love Meg Wolitzer's writing - she has an intuitive connection to the arts and the minds of people who participate in them (surely she followed that career/vocation path in younger years). I am wishing you oh, such wishes, that your journey back into painting goes well. And, BTW, I am all for "slowly." I am learning the violin more slowly than one could imagine. And I don't get to my ballet class nearly as much as I'd like to, or should. But, hey. Slow beats the heck out of just talking about it.
DeleteAnd now aerial arts - well, that is just SO way cool. Would love to hear more about THAT!
Thanks for taking the time to drop your nice message!
This was an amazing post. I'm new to your blog, and as an adult beginner at 39 (with one year of classes behind me) you nailed it. We can not fail...I have a dream of at least being able to dance pointe at the barre, and if it takes me 20 years, so be it. If there is a passion, Grown Ups at the Barre are unstopable.
ReplyDeleteLoved your comment, Karma007, and oh, it always does my heart good to hear someone say "I feel exactly the way you do." Or "you nailed it." So, right back atcha, and I love your spirit and dream and attitude!
ReplyDeleteRock on, fellow grown-up at the barre! : )
Thanks I really enjoyed this blog. My friend recently suggested a really cools site for barre class and so I found this really interesting. http://www.livefitnessandhealth.com.au
ReplyDeleteAmazing post and sums up what I've always tried to express when someone finds out that I returned to ballet in my mid 50's after stopping to help raise my daughters. I didn't realize I had lost a home until I returned to class.
ReplyDeleteYay, Kini, a fellow after-50 returner! I love your line "I didn't realize I had lost a home until I returned to class." Interesting to note, since I've been blogging about dance, these past 12 months, the "home" feeling has grown even stronger. It's like the ballet dancer of my youth and the writer of my later years has found the best home of all. (Doubly rewarding when I get to see comments like these!) And thanks, Avery, for your comment as well.
ReplyDeleteThey say that life begins at forty. It may be a cliche, but in today's baby boom world, the opportunity is really there! I also went back to ballet after a long stretch of years. Ballet is not only creatively fulfilling, artistic and classical, it is also a great physical and mental workout for flexibility, strength, and stress. Nothing de-stresses you as much as the slowness of adagio, or the allegro that gets your cardio going.
ReplyDeleteThe reason that we go back to the barre though is the aspiration - the dreams we had as a child. To wear that beautiful tutu, and dance the traditional ballets fuel every ballet aspiration of our imaginations.
As an adult,I still love it, and even published a book about ballet. It is a YA novel, due out in September, 2014, entitled "The Strength of Ballerinas." Even though the book concerns a teen and her journey, it also plays into the psyche of adults, who yearned to be in that top company as well. Adults as well as teens will enjoy my story, and, it was prompted my my own ballet experience and yearning!
Visit my web site to see it (and like it too). www.Nancy-Lorenzauthor.com.
I think that your web site is a great service to all those adults who embrace that childhood dream, and now get to live it, if not on stage at Lincoln Center, at least in their hearts!
Nancy, I love your comments, and I'm going to go check out your site and YA book!
ReplyDeletewow!!.. very inspiring post.. I have it in my wishlist. So far I have just had two months of ballet class, two years back. I want to get back to it as soon as possible..
ReplyDeleteLOVE! I started ballet at age 47, after five children...something for ME!
ReplyDeleteSimple girl and Genuine Lustre, thank you so much for taking the time to comment! Both of them are making me smile. Go, us!!! : )
ReplyDeleteNice topic! i'm a student and a beginner in ballet,i have a dream to become a professional dancer,your post inspire me so much! thank you for sharing!:)
ReplyDeleteJust saw this reply. Thank you, barre ballet, and wishing you the best! Remember, it's the journey, the joy of dancing, right in the moment, that will be your greatest reward, forever and ever. (And I'll bet you money, every professional out there will say that THAT continues to be their greatest satisfaction, too.)
ReplyDelete