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Fierce and Delicate: Essays on Dance and Illness
Memoir about ballet and illness from a creative writing teacher whose career as a ballerina was stopped by rheumatoid arthritis.
Renée Nicholson’s professional training in ballet had both moments of magnificence and moments of torment, from fittings of elaborate platter tutus to strange language barriers and unrealistic expectations of the body. In Fierce and Delicate, she looks back on the often confused and driven self she had been shaped into—always away from home, with friends who were also rivals, influenced by teachers in ways sometimes productive and at other times bordering on sadistic—and finds beauty in the small roles she performed. When, inevitably, Nicholson moved on from dancing, severed from her first love by illness, she discovered that she retained the lyricism and narrative of ballet itself as she negotiated life with rheumatoid arthritis.
An intentionally fractured memoir-in-essays, Fierce and Delicate navigates the traditional geographies of South Florida, northern Michigan, New York City, Milwaukee, West Virginia, and also geographies of the body—long, supple limbs; knee replacements; remembered bodies and actual. It is a book about the world of professional dance and also about living with chronic disease, about being shattered yet realizing the power to assemble oneself again, in a new way.
Renée Nicholson’s professional training in ballet had both moments of magnificence and moments of torment, from fittings of elaborate platter tutus to strange language barriers and unrealistic expectations of the body. In Fierce and Delicate, she looks back on the often confused and driven self she had been shaped into—always away from home, with friends who were also rivals, influenced by teachers in ways sometimes productive and at other times bordering on sadistic—and finds beauty in the small roles she performed. When, inevitably, Nicholson moved on from dancing, severed from her first love by illness, she discovered that she retained the lyricism and narrative of ballet itself as she negotiated life with rheumatoid arthritis.
An intentionally fractured memoir-in-essays, Fierce and Delicate navigates the traditional geographies of South Florida, northern Michigan, New York City, Milwaukee, West Virginia, and also geographies of the body—long, supple limbs; knee replacements; remembered bodies and actual. It is a book about the world of professional dance and also about living with chronic disease, about being shattered yet realizing the power to assemble oneself again, in a new way.
168 pages, Paperback
First published May 1, 2021
1 person is currently reading
396 people want to read
About the author
Renée K. Nicholson
6 books21 followersRenée K. Nicholson is the author of multiple poetry collections, including Feverdream (Redhawk Publishing 2026), Postscripts (Wild Ink Publishing, 2024), and Roundabout Directions to Lincoln Center (Urban Farmhouse Press, 2014), as well as the memoir-in-essays Fierce and Delicate: Essays on Dance and Illness (West Virginia University Press, 2021), a finalist for the Housatonic Prize in Nonfiction, and co-edited the award winning anthology Bodies of Truth: Personal Narratives of Illness, Disability, and Medicine (University of Nebraska Press, 2019). She is a nationally recognized voice in health humanities and narrative medicine, a freelance writer and humanities consultant, and faculty emerita at West Virginia University, where she served as Director of the WVU Humanities Center from 2020 to 2024.
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Displaying 1 - 26 of 26 reviews
September 19, 2021
This slim volume of personal essays dive into the author's love of dance, her growth as a dancer, her grief from the rheumatoid arthritis that caused her to be unable to dance, dealing with a disease that takes away the effortless control she had of her body as a dancer, and her (slow, messy, hesitant) rebirth as a writer and teacher and what it means to be more indirectly involved with the art that she loves. It felt like there were a few too many nostalgic "Dancer as self-doubting teenager" essays (although her chronicle of her time in Russia is great), but I was impressed that she avoided the cliché redemption motif when writing about her current teaching. What shines through in all of these stories in the joy in the work and the learning and the self-expression that seems common both to good writing and good dancing.
**Thanks to the author, publisher, and NetGalley for a free copy in exchange for an honest review.
**Thanks to the author, publisher, and NetGalley for a free copy in exchange for an honest review.
May 18, 2021
As a woman who grew through childhood training to become a ballet dancer under the tutelage of ‘Madame’, who herself trained at the Royal School of Ballet in London, I loved Renée K. Nicholson’s beautiful and candid memoir-in-essays, ‘Fierce and Delicate’.
As a seven-year-old girl I dreamed of becoming a prima ballerina dancing at the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden. My childhood dreams were shortlived when ‘Madame’ advised me that I was too short to become a ballerina.
Thinking back on the many ballets I’ve watched and all I’ve read, it’s highly unlikely that I would’ve had the discipline, stamina, fierceness and passion in the face of relentless physical exhaustion and pain to live the life of a professional dancer. Nicholson writes about her dancing career being cut short by the development of rheumatoid arthritis and how this necessitated adjustments to her life.
Her lyrical and relentlessly honest essay collection is an exercise in fine reading whether or not you’ve had any dancing experience. If you would like to learn more about the lives of dancers, I highly recommend ‘Fierce and Delicate’.
Renée E. D’Aoust, the author of ‘Body of a Dancer’ writes: “Many dancers wrestle with one of the central questions of Renée Nicholson’s fabulous book: How does one live as an ex-dancer? The answers Nicholson explores will strongly resonate with those who long to lift the veil that shrouds creative pursuits in unnecessary mystique. I love Nicholson’s powerful prose: how the essays circle in and out of dance, the way movement comes alive on the page, and the articulate grace with which Nicholson writes about sudden disability. In ‘Fierce and Delicate’, Nicholson teaches us how to envelop our impossible dreams with gratitude for the life we have now.”
At the head of the author’s website are the words “create something extraordinary”. I believe she has done this with her essay collection.
A huge thank you to @NetGalley and @WVUPRESS for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
As a seven-year-old girl I dreamed of becoming a prima ballerina dancing at the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden. My childhood dreams were shortlived when ‘Madame’ advised me that I was too short to become a ballerina.
Thinking back on the many ballets I’ve watched and all I’ve read, it’s highly unlikely that I would’ve had the discipline, stamina, fierceness and passion in the face of relentless physical exhaustion and pain to live the life of a professional dancer. Nicholson writes about her dancing career being cut short by the development of rheumatoid arthritis and how this necessitated adjustments to her life.
Her lyrical and relentlessly honest essay collection is an exercise in fine reading whether or not you’ve had any dancing experience. If you would like to learn more about the lives of dancers, I highly recommend ‘Fierce and Delicate’.
Renée E. D’Aoust, the author of ‘Body of a Dancer’ writes: “Many dancers wrestle with one of the central questions of Renée Nicholson’s fabulous book: How does one live as an ex-dancer? The answers Nicholson explores will strongly resonate with those who long to lift the veil that shrouds creative pursuits in unnecessary mystique. I love Nicholson’s powerful prose: how the essays circle in and out of dance, the way movement comes alive on the page, and the articulate grace with which Nicholson writes about sudden disability. In ‘Fierce and Delicate’, Nicholson teaches us how to envelop our impossible dreams with gratitude for the life we have now.”
At the head of the author’s website are the words “create something extraordinary”. I believe she has done this with her essay collection.
A huge thank you to @NetGalley and @WVUPRESS for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
May 13, 2021
Thank you to NetGalley for providing this in exchange for an honest review.
I was shocked when I read the other Goodreads reviews for this book- this was a touching, heart wrenching, and thoughtful memoir of a difficult relationship with ballet. It is a memoir, it's not a study or scientific paper; it is a brutally honest set of memories of an artform that often decimates its artists.
Nicholson doesn't hide her challenges and setbacks, she doesn't make ballet appear as an angelic and easy path to take, as so many do. (We often see the "I just worked really really hard and it happened" narrative.) She also celebrates what she has learned and gained from ballet, and the positives that we can all take away from it.
I could not put this book down, and whether you are a dancer or someone interested in ballet, this is book you need to read!
I was shocked when I read the other Goodreads reviews for this book- this was a touching, heart wrenching, and thoughtful memoir of a difficult relationship with ballet. It is a memoir, it's not a study or scientific paper; it is a brutally honest set of memories of an artform that often decimates its artists.
Nicholson doesn't hide her challenges and setbacks, she doesn't make ballet appear as an angelic and easy path to take, as so many do. (We often see the "I just worked really really hard and it happened" narrative.) She also celebrates what she has learned and gained from ballet, and the positives that we can all take away from it.
I could not put this book down, and whether you are a dancer or someone interested in ballet, this is book you need to read!
May 13, 2021
I really enjoyed this book. As a former ballet dancer myself I was taken back to early days of dance classes. I found it so relatable. The author captures the beauty and grace yet at the same time capturing all the contradictions of the reality of the work and sweat and competition.
I loved this quote from her, "Ballet sets an impossible standard. It is erotic. Beguiling. Sexy. Demure. Slender. Extended. Driven. A composed surface, insecurity underneath. As a dancer I loved and hated myself."
She writes beautifully and I would read another memoir from her if she writes one.
I loved this quote from her, "Ballet sets an impossible standard. It is erotic. Beguiling. Sexy. Demure. Slender. Extended. Driven. A composed surface, insecurity underneath. As a dancer I loved and hated myself."
She writes beautifully and I would read another memoir from her if she writes one.
April 2, 2021
Fierce and Delicate is Nicholson's memoir meditating on her life as a dancer and as someone whose early rheumatoid arthritis diagnosis cut short her plans to dance professionally. The biggest issue I had with Fierce and Delicate is that it often felt like Nicholson skirted away from making meaningful connections. There was a shallowness to both the essays individually and the collection as a whole that left me wanting. Also, in the earliest chapters detailing her younger life, mentions of pedophilia/grooming and disordered eating were so casually cast that they bordered on not taking such issues seriously. Overall, I felt that more engagement in the text was necessary for this to be a truly standout memoir.
February 18, 2022
What a beautiful book! The fragmented nature of illness combined with essays about dance and writing works to create a stunning collection. The braid of those 3 topics carries throughout each essay in subtle and complex ways. I enjoyed each essay more than the next.
June 11, 2021
Do you know someone living with RA?
Fierce and Delicate: Essays on Dance and Illness by Renee Nicholson is contains stories from her childhood as a dancer to her adult life as a writer. I enjoyed the intentionally fractured paragraphs and stories. You can pick up the book and read any one quickly so that it’s perfect for busy readers. I related to the stories about her ballet training, not because I have any dancing abilities whatsoever, but as a dance mom. My daughter loves dance and will spend her summer in the studio anywhere from 4-9 hours a day. One of her quotes resonated with me: “Dance like you are the most beautiful creature that ever existed, even when-no-especially when your practice tutu is dirty and your pointe shoes are dead and you feel all but spent.” This competition season some parents didn’t let their kids compete because spectators weren’t allowed due to COVID. They didn’t want to “pay all that money and I can’t even watch my kid dance”. Our daughter wanted to compete no matter what so she did and I tried to watch her on my phone using the hotels spotty internet. She loved it and that’s all that mattered. I also related to Renee as someone with a chronic illness. “I’d shaped myself through technique, good eating habits, Pilates, and determination. Now my body truly was an enemy, not something I might, through training and self-discipline, conquer”. I loved seeing her success in life despite her RA and it inspired me to persevere.
Fierce and Delicate: Essays on Dance and Illness by Renee Nicholson is contains stories from her childhood as a dancer to her adult life as a writer. I enjoyed the intentionally fractured paragraphs and stories. You can pick up the book and read any one quickly so that it’s perfect for busy readers. I related to the stories about her ballet training, not because I have any dancing abilities whatsoever, but as a dance mom. My daughter loves dance and will spend her summer in the studio anywhere from 4-9 hours a day. One of her quotes resonated with me: “Dance like you are the most beautiful creature that ever existed, even when-no-especially when your practice tutu is dirty and your pointe shoes are dead and you feel all but spent.” This competition season some parents didn’t let their kids compete because spectators weren’t allowed due to COVID. They didn’t want to “pay all that money and I can’t even watch my kid dance”. Our daughter wanted to compete no matter what so she did and I tried to watch her on my phone using the hotels spotty internet. She loved it and that’s all that mattered. I also related to Renee as someone with a chronic illness. “I’d shaped myself through technique, good eating habits, Pilates, and determination. Now my body truly was an enemy, not something I might, through training and self-discipline, conquer”. I loved seeing her success in life despite her RA and it inspired me to persevere.
January 19, 2022
Tombé pas de bourrée, glissade...
If you never studied ballet, you might recognize the above as French. If you did, you know these steps are a precursor to liftoff: elevating, rising, even flying. How many of us can say we've almost flown under our own power? Great athletes, ballet dancers among them. But of course dancers do it with grace and (and here's the rub) seeming ease.
Great ballet, like great writing, looks easy. But we know that behind the curtain, as in the countless drafts of a book, tireless preparation and practice went into making the art seem easy. Here, Renée Nicholson has achieved an art in imitation--and exploration--of another art: her essays lift of the page with the ease of a grand jeté across the stage.
Some lyric, some more fractured (almost staccato), with depth and humor both (and aplomb, always aplomb), Nicholson's essays form a cohesive and very satisfying memoir. Her story takes the reader along with her from her youth as a ballet student through to the roles she inhabits today as a dance teacher and writer. We travel with young Nicholson to Russia to train with the best. We see her navigate friendships and romantic relationships. We witness her grappling with her body, shaped by ballet and then reshaped by illness. We see her develop her writing, capturing both her art and her struggles with chronic disease on the page. We see her teach other students of ballet, as she was taught, and ascend all the while, if in new ways.
The ballet world is one of beauty, and Nicholson gives us a backstage pass to all of it in this book. There is the beauty the audiences sees--the fairy tale, the costumes under lights--and then there's what lies in the shadows. The author says it succinctly: at a young age, she says, "I was learning an ugly truth about ballet, that part of my success was being an object of desire."
And so how to recover from such heights? How to move on from a youth spent beautifully flying? Nicholson (like this former student of ballet) cut her hair. Then, she enrolled in a creative writing program, "focusing on...those things that released you from your body." I love Nicholson's use of the second-person POV in this particular essay, "Hair: A Short History," because it lets the reader in. How many of us have left a passion behind, only to find it still lives in our muscle memory and in our dreams?
From the expressive to the super-direct--"More than anything, I don't want to be sick."--Nicholson's varied tone, perspectives, and foci combine to form a multi-faceted world. And isn't that what we as readers want? To live in a new world for a while, to inhabit a new body, to feel it fly?
While you certainly could read these essays one at a time, in no particular order, I read this memoir feverishly, start to finish--my favorite summer read for the hard-fought joy found in every essay.
Nicholson has done this wondrous thing for us readers here. "At its essence, I believe dancing is about joy," she writes. Yes, I felt great joy in reading this book. Sure, I felt the old ballet-longing too, because my body will no longer fly like it once did. But mostly joy.
I'm recommending this book to every reader I know, and you should, too.
If you never studied ballet, you might recognize the above as French. If you did, you know these steps are a precursor to liftoff: elevating, rising, even flying. How many of us can say we've almost flown under our own power? Great athletes, ballet dancers among them. But of course dancers do it with grace and (and here's the rub) seeming ease.
Great ballet, like great writing, looks easy. But we know that behind the curtain, as in the countless drafts of a book, tireless preparation and practice went into making the art seem easy. Here, Renée Nicholson has achieved an art in imitation--and exploration--of another art: her essays lift of the page with the ease of a grand jeté across the stage.
Some lyric, some more fractured (almost staccato), with depth and humor both (and aplomb, always aplomb), Nicholson's essays form a cohesive and very satisfying memoir. Her story takes the reader along with her from her youth as a ballet student through to the roles she inhabits today as a dance teacher and writer. We travel with young Nicholson to Russia to train with the best. We see her navigate friendships and romantic relationships. We witness her grappling with her body, shaped by ballet and then reshaped by illness. We see her develop her writing, capturing both her art and her struggles with chronic disease on the page. We see her teach other students of ballet, as she was taught, and ascend all the while, if in new ways.
The ballet world is one of beauty, and Nicholson gives us a backstage pass to all of it in this book. There is the beauty the audiences sees--the fairy tale, the costumes under lights--and then there's what lies in the shadows. The author says it succinctly: at a young age, she says, "I was learning an ugly truth about ballet, that part of my success was being an object of desire."
And so how to recover from such heights? How to move on from a youth spent beautifully flying? Nicholson (like this former student of ballet) cut her hair. Then, she enrolled in a creative writing program, "focusing on...those things that released you from your body." I love Nicholson's use of the second-person POV in this particular essay, "Hair: A Short History," because it lets the reader in. How many of us have left a passion behind, only to find it still lives in our muscle memory and in our dreams?
From the expressive to the super-direct--"More than anything, I don't want to be sick."--Nicholson's varied tone, perspectives, and foci combine to form a multi-faceted world. And isn't that what we as readers want? To live in a new world for a while, to inhabit a new body, to feel it fly?
While you certainly could read these essays one at a time, in no particular order, I read this memoir feverishly, start to finish--my favorite summer read for the hard-fought joy found in every essay.
Nicholson has done this wondrous thing for us readers here. "At its essence, I believe dancing is about joy," she writes. Yes, I felt great joy in reading this book. Sure, I felt the old ballet-longing too, because my body will no longer fly like it once did. But mostly joy.
I'm recommending this book to every reader I know, and you should, too.
July 20, 2021
Originally published on my book blog, TheBibliophage.com.
Renée Nicholson writes about two different parts of her life in Fierce and Delicate: Essays on Dance and Illness. Initially, she’s the young dancer making sense of competition, instructor corrections, and visions of the future. As the essays progress, Nicholson explains her life with Rheumatoid Arthritis (RA), which radically changed her ballet dreams. Still, she skillfully combines her two loves—writing and ballet—into an inspiring memoir told in distinct essays.
Nicholson inhabits that younger version of herself in the first group of essays. While reading, I honestly thought she wasn’t the mature writer that she is. Instead, her perspective seemed entirely youthful with its angst and uncertainties.
But as the book progresses, I realized that Nicholson is indeed a woman with more experience. Her fundamental voice is the same in all the essays, but they become more tinged with maturity as they progress.
How the author navigates her RA is an important part of the book, but it’s not the whole story. In my experience, writing about chronic illness is like dancing in a perfectly straight line. Sounding whiney is on one side of that line, and Nicholson never crosses it. Instead, she simply shows resilience and grace.
Fierce and Delicate also reminded me of brilliant 20th century dancers I loved in my youth. My mom, grandma, and I attended as much ballet as we could afford. And Nicolson’s discussion of learning to teach when you can’t dance is a truth about aging that touched my 50-something heart.
My conclusions
Nicholson writes with focus and skill. Every essay is tightly crafted, and every paragraph has a purpose. Some memoirs just spew language from brain to page. Maybe this started that way, but Nicholson took that first draft and drilled it into shape like a prima ballerina’s most valued teacher creates perfect form.
This is a book I found because of a publicist. (What a privilege book blogging is!) Sadly, it won’t get a big marketing campaign or book tour. But if you love dance, live with chronic illness, or understand the challenges of remaking life as it progresses, you must seek this out.
Pair with another book about dance, life, and chronic illness—Battle for Grace: A Memoir of Pain, Redemption and Impossible Love by Cynthia Toussaint.
Acknowledgements
Many thanks to West Virginia University Press, Books Forward, and the author for a digital advanced reader’s copy in exchange for this honest review.
Renée Nicholson writes about two different parts of her life in Fierce and Delicate: Essays on Dance and Illness. Initially, she’s the young dancer making sense of competition, instructor corrections, and visions of the future. As the essays progress, Nicholson explains her life with Rheumatoid Arthritis (RA), which radically changed her ballet dreams. Still, she skillfully combines her two loves—writing and ballet—into an inspiring memoir told in distinct essays.
Nicholson inhabits that younger version of herself in the first group of essays. While reading, I honestly thought she wasn’t the mature writer that she is. Instead, her perspective seemed entirely youthful with its angst and uncertainties.
But as the book progresses, I realized that Nicholson is indeed a woman with more experience. Her fundamental voice is the same in all the essays, but they become more tinged with maturity as they progress.
How the author navigates her RA is an important part of the book, but it’s not the whole story. In my experience, writing about chronic illness is like dancing in a perfectly straight line. Sounding whiney is on one side of that line, and Nicholson never crosses it. Instead, she simply shows resilience and grace.
Fierce and Delicate also reminded me of brilliant 20th century dancers I loved in my youth. My mom, grandma, and I attended as much ballet as we could afford. And Nicolson’s discussion of learning to teach when you can’t dance is a truth about aging that touched my 50-something heart.
My conclusions
Nicholson writes with focus and skill. Every essay is tightly crafted, and every paragraph has a purpose. Some memoirs just spew language from brain to page. Maybe this started that way, but Nicholson took that first draft and drilled it into shape like a prima ballerina’s most valued teacher creates perfect form.
This is a book I found because of a publicist. (What a privilege book blogging is!) Sadly, it won’t get a big marketing campaign or book tour. But if you love dance, live with chronic illness, or understand the challenges of remaking life as it progresses, you must seek this out.
Pair with another book about dance, life, and chronic illness—Battle for Grace: A Memoir of Pain, Redemption and Impossible Love by Cynthia Toussaint.
Acknowledgements
Many thanks to West Virginia University Press, Books Forward, and the author for a digital advanced reader’s copy in exchange for this honest review.
October 11, 2021
This is actually a collection of essays, not short stories, but do I want to make another shelf for the six books of essays I ever read? No.
I found this in one of the six Little Free Libraries that are scattered about my neighbourhood (yes, this is a dangerous situation for me) and took it home, thinking of giving it to a friend who did ballet and now has a chronic illness. Then I couldn't sleep, so I read it.
I am not sure it's for her, but I'm glad I picked it up, although I am neither a dancer nor someone with a chronic illness: how do you grapple with the loss of something that has become you? How do you handle constricting limits, of body and mind, with long-term dis-ease, with saying goodbye to something you love with your whole heart? I resonate with these questions. I appreciate Nicholson's shining love of dance, and her lack of self-pity as she talks about her journey from dancer to ex-dancer. While this collection is not perfect - some of the essays are tighter than others, and you never feel as though Nicholson is letting you quite all the way in - I learned, I thought, and I grew a bit as a result of reading it. I think that is what essays are for.
I found this in one of the six Little Free Libraries that are scattered about my neighbourhood (yes, this is a dangerous situation for me) and took it home, thinking of giving it to a friend who did ballet and now has a chronic illness. Then I couldn't sleep, so I read it.
I am not sure it's for her, but I'm glad I picked it up, although I am neither a dancer nor someone with a chronic illness: how do you grapple with the loss of something that has become you? How do you handle constricting limits, of body and mind, with long-term dis-ease, with saying goodbye to something you love with your whole heart? I resonate with these questions. I appreciate Nicholson's shining love of dance, and her lack of self-pity as she talks about her journey from dancer to ex-dancer. While this collection is not perfect - some of the essays are tighter than others, and you never feel as though Nicholson is letting you quite all the way in - I learned, I thought, and I grew a bit as a result of reading it. I think that is what essays are for.
December 7, 2022
Through a series of emotional and exceptionally written essays, Renee K. Nicholson’s Fierce and Delicate really sets the bar high. Each essay she includes contributes a piece of her story for the audience that are bonded together to demonstrate a tale of triumph and struggle that can be studied and shared. Nicholson has a very natural way of writing that allows for the grounding and understanding of her story alongside the powerful personal accounts and the vivid glimpse into her life. Even as someone who has never been interested in dance, I loved this book! I highly recommend it to anyone looking for an emotional and interesting read by a talented author.
January 11, 2021
This is a memoir about a ballet dancer who has rheumatoid arthritis and has to stop dancing. The first half was strongest. The first third describes her time as a ballerina, going to ballet camps and studying abroad in Russia, etc. It then describes how bereft she felt when she had to stop dancing. The second half is a collection of essays about what happens after the events in the first half, with ballet as a thread. An older professor that teaches at the same university she does and also used to be in ballet. Taking a class to be a certified ballet teacher. I feel like some engagement with disability theory would've greatly enriched the text, particularly in the second half.
December 5, 2022
In ‘Fierce and Delicate’, Renee K Nicholson sheds light on her life as a professional ballet dancer and her struggle with RA. She writes beautifully, and this collection of essays was poignant and emotional as well as engaging. Renee has an ability to transport us into her lived experiences in a lyrical and thoughtful way, and I truly enjoyed reading this. This book is an incredible journey through the life of a dancer and I highly recommend it!
May 22, 2023
3.5 stars
June 22, 2021
I received a free copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
I'll start by saying that the moment I heard this book was coming out, I knew I had to read it. I, myself, was a ballet student when I was young, and the experience shaped my whole life, even though I had to quit at a young age. I still have pretty much the entire Nutcracker Ballet memorized. When I was in ballet it was my whole world. Like the author of this memoir, I had to leave ballet (and gymnastics, which I also loved) due to my progressing chronic illness, though in my case my illness was life-long and I had to quit while I was still a kid.
Reading the early chapters on Nicholson's early experiences in ballet felt like someone writing about my own life. And then reading about her early struggles with learning that she had arthritis and trying to cope with it... well, my experience was a little different because I always knew I was sick, but it was still extremely identifiable to me.
In later chapters she discusses her experiences in academia, as a dance teacher and as a writer. Once again, I can identify. I don't know enough about dance to teach it, but I have worked in academia most of my adult life.
Basically, I feel that I have such a close personal connection to the experiences shared in this book that it is impossible for me to look at the book objectively like some other reviewers have done. And that's okay because I feel like I might be the one person in the world for whom this book was written.
So if you, too, have personal experiences with ballet or with quitting your passion due to disability, this book may be just right for you. I enjoyed it and found it very readable, though as I said, I was eager to read it because it felt almost like I was reading my own life story.
There are a few trigger/content warnings: as this book is about ballet, there is some mention of disordered eating. There is also some description of medical procedures, surgeries, etc. and there's a bit of ableism (I felt like the author was going through some soul searching and internalized ableism). There's also a chapter where she mentions visiting Russia and talking to Romani people, but she uses the common slur used to describe them.
The full review can be found on my blog.
I'll start by saying that the moment I heard this book was coming out, I knew I had to read it. I, myself, was a ballet student when I was young, and the experience shaped my whole life, even though I had to quit at a young age. I still have pretty much the entire Nutcracker Ballet memorized. When I was in ballet it was my whole world. Like the author of this memoir, I had to leave ballet (and gymnastics, which I also loved) due to my progressing chronic illness, though in my case my illness was life-long and I had to quit while I was still a kid.
Reading the early chapters on Nicholson's early experiences in ballet felt like someone writing about my own life. And then reading about her early struggles with learning that she had arthritis and trying to cope with it... well, my experience was a little different because I always knew I was sick, but it was still extremely identifiable to me.
In later chapters she discusses her experiences in academia, as a dance teacher and as a writer. Once again, I can identify. I don't know enough about dance to teach it, but I have worked in academia most of my adult life.
Basically, I feel that I have such a close personal connection to the experiences shared in this book that it is impossible for me to look at the book objectively like some other reviewers have done. And that's okay because I feel like I might be the one person in the world for whom this book was written.
So if you, too, have personal experiences with ballet or with quitting your passion due to disability, this book may be just right for you. I enjoyed it and found it very readable, though as I said, I was eager to read it because it felt almost like I was reading my own life story.
There are a few trigger/content warnings: as this book is about ballet, there is some mention of disordered eating. There is also some description of medical procedures, surgeries, etc. and there's a bit of ableism (I felt like the author was going through some soul searching and internalized ableism). There's also a chapter where she mentions visiting Russia and talking to Romani people, but she uses the common slur used to describe them.
The full review can be found on my blog.
April 2, 2021
This book is about Renee's journey from being a baby ballerina to a professional to giving it all up because her RA then finding herself in other ways.
The description promises a bit more drama glamour and emphasis on the ballerina phase but in reality much of it is focused on the post-ballet days - finding her new niche. This was a quick read and I always love ballet stories - I understand how strong ballerinas are and how hard the battle to become a professional is. The essays felt a little bit forced, like the writer wanted to create drama and emphasis where it didn't need to be..it felt like she was trying a bit too hard.
I do appreciate her journey and all that she has accomplished, this series of essays just felt a tad flat for me.
Dance, illness, theater, writing, non-fiction, essays.
* I received an arc in exchange for an honest review*
The description promises a bit more drama glamour and emphasis on the ballerina phase but in reality much of it is focused on the post-ballet days - finding her new niche. This was a quick read and I always love ballet stories - I understand how strong ballerinas are and how hard the battle to become a professional is. The essays felt a little bit forced, like the writer wanted to create drama and emphasis where it didn't need to be..it felt like she was trying a bit too hard.
I do appreciate her journey and all that she has accomplished, this series of essays just felt a tad flat for me.
Dance, illness, theater, writing, non-fiction, essays.
* I received an arc in exchange for an honest review*
September 13, 2021
West Virginia University Press asked me to write a blurb (find it on the inside cover of the book!):
Many dancers wrestle with one of the central questions of Renée Nicholson’s fabulous book: “How does one live as an ex-dancer?” The answers Nicholson explores will strongly resonate with those who long to lift the veil that shrouds creative pursuits in unnecessary mystique. I love Nicholson’s powerful prose: how the essays circle in and out of dance, the way movement comes alive on the page, and the articulate grace with which Nicholson writes about sudden disability. In Fierce and Delicate, Nicholson teaches us how to envelope our impossible dreams with gratitude for the life we have now.
—Renée E. D’Aoust
Many dancers wrestle with one of the central questions of Renée Nicholson’s fabulous book: “How does one live as an ex-dancer?” The answers Nicholson explores will strongly resonate with those who long to lift the veil that shrouds creative pursuits in unnecessary mystique. I love Nicholson’s powerful prose: how the essays circle in and out of dance, the way movement comes alive on the page, and the articulate grace with which Nicholson writes about sudden disability. In Fierce and Delicate, Nicholson teaches us how to envelope our impossible dreams with gratitude for the life we have now.
—Renée E. D’Aoust
March 22, 2021
This book is about a girl’s adventures while studying ballet. She later is diagnosed with RA and she shares her struggles through the failings of her body and how that changes her ability to perform. This story truly spoke to me as a former dancer. I was raised in the world of dance, and the author does an excellent job of describing the equal parts stress and love for this art form. Anyone who has dealt with injury or disability can relate, but what set this book apart for me was how I empathized with her since I know as a dancer it is such a therapeutic outlet and to have that taken away was crushing.
October 26, 2021
Fierce and Delicate: Essays on Dance and Illness recounts Renée K. Nicholson’s journey to become a professional ballet dancer, as well as the early retirement she was forced to take after being diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis (R.A.) at the age of twenty-one.
Rest assured, you don’t have to understand or enjoy anything about ballet to appreciate the passion and dedication Nicholson has displayed for the art form for nearly her entire life.
I identified with Nicholson’s dream of becoming the best athlete in her field, her years of sacrificing a personal life, and pushing her body to its absolute limit in order to achieve that dream. And sadly, I know all too well what it’s like to have a chronic illness get in the way of accomplishing your athletic goals. Nicholson describes the heartbreak that comes with acknowledging that no matter how hard you’ve worked, how talented you are, or how long you’ve dreamed of achieving your goals, your willpower and determination are no match for an incurable autoimmune disease’s relentless attack on your body.
Nicholson’s essays cover her years of ballet training, competition, and performance, how the art form focuses on perfection (in both one’s ballet technique and physical appearance), her struggles to form true friendships with her fellow competitors, her R.A. diagnosis and decision to stop dancing, how she decided to become a writer, and ultimately, her journey back to dance.
Because the book is a collection of essays as opposed to a more traditional memoir, at times I did find it a bit difficult to keep the timeline of events straight in my mind as I continued reading.
I also felt as if Nicholson still has a bit of unresolved resentment/anger toward her illness and her forced early retirement. While that is completely understandable, it does her memoir a disservice. Nicholson so eloquently expresses her love of and devotion to dance throughout the book, and even recognizes that by writing about dance, she continues to have a meaningful artistic outlet in her life. Unfortunately, when she addresses her R.A. diagnosis and how it’s affected her physical and mental health, the passages feel far curter and emotionally removed.
Again, while I can commiserate with Nicholson saying she doesn’t want to be pitied, that her pride has kept her from asking for or accepting others’ help, and that she’s felt a deep resentment of the fact that her body derailed her dreams, my sincerest wish is that she works through those feelings on a deeper level and finds some peace in her life with a chronic illness. It will undoubtedly help both her creative nonfiction writing as well as her own mental health and wellbeing.
Otherwise, the book is a beautiful tribute to an art form that clearly shaped Renée Nicholson’s life a great deal.
Story Circle Book Reviews thanks Katherine Itacy for this review.
Rest assured, you don’t have to understand or enjoy anything about ballet to appreciate the passion and dedication Nicholson has displayed for the art form for nearly her entire life.
I identified with Nicholson’s dream of becoming the best athlete in her field, her years of sacrificing a personal life, and pushing her body to its absolute limit in order to achieve that dream. And sadly, I know all too well what it’s like to have a chronic illness get in the way of accomplishing your athletic goals. Nicholson describes the heartbreak that comes with acknowledging that no matter how hard you’ve worked, how talented you are, or how long you’ve dreamed of achieving your goals, your willpower and determination are no match for an incurable autoimmune disease’s relentless attack on your body.
Nicholson’s essays cover her years of ballet training, competition, and performance, how the art form focuses on perfection (in both one’s ballet technique and physical appearance), her struggles to form true friendships with her fellow competitors, her R.A. diagnosis and decision to stop dancing, how she decided to become a writer, and ultimately, her journey back to dance.
Because the book is a collection of essays as opposed to a more traditional memoir, at times I did find it a bit difficult to keep the timeline of events straight in my mind as I continued reading.
I also felt as if Nicholson still has a bit of unresolved resentment/anger toward her illness and her forced early retirement. While that is completely understandable, it does her memoir a disservice. Nicholson so eloquently expresses her love of and devotion to dance throughout the book, and even recognizes that by writing about dance, she continues to have a meaningful artistic outlet in her life. Unfortunately, when she addresses her R.A. diagnosis and how it’s affected her physical and mental health, the passages feel far curter and emotionally removed.
Again, while I can commiserate with Nicholson saying she doesn’t want to be pitied, that her pride has kept her from asking for or accepting others’ help, and that she’s felt a deep resentment of the fact that her body derailed her dreams, my sincerest wish is that she works through those feelings on a deeper level and finds some peace in her life with a chronic illness. It will undoubtedly help both her creative nonfiction writing as well as her own mental health and wellbeing.
Otherwise, the book is a beautiful tribute to an art form that clearly shaped Renée Nicholson’s life a great deal.
Story Circle Book Reviews thanks Katherine Itacy for this review.
Read
August 21, 2021Fierce and Delicate: Essays on Dance and Illness is a book by Renée K. Nicholson about her experience as a young, talented aspiring ballerina, about the rheumatoid arthritis that began devastating her body in her early 20s, and about her reinvention as a writer and ballet instructor.
It was a good book that I think could have been either shorter or gone a little deeper. The beginning was superb, charged with her love for ballet and her experiences struggling to make friends in a world of competition, of strange experiences with the patriarchal vibe of ballet, the pressure to be both innocent and inaccessible, and desired and sexual. Her descriptions of her devastation and feelings of betrayal when her joints began to ache and swell, when the pain arrived and her body no matter obeyed her, were emotional and effective.
The second half often seemed to skim across the shallow edge of her experiences, hinting at her feelings around dance and her RA. I would have been fascinated to dive deeper into her struggle with being disabled, her discomfort with it, her pain at watching her body change. She skates over several bigger issues and questions—she calls her young ballerina self borderline anorexic and describes disordered eating, without ever delving as deep as I hoped she would; I'd be curious to hear the long-term impressions made by the grooming and abuse in the community.
Long excerpts in the 2nd half of the book dedicated to pedagogy and even her impressions of NYC could have been cut to make room for such things. In places, she seemed determined to add a sense of snark or drama where none was needed, and it felt particularly strange when I compared it to those moments where she skirted over big issues.
That said, selected essays in this volume are superb for their insights into the dance world, and into the struggle of RA and its impact on her body and her relationship with that body.
Content warnings for grooming, sexual abuse, sexual harassment, eating disorder, body shaming, use of the G-slur.
It was a good book that I think could have been either shorter or gone a little deeper. The beginning was superb, charged with her love for ballet and her experiences struggling to make friends in a world of competition, of strange experiences with the patriarchal vibe of ballet, the pressure to be both innocent and inaccessible, and desired and sexual. Her descriptions of her devastation and feelings of betrayal when her joints began to ache and swell, when the pain arrived and her body no matter obeyed her, were emotional and effective.
The second half often seemed to skim across the shallow edge of her experiences, hinting at her feelings around dance and her RA. I would have been fascinated to dive deeper into her struggle with being disabled, her discomfort with it, her pain at watching her body change. She skates over several bigger issues and questions—she calls her young ballerina self borderline anorexic and describes disordered eating, without ever delving as deep as I hoped she would; I'd be curious to hear the long-term impressions made by the grooming and abuse in the community.
Long excerpts in the 2nd half of the book dedicated to pedagogy and even her impressions of NYC could have been cut to make room for such things. In places, she seemed determined to add a sense of snark or drama where none was needed, and it felt particularly strange when I compared it to those moments where she skirted over big issues.
That said, selected essays in this volume are superb for their insights into the dance world, and into the struggle of RA and its impact on her body and her relationship with that body.
Content warnings for grooming, sexual abuse, sexual harassment, eating disorder, body shaming, use of the G-slur.
March 24, 2021
I got this book for the ballet. To get a look behind the curtain and what it actually takes to make it to the stage. The teachers, the training, the dieting, the abuse on the body, mind and soul. The other dancers, the mayhem backstage, the mayhem on stage, what happens when someone falls. The costumes, the patrons, the men, the lavish parties afterwards.
I'm glad all of this was touched on lightly but I really wanted more. The majority of this book is about the author's illness and her journey after ballet. It would definitely be an encouraging read for those going through a similar experience, to know that there is life after dance and there is also life when living with a chronic illness.
*Thank you to the West Virginia University Press, the author and NetGalley for granting me access to an e-arc in exchange for an honest review.
I'm glad all of this was touched on lightly but I really wanted more. The majority of this book is about the author's illness and her journey after ballet. It would definitely be an encouraging read for those going through a similar experience, to know that there is life after dance and there is also life when living with a chronic illness.
*Thank you to the West Virginia University Press, the author and NetGalley for granting me access to an e-arc in exchange for an honest review.
April 1, 2021
I wanted to read this book because I’m a former dancer, and I was excited to access a personal account of a retired ballerina’s career and life. This book brings up a lot of the negative things that come along with dance, such as body image issues and pain from overuse. The unglamorous parts of the dance world are important to understand and this narrative goes into the impacts of that world after one is no longer dancing. It’s a good choice to read if you don’t know much about dance, or if you know a lot about dance. However, the essays are dark and it is not an uplifting read. I’m impressed that the author reflected on and shared such personal experiences.
I received an eARC from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
I received an eARC from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
November 10, 2021
I read this book thanks to NetGalley. I jump into it the moment I read the description, I've been reading ballet-related books, especially biographies more often since I enjoy a lot the different views of this hard and beautiful world.
I had some problems following the rhythm of the book since there are many moments involved in it. In general, I enjoyed the perspective of a retired dancer and her new life trying to stay in ballet teaching and writing.
I also enjoyed a lot the reference to the ABT NTC, the histories about Raymond Lukens, I felt very touched since I made my certification some years ago, I felt very connected with the writer at this point.
Thank you so much to the editorial and NetGalley for the opportunity.
I had some problems following the rhythm of the book since there are many moments involved in it. In general, I enjoyed the perspective of a retired dancer and her new life trying to stay in ballet teaching and writing.
I also enjoyed a lot the reference to the ABT NTC, the histories about Raymond Lukens, I felt very touched since I made my certification some years ago, I felt very connected with the writer at this point.
Thank you so much to the editorial and NetGalley for the opportunity.
December 28, 2021
When I had the opportunity to read Fierce and Delicate: Essays on Dance and Illness by Renee K. Nicholson I was really excited because of my own ballet/dance background and my curiosity about what happens after dance life. I wanted to connect with a huge part of my past before all these injuries and I wanted to learn a little bit more about chronic illness from a dancer's perspective.
I appreciated the raw honesty of this one. The first half really talks about the dark side of dance and exposes the dangers of pedophilia, grooming, and disordered eating. The second half goes into how rheumatoid arthritis forced her to stop. The author does a good job of giving you the details of events and how her illness progressed.
However, I really wanted to love this one but I struggled to stay connected to her story. The author talked about really dark events but never connected emotionally. It is written as if the author is an outsider looking in and she intends the reader to stay exterior as well. There is no emotional connection to the events which it makes it difficult to become invested in her story. The writing feels more like reporting than personal essays. It just didn't dig deep enough for any emotion to come through. It does give you an understanding of the dance world and how tough dancers have to be mentally and physically but that is about all that it gives.
Thanks to @booksforwardpr for the gifted copy.
I appreciated the raw honesty of this one. The first half really talks about the dark side of dance and exposes the dangers of pedophilia, grooming, and disordered eating. The second half goes into how rheumatoid arthritis forced her to stop. The author does a good job of giving you the details of events and how her illness progressed.
However, I really wanted to love this one but I struggled to stay connected to her story. The author talked about really dark events but never connected emotionally. It is written as if the author is an outsider looking in and she intends the reader to stay exterior as well. There is no emotional connection to the events which it makes it difficult to become invested in her story. The writing feels more like reporting than personal essays. It just didn't dig deep enough for any emotion to come through. It does give you an understanding of the dance world and how tough dancers have to be mentally and physically but that is about all that it gives.
Thanks to @booksforwardpr for the gifted copy.
May 31, 2025
Such a great book. I wouldn't have picked up a book on ballet but Renee happens to be the wife of one of my best friends (and I really like her). I won't hesitate picking up a book on ballet now. Such bad ass athletes, and way cool. I had no idea Renee was so tough, she really has a no give in her that shows and the word fierce in the title is perfect.
June 19, 2021
I have to shake my head a bit at a few of these reviews that charge the book to be more about this or more about that (disability theory, eating disorders in the dance world, etc.). It’s personal essay, not polemic. A disability memoir isn’t going to discuss disability on every page (ditto dance). Expecting someone with a disability to only talk about their disability, or to “inspire” the reader, or to perform said disability on the reader’s terms and in their language, is just another form of ableism.
This book is a deftly crafted look at what it means to have a deep passion and then to have that passion suddenly taken away. Nicholson is candid about the fact that all she ever wanted to do was dance, and when she writes about dance, the language jumps off the page. Through essays of varying length and style, Nicholson offers a vivid and unflinching look into what it means to be a dancer—not a famous prima ballerina but a nameless member of the corps. And while dancers and former dancers will likely find a lot of insider experience to appreciate and connect with in this memoir, the book also grapples with desire and loss in a fundamental way that transcends the subject matter, making it relatable to readers like me who know very little about classical dance.
Nicholson is extremely honest about the good and the bad, her triumphs and her setbacks, her motivations (both positive and negative) and her fears, and those moments where she finds her better self. She expresses vulnerability while also pushing back against the expectation that her story be a made-for-television redemption tale, and at times is even wryly funny as she considers some of the more surreal moments in her life. (The essay about her brief time studying in Russia steals the show.) The book has its heartbreaking moments, too, but for a book about loss, it is a remarkably uplifting read.
Nicholson mentions being an academic, and it shows in moments where she reflects intelligently on her subject matter, but she wisely keeps her personal story at the forefront, and this prevents the book from dragging or bogging down. I’d also be remiss not to mention just how much the book sparkles on the line level. Every sentence is a gem—the poetic language rises to the occasion while still remaining easy to navigate and never feels like a stuffy or pretentious affectation. This makes for a quick and energetic read.
In reminiscing about a beloved art form she can no longer perform, Nicholson has created new art that is moving and beautiful in its own right.
This book is a deftly crafted look at what it means to have a deep passion and then to have that passion suddenly taken away. Nicholson is candid about the fact that all she ever wanted to do was dance, and when she writes about dance, the language jumps off the page. Through essays of varying length and style, Nicholson offers a vivid and unflinching look into what it means to be a dancer—not a famous prima ballerina but a nameless member of the corps. And while dancers and former dancers will likely find a lot of insider experience to appreciate and connect with in this memoir, the book also grapples with desire and loss in a fundamental way that transcends the subject matter, making it relatable to readers like me who know very little about classical dance.
Nicholson is extremely honest about the good and the bad, her triumphs and her setbacks, her motivations (both positive and negative) and her fears, and those moments where she finds her better self. She expresses vulnerability while also pushing back against the expectation that her story be a made-for-television redemption tale, and at times is even wryly funny as she considers some of the more surreal moments in her life. (The essay about her brief time studying in Russia steals the show.) The book has its heartbreaking moments, too, but for a book about loss, it is a remarkably uplifting read.
Nicholson mentions being an academic, and it shows in moments where she reflects intelligently on her subject matter, but she wisely keeps her personal story at the forefront, and this prevents the book from dragging or bogging down. I’d also be remiss not to mention just how much the book sparkles on the line level. Every sentence is a gem—the poetic language rises to the occasion while still remaining easy to navigate and never feels like a stuffy or pretentious affectation. This makes for a quick and energetic read.
In reminiscing about a beloved art form she can no longer perform, Nicholson has created new art that is moving and beautiful in its own right.
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