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Dancing Carl
As winter progresses, the strange man in the worn flight jacket dances frequently on the ice of the rink, expressing more with his movements than most people do with words.
105 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1983
43 people are currently reading
286 people want to read
About the author
Gary Paulsen
408 books3,977 followersGary James Paulsen was an American writer of children's and young adult fiction, best known for coming-of-age stories about the wilderness. He was the author of more than 200 books and wrote more than 200 magazine articles and short stories, and several plays, all primarily for teenagers. He won the Margaret Edwards Award from the American Library Association in 1997 for his lifetime contribution in writing for teens.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 39 reviews
August 3, 2025
So sometimes I like to read these kid's books because I often find them relaxing and I often enjoy the simple viewpoint of the kids too. And this one is especially important. It teaches, through the course of the story, how to accept people who act a little bit different. Because Carl certainly acts a tad strange. He will go out onto the ice in his shoes and he will do this strange swaying, arm moving movements. The two kids, Marshall and Willy, don't know what to make of this. Why does he do this? The town of McKinley has put Carl in charge of the ice skating rink.
Marsh is the main character and he spends the majority of the book trying to understand Carl. Why does he act the way he does? And he hears all of these nasty rumors going around about Carl too, as it seems different townsfolk have different ideas about Carl. But he wants to know the truth.
I don't want to give any spoilers but this is a World War II story. And Carl is a veteran. I think that should give a hint about what the story is about.
I enjoyed reading this. The story is actually more complex than it seems and explains how people can be triggered by the most innocent of things, because of their memories of the past. Basically it explains PTSD so kids can understand it. And the aloneness that comes with it. Because the experiences you had means you don't fit in anymore.
I also like the cover of this book. It's very winter like. And there is just something about Carl, his pose and the leather jacket...and if you look closely you can see the colors swirling around him to represent movement.
The story itself takes place in 1958, in a very small town Minnesota... It was interesting to see the small town described too. Fishing, ice hockey, push mowers. Great descriptions of a decade long gone.
Marsh is the main character and he spends the majority of the book trying to understand Carl. Why does he act the way he does? And he hears all of these nasty rumors going around about Carl too, as it seems different townsfolk have different ideas about Carl. But he wants to know the truth.
I don't want to give any spoilers but this is a World War II story. And Carl is a veteran. I think that should give a hint about what the story is about.
I enjoyed reading this. The story is actually more complex than it seems and explains how people can be triggered by the most innocent of things, because of their memories of the past. Basically it explains PTSD so kids can understand it. And the aloneness that comes with it. Because the experiences you had means you don't fit in anymore.
I also like the cover of this book. It's very winter like. And there is just something about Carl, his pose and the leather jacket...and if you look closely you can see the colors swirling around him to represent movement.
The story itself takes place in 1958, in a very small town Minnesota... It was interesting to see the small town described too. Fishing, ice hockey, push mowers. Great descriptions of a decade long gone.
August 24, 2021
Winter consumes quite a bit of the year in shivery northern Minnesota, and I've never appreciated the season more than after reading Gary Paulsen's perspective on it. Woodsong, Dogsong, The Winter Room, Brian's Winter, Tracker, Winterdance: The Fine Madness of Running the Iditarod, and other Paulsen books, including Dancing Carl, speak with wondrous eloquence to the sacred beauty of December's solstice: glittering ice and soundlessly falling snow and temperatures plummeting so far below zero one can almost hear the brittle air crackle like an electrical field. Humans naturally cower from winter's predatory lair, forsaking frigid small towns of the north for the year-round comfort of warmer climates, but Gary Paulsen has a different view of winter. Its elemental harshness provides stark contrast to the natural beauty of human and animal life in the foreground even during the most brutal stretches of the season, and Dancing Carl is of one of its beautiful stories, a raw display of the grief and redemption that war for preeminence within us, the winner of that struggle ultimately decided by no one but ourselves. Through the unrehearsed, uncontrived dance of a World War II veteran teetering on the edge of an endless void, a pair of twelve-year old boys in 1958 see the deep marks we make in one another's lives, and what it means to grope one's way through interminable darkness to be pulled into the light by a welcoming hand on the other side of the eternal chasm.
Winter in upstate McKinley, Minnesota is an annual cultural revival, a convention of kids and grownups throughout the tiny town as the mercury makes its home well below zero degrees and folks begin congregating on the ice rinks for skating and hockey. Winter is so fundamental a part of life that no one thinks to grumble about it; you adapt to the changing weather because you've done so your whole life, whether you're still in grade school or a retired codger with more than seventy winters under your belt. The rinks are how twelve-year-olds Marsh and Willy meet Dancing Carl, a striking figure in his leather pilot's jacket, a bottle of booze always kept close at hand to take pulls from when he needs it. Carl is the new custodian of the rinks this year, a troubled soul according to Marsh's father, who won't elaborate on what befell Carl in World War II to scar him so. But Dancing Carl's authority over what happens on the rinks is almost magical: little kids, ignored in prior years, having to wait their long turn to get a crack at skating when so many bigger kids are rearing to dominate the ice at the start of the season, are shown attention and care by Carl, who ensures they get their turn to roam the rinks as soon as everyone else. When a rowdy teen refuses to rein in his own over-exuberance on the hockey rink, Carl ejects him without a word, his measured stare and subdued gestures sufficient to get the message across that this troublemaker has lost his hockey privileges for the year. Marsh and Willy are intrigued by Carl and his occasional impromptu dances on the ice, not skating over the frozen surface but walking out on the rink and dancing in his sneakers, yet never slipping on the slick ice. Carl's dance is a natural outgrowth of who he is; somehow he expresses every emotion common to mankind through his strangely serene movements, possessing the rinks in a way that's both lovely and awe-inspiring. He owns the ice this year, until Marsh and Willy accidentally send this captivating human satellite crashing back to earth.
When they break Dancing Carl, it's no act of malice, just an innocent lack of awareness of how deep the man's wounds run. Marsh's enthusiasm for the romanticized notion of war causes him to tread on hallowed ground, a cemetery in Carl's psyche where the soil lies fresh over recently tilled graves. Dancing Carl's magic seems gone afterwards, leaving a hollowed shell of himself, but traumas—even desperate, haunting ones—are rarely the end of the story, not when the magnificence of life in its instinctive push to carry on continues making noise at our front door, an inviting clamor that assures us we aren't dead yet. It isn't Marsh, Willy, or the adults of McKinley who offer Carl another chance to be Dancing Carl, to rise above the violence of wartime slaughter and restore a piece of what he could have been without fire and lead piercing his sanity and leaving him emotionally catatonic. It's Helen who brings the possibility of reclamation to Dancing Carl, a middle-aged ice dancer whose graceful presence and courage to be her true self are the first tendril of spring pushing up through winter's white carpet, a verdant sprig affirming that the cycle of rebirth hasn't given up on our planet any more than it has on Dancing Carl. For Carl, the most important thing won't be whether his happy ending holds up for the rest of his life. No happiness is guaranteed to be permanent, regardless of how jealously we guard it. What really matters is whether or not Helen will pick up the rose, if she'll recognize the beauty in Carl's shattered spirit and decide it's worth taking hold of, worth exploring together. No one can absolutely control what happens after the rose is plucked from the ice, but blessed is he who has the opportunity to experience it. In the end, that's what truly matters.
The descriptions of winter in Dancing Carl aren't as evocative as in some of Gary Paulsen's other novels, but they present a detailed picture of 1958 Minnesota as Marsh and Willy spend a season observing a man unlike any they'll meet again. We can all identify with the pain Dancing Carl carries inside, the heaviness of shrapnel embedded in mental tissue as surely as if he'd taken the brunt of a grenade blast, but it can't weigh him down when he starts his dance. When Carl twirls on the ice, the heaviness falls away like useless scrap metal and the man stands tall and unencumbered, comfortable in the poetry of motion he briefly shares with others embroiled in their own personal dramas. Our stake in the outcome of his story is seeing what chance of redemption we have, for if a soul like Carl cannot retreat from the brink, surely there's no hope for anyone. Dancing Carl isn't one of Gary Paulsen's most explosive or emotionally rending novels, but neither is 1958 in McKinley a winter you're apt to forget soon. I give the book two and a half stars, and readers of all stripes will appreciate the subtlety of its message and the story's unceasing belief in the splendor and resilience of the human spirit. Thanks for Dancing Carl, Mr. Paulsen. It means a lot to me.
Winter in upstate McKinley, Minnesota is an annual cultural revival, a convention of kids and grownups throughout the tiny town as the mercury makes its home well below zero degrees and folks begin congregating on the ice rinks for skating and hockey. Winter is so fundamental a part of life that no one thinks to grumble about it; you adapt to the changing weather because you've done so your whole life, whether you're still in grade school or a retired codger with more than seventy winters under your belt. The rinks are how twelve-year-olds Marsh and Willy meet Dancing Carl, a striking figure in his leather pilot's jacket, a bottle of booze always kept close at hand to take pulls from when he needs it. Carl is the new custodian of the rinks this year, a troubled soul according to Marsh's father, who won't elaborate on what befell Carl in World War II to scar him so. But Dancing Carl's authority over what happens on the rinks is almost magical: little kids, ignored in prior years, having to wait their long turn to get a crack at skating when so many bigger kids are rearing to dominate the ice at the start of the season, are shown attention and care by Carl, who ensures they get their turn to roam the rinks as soon as everyone else. When a rowdy teen refuses to rein in his own over-exuberance on the hockey rink, Carl ejects him without a word, his measured stare and subdued gestures sufficient to get the message across that this troublemaker has lost his hockey privileges for the year. Marsh and Willy are intrigued by Carl and his occasional impromptu dances on the ice, not skating over the frozen surface but walking out on the rink and dancing in his sneakers, yet never slipping on the slick ice. Carl's dance is a natural outgrowth of who he is; somehow he expresses every emotion common to mankind through his strangely serene movements, possessing the rinks in a way that's both lovely and awe-inspiring. He owns the ice this year, until Marsh and Willy accidentally send this captivating human satellite crashing back to earth.
When they break Dancing Carl, it's no act of malice, just an innocent lack of awareness of how deep the man's wounds run. Marsh's enthusiasm for the romanticized notion of war causes him to tread on hallowed ground, a cemetery in Carl's psyche where the soil lies fresh over recently tilled graves. Dancing Carl's magic seems gone afterwards, leaving a hollowed shell of himself, but traumas—even desperate, haunting ones—are rarely the end of the story, not when the magnificence of life in its instinctive push to carry on continues making noise at our front door, an inviting clamor that assures us we aren't dead yet. It isn't Marsh, Willy, or the adults of McKinley who offer Carl another chance to be Dancing Carl, to rise above the violence of wartime slaughter and restore a piece of what he could have been without fire and lead piercing his sanity and leaving him emotionally catatonic. It's Helen who brings the possibility of reclamation to Dancing Carl, a middle-aged ice dancer whose graceful presence and courage to be her true self are the first tendril of spring pushing up through winter's white carpet, a verdant sprig affirming that the cycle of rebirth hasn't given up on our planet any more than it has on Dancing Carl. For Carl, the most important thing won't be whether his happy ending holds up for the rest of his life. No happiness is guaranteed to be permanent, regardless of how jealously we guard it. What really matters is whether or not Helen will pick up the rose, if she'll recognize the beauty in Carl's shattered spirit and decide it's worth taking hold of, worth exploring together. No one can absolutely control what happens after the rose is plucked from the ice, but blessed is he who has the opportunity to experience it. In the end, that's what truly matters.
The descriptions of winter in Dancing Carl aren't as evocative as in some of Gary Paulsen's other novels, but they present a detailed picture of 1958 Minnesota as Marsh and Willy spend a season observing a man unlike any they'll meet again. We can all identify with the pain Dancing Carl carries inside, the heaviness of shrapnel embedded in mental tissue as surely as if he'd taken the brunt of a grenade blast, but it can't weigh him down when he starts his dance. When Carl twirls on the ice, the heaviness falls away like useless scrap metal and the man stands tall and unencumbered, comfortable in the poetry of motion he briefly shares with others embroiled in their own personal dramas. Our stake in the outcome of his story is seeing what chance of redemption we have, for if a soul like Carl cannot retreat from the brink, surely there's no hope for anyone. Dancing Carl isn't one of Gary Paulsen's most explosive or emotionally rending novels, but neither is 1958 in McKinley a winter you're apt to forget soon. I give the book two and a half stars, and readers of all stripes will appreciate the subtlety of its message and the story's unceasing belief in the splendor and resilience of the human spirit. Thanks for Dancing Carl, Mr. Paulsen. It means a lot to me.
July 29, 2023
Winter consumes quite a bit of the year in shivery northern Minnesota, and I've never appreciated the season more than after reading Gary Paulsen's perspective on it. Woodsong, Dogsong, The Winter Room, Brian's Winter, Tracker, Winterdance: The Fine Madness of Running the Iditarod, and other Paulsen books, including Dancing Carl, speak with wondrous eloquence to the sacred beauty of December's solstice: glittering ice and soundlessly falling snow and temperatures plummeting so far below zero one can almost hear the brittle air crackle like an electrical field. Humans naturally cower from winter, forsaking frigid small towns of the north for the year-round comfort of warmer climates, but Gary Paulsen has a different view of winter. Its elemental harshness provides stark contrast to the natural beauty of human and animal life in the foreground even during the most brutal stretches of the season, and Dancing Carl is of one of its beautiful stories, a raw display of the grief and redemption that war for preeminence within us, the winner of that struggle ultimately decided by no one but ourselves. Through the unrehearsed, uncontrived dance of a World War II veteran teetering on the edge of an endless void, a pair of twelve-year old boys in 1958 see the deep marks we make in one another's lives, and what it means to grope one's way through interminable darkness to be pulled into the light by a welcoming hand on the other side of the eternal chasm.
Winter in upstate McKinley, Minnesota is an annual cultural revival, a convention of kids and grownups throughout the tiny town as the mercury makes its home well below zero degrees and folks begin congregating on the ice rinks for skating and hockey. Winter is so fundamental a part of life that no one thinks to grumble about it; you adapt to the changing weather because you've done so your whole life, whether you're still in grade school or a retired codger with more than seventy winters under your belt. The rinks are how twelve-year-olds Marsh and Willy meet Dancing Carl, a striking figure in his leather pilot's jacket, a bottle of booze always kept close at hand to take pulls from when he needs it. Carl is the new custodian of the rinks this year, a troubled soul according to Marsh's father, who won't elaborate on what befell Carl in World War II to scar him so. But Dancing Carl's authority over what happens on the rinks is almost magical: little kids, ignored in prior years, having to wait their long turn to get a crack at skating when so many bigger kids are rearing to dominate the ice at the start of the season, are shown attention and care by Carl, who ensures they get their turn to roam the rinks as soon as everyone else. When a rowdy teen refuses to rein in his own over-exuberance on the hockey rink, Carl ejects him without a word, his measured stare and subdued gestures sufficient to get the message across that this troublemaker has lost his hockey privileges for the year. Marsh and Willy are intrigued by Carl and his occasional impromptu dances on the ice, not skating over the frozen surface but walking out on the rink and dancing in his sneakers, yet never slipping on the slick ice. Carl's dance is a natural outgrowth of who he is; somehow he expresses every emotion common to mankind through his strangely serene movements, possessing the rinks in a way that's both lovely and awe-inspiring. He owns the ice this year, until Marsh and Willy accidentally send this captivating human satellite crashing back to earth.
When they break Dancing Carl, it's no act of malice, just an innocent lack of awareness of how deep the man's wounds run. Marsh's enthusiasm for the romanticized notion of war causes him to tread on hallowed ground, a cemetery in Carl's psyche where the soil lies fresh over recently tilled graves. Dancing Carl's magic seems gone afterwards, leaving a hollowed shell of himself, but traumas—even desperate, haunting ones—are rarely the end of the story, not when the magnificence of life in its instinctive push to carry on continues making noise at our front door, an inviting clamor that assures us we aren't dead yet. It isn't Marsh, Willy, or the adults of McKinley who offer Carl another chance to be Dancing Carl, to rise above the violence of wartime slaughter and restore a piece of what he could have been without fire and lead piercing his sanity and leaving him emotionally catatonic. It's Helen who brings the possibility of reclamation to Dancing Carl, a middle-aged ice dancer whose graceful presence and courage to be her true self are the first tendril of spring pushing up through winter's white carpet, a verdant sprig affirming that the cycle of rebirth hasn't given up on our planet any more than it has on Dancing Carl. For Carl, the most important thing won't be whether his happy ending holds up for the rest of his life. No happiness is guaranteed to be permanent, regardless of how jealously we guard it. What really matters is whether or not Helen will pick up the rose, if she'll recognize the beauty in Carl's shattered spirit and decide it's worth taking hold of, worth exploring together. No one can absolutely control what happens after the rose is plucked from the ice, but blessed is he who has the opportunity to experience it. In the end, that's what truly matters.
The descriptions of winter in Dancing Carl aren't as evocative as in some of Gary Paulsen's other novels, but they present a detailed picture of 1958 Minnesota as Marsh and Willy spend a season observing a man unlike any they'll meet again. We can all identify with the pain Dancing Carl carries inside, the heaviness of shrapnel embedded in mental tissue as surely as if he'd taken the brunt of a grenade blast, but it can't weigh him down when he starts his dance. When Carl twirls on the ice, the heaviness falls away like useless scrap metal and the man stands tall and unencumbered, comfortable in the poetry of motion he briefly shares with others embroiled in their own personal dramas. Our stake in the outcome of his story is seeing what chance of redemption we have, for if a soul like Carl cannot retreat from the brink, surely there's no hope for anyone. Dancing Carl isn't one of Gary Paulsen's most explosive or emotionally rending novels, but neither is 1958 in McKinley a winter you're apt to forget soon. I give the book two and a half stars, and readers of all stripes will appreciate the subtlety of its message and the story's unceasing belief in the splendor and resilience of the human spirit. Thanks for Dancing Carl, Mr. Paulsen. It means a lot to me.
A note about this edition of Dancing Carl: I generally like Neil Waldman's book covers, but I prefer the cover of the first edition of this book I read, which shows Carl Wenstrom in his sheepskin flight jacket out on the ice with the rose in his grasp. On Neil Waldman's cover, Carl in his dancing pose looks a bit odd, but to each his own.
Winter in upstate McKinley, Minnesota is an annual cultural revival, a convention of kids and grownups throughout the tiny town as the mercury makes its home well below zero degrees and folks begin congregating on the ice rinks for skating and hockey. Winter is so fundamental a part of life that no one thinks to grumble about it; you adapt to the changing weather because you've done so your whole life, whether you're still in grade school or a retired codger with more than seventy winters under your belt. The rinks are how twelve-year-olds Marsh and Willy meet Dancing Carl, a striking figure in his leather pilot's jacket, a bottle of booze always kept close at hand to take pulls from when he needs it. Carl is the new custodian of the rinks this year, a troubled soul according to Marsh's father, who won't elaborate on what befell Carl in World War II to scar him so. But Dancing Carl's authority over what happens on the rinks is almost magical: little kids, ignored in prior years, having to wait their long turn to get a crack at skating when so many bigger kids are rearing to dominate the ice at the start of the season, are shown attention and care by Carl, who ensures they get their turn to roam the rinks as soon as everyone else. When a rowdy teen refuses to rein in his own over-exuberance on the hockey rink, Carl ejects him without a word, his measured stare and subdued gestures sufficient to get the message across that this troublemaker has lost his hockey privileges for the year. Marsh and Willy are intrigued by Carl and his occasional impromptu dances on the ice, not skating over the frozen surface but walking out on the rink and dancing in his sneakers, yet never slipping on the slick ice. Carl's dance is a natural outgrowth of who he is; somehow he expresses every emotion common to mankind through his strangely serene movements, possessing the rinks in a way that's both lovely and awe-inspiring. He owns the ice this year, until Marsh and Willy accidentally send this captivating human satellite crashing back to earth.
When they break Dancing Carl, it's no act of malice, just an innocent lack of awareness of how deep the man's wounds run. Marsh's enthusiasm for the romanticized notion of war causes him to tread on hallowed ground, a cemetery in Carl's psyche where the soil lies fresh over recently tilled graves. Dancing Carl's magic seems gone afterwards, leaving a hollowed shell of himself, but traumas—even desperate, haunting ones—are rarely the end of the story, not when the magnificence of life in its instinctive push to carry on continues making noise at our front door, an inviting clamor that assures us we aren't dead yet. It isn't Marsh, Willy, or the adults of McKinley who offer Carl another chance to be Dancing Carl, to rise above the violence of wartime slaughter and restore a piece of what he could have been without fire and lead piercing his sanity and leaving him emotionally catatonic. It's Helen who brings the possibility of reclamation to Dancing Carl, a middle-aged ice dancer whose graceful presence and courage to be her true self are the first tendril of spring pushing up through winter's white carpet, a verdant sprig affirming that the cycle of rebirth hasn't given up on our planet any more than it has on Dancing Carl. For Carl, the most important thing won't be whether his happy ending holds up for the rest of his life. No happiness is guaranteed to be permanent, regardless of how jealously we guard it. What really matters is whether or not Helen will pick up the rose, if she'll recognize the beauty in Carl's shattered spirit and decide it's worth taking hold of, worth exploring together. No one can absolutely control what happens after the rose is plucked from the ice, but blessed is he who has the opportunity to experience it. In the end, that's what truly matters.
The descriptions of winter in Dancing Carl aren't as evocative as in some of Gary Paulsen's other novels, but they present a detailed picture of 1958 Minnesota as Marsh and Willy spend a season observing a man unlike any they'll meet again. We can all identify with the pain Dancing Carl carries inside, the heaviness of shrapnel embedded in mental tissue as surely as if he'd taken the brunt of a grenade blast, but it can't weigh him down when he starts his dance. When Carl twirls on the ice, the heaviness falls away like useless scrap metal and the man stands tall and unencumbered, comfortable in the poetry of motion he briefly shares with others embroiled in their own personal dramas. Our stake in the outcome of his story is seeing what chance of redemption we have, for if a soul like Carl cannot retreat from the brink, surely there's no hope for anyone. Dancing Carl isn't one of Gary Paulsen's most explosive or emotionally rending novels, but neither is 1958 in McKinley a winter you're apt to forget soon. I give the book two and a half stars, and readers of all stripes will appreciate the subtlety of its message and the story's unceasing belief in the splendor and resilience of the human spirit. Thanks for Dancing Carl, Mr. Paulsen. It means a lot to me.
A note about this edition of Dancing Carl: I generally like Neil Waldman's book covers, but I prefer the cover of the first edition of this book I read, which shows Carl Wenstrom in his sheepskin flight jacket out on the ice with the rose in his grasp. On Neil Waldman's cover, Carl in his dancing pose looks a bit odd, but to each his own.
January 18, 2015
As most of Gary Paulsen's books this is told strictly from the 12-year-old's view. There is a lot missing from the story that an occasional peak into the adult could answer for us. However, as usual it is very well written and would make an excellent read-aloud for 9-12 year olds. This book could open up all kinds of discussions with children from PTSD, alcohol/drunkenness, judging people, respect, friendship, lines and colors to even hockey!
March 5, 2018
Dancing Carl is about two boys named Marsh and Willy, who observed a man named Carl
dancing at the ice rinks and has a secret. The boys live in McKinley, Minnesota where the
summer life is about fishing and yard work, including chores. During the winter, however, its
about skating and hockey. Carl, who takes care of the rinks in the winter, is an alcoholic and is a
good ice skater. I felt like the book could’ve been a lot longer with more details. I wouldn’t read it
a second time since it was really boring. I would rate the book 3 stars out of 5, since of how
short the book is and boring.
The book is narrated by a 12 year old, so it isn't a hard book to read. This book is meant
for younger kids and has good life skills or lessons one could take from this. Perfect example of a lesson is judging someone. There a few people in the book who have certain problems that you
shouldn't judge them for. I would recommend this book for someone who wants a fast read
rather than spending a whole week reading it. The book was good but is really short and lacked
detail. I would rather the book contain at least a 100 more pages for it to be enjoyable. I didn’t
really like the book, but some might if they want something easy to read. If you like a quick read,
then this book is the one.
dancing at the ice rinks and has a secret. The boys live in McKinley, Minnesota where the
summer life is about fishing and yard work, including chores. During the winter, however, its
about skating and hockey. Carl, who takes care of the rinks in the winter, is an alcoholic and is a
good ice skater. I felt like the book could’ve been a lot longer with more details. I wouldn’t read it
a second time since it was really boring. I would rate the book 3 stars out of 5, since of how
short the book is and boring.
The book is narrated by a 12 year old, so it isn't a hard book to read. This book is meant
for younger kids and has good life skills or lessons one could take from this. Perfect example of a lesson is judging someone. There a few people in the book who have certain problems that you
shouldn't judge them for. I would recommend this book for someone who wants a fast read
rather than spending a whole week reading it. The book was good but is really short and lacked
detail. I would rather the book contain at least a 100 more pages for it to be enjoyable. I didn’t
really like the book, but some might if they want something easy to read. If you like a quick read,
then this book is the one.
April 16, 2017
Small town that revolves around an ice rink. A town who takes care of their own and in the end one of their veterans life is turned around.
October 15, 2013
This is a story that I listened to with very low expectation. I am glad it proved me wrong.
The story is narrated by a 12 year old boy. Through him, the reader will learn a lot about the his hometown, it's people, their small town lives, and his friendship to another boy.
But the best part of the boy's narration is his first up-close witnessing of what a miracle is as he show us how Carl appeared first in this story, Carl's flaws and his mysterious ways - to a boy's point of view, Carl's brokenness and eventually, of Carl's transformation. When the miracle happened in the end, I was ready for it to happened. I shrug when I first met Carl (through the narrator), I was intrigued when Carl's quirks were revealed, then I was broken-heart when Carl broke down. I was worried and hopeless with the narrator and was hopeful when Carl started to dance once again. Boy I was on the proverbial edge of my chair whenever Carl dance FOR/TO someone and was cheering loudly when the lonely rose was picked up from the ice. What a story!
This book is full of moral lessons for kids, stark truths for adult to make the story believable, and universal issues for all ages to identify with.
At first I was dubious about how short the story was but the directness and child-friendliness of every words and plot made the story even more gripping. The reader/listener gets into the story unencumbered by technical traps and there, inside the story, lived through the eyes of a young boy and finished the book well satisfied in the journey. I did not feel I finished a short book, instead, I finished a believing in miracles, in all forms, and in all season.
Great book for young and old!
*Thanks to my local library*
The story is narrated by a 12 year old boy. Through him, the reader will learn a lot about the his hometown, it's people, their small town lives, and his friendship to another boy.
But the best part of the boy's narration is his first up-close witnessing of what a miracle is as he show us how Carl appeared first in this story, Carl's flaws and his mysterious ways - to a boy's point of view, Carl's brokenness and eventually, of Carl's transformation. When the miracle happened in the end, I was ready for it to happened. I shrug when I first met Carl (through the narrator), I was intrigued when Carl's quirks were revealed, then I was broken-heart when Carl broke down. I was worried and hopeless with the narrator and was hopeful when Carl started to dance once again. Boy I was on the proverbial edge of my chair whenever Carl dance FOR/TO someone and was cheering loudly when the lonely rose was picked up from the ice. What a story!
This book is full of moral lessons for kids, stark truths for adult to make the story believable, and universal issues for all ages to identify with.
At first I was dubious about how short the story was but the directness and child-friendliness of every words and plot made the story even more gripping. The reader/listener gets into the story unencumbered by technical traps and there, inside the story, lived through the eyes of a young boy and finished the book well satisfied in the journey. I did not feel I finished a short book, instead, I finished a believing in miracles, in all forms, and in all season.
Great book for young and old!
*Thanks to my local library*
July 30, 2020
This is a strange book especially for a children's book. It was published in 1983 and by that time I would have been too old to have read it as a kid. I picked it up now because of the skating storyline. This short book is narrated from the point of view of a 12 year old boy.
The story takes place in the late 50s in a small Minnesota town. During the winter, two outdoor ice rinks are the focal point of town life. In this community the people care for each other and help each other. A man who returned from World War II emotionally damaged is the custodian of the rinks. He performs a strange dance but not on skates. During the winter a woman comes to skate at the rink and has a profound effect on Carl.
Until the last couple of paragraphs of this novella I struggled to see the point of writing it at all. The author created an interesting atmosphere and an insight into community life that I doubt exist in the United States anymore.
The story takes place in the late 50s in a small Minnesota town. During the winter, two outdoor ice rinks are the focal point of town life. In this community the people care for each other and help each other. A man who returned from World War II emotionally damaged is the custodian of the rinks. He performs a strange dance but not on skates. During the winter a woman comes to skate at the rink and has a profound effect on Carl.
Until the last couple of paragraphs of this novella I struggled to see the point of writing it at all. The author created an interesting atmosphere and an insight into community life that I doubt exist in the United States anymore.
November 14, 2025
I like that in addition to writing gritty and bloody tales of survival Gary Paulsen wasn’t afraid to reveal a softer side in his writing with books like Dancing Carl. As always, I’m amazed by how much depth of character Paulsen can create in a short (but not slight) work. Paulsen quickly limns two twelve-year-old boys, Marsh and Willy, who love fishing and hockey and who live in a small Minnesota town in the late 1950s. Their fascination with the odd character Carl is made believable, as is Carl’s troubled past and expression through dance.
This book has a slight fairy tale quality to it, leavened by harsh realities (Carl’s reliving of war trauma, drunkenness, physical discipline of students). The book is more of a poetic vignette which I found entrancing and maybe some young readers may be swept up in its spell as well.
Recommended.
This book has a slight fairy tale quality to it, leavened by harsh realities (Carl’s reliving of war trauma, drunkenness, physical discipline of students). The book is more of a poetic vignette which I found entrancing and maybe some young readers may be swept up in its spell as well.
Recommended.
October 23, 2019
I had never read a Gary Paulsen book before and after reading Dancing Carl I knew that his other books were worth reading. The book is about two boys 12 going on eleven who live in McKinley, Minnesota, who's lives are suddenly change when Carl, a war hero, comes for a visit. I think that the book is Heartwarming because you can see the main charters connect and feel for each other. I felt a connection to the book because am a dancer. I would recommend this book to war heroes, dancers, and courageous readers.
Sascha, Grade 6
Sascha, Grade 6
July 22, 2022
Early Paulsen. Not as smooth or enrapturing as his later work. You see the idea for “Soldier’s Heart” must have evolved from this, same with his Iditarod story. He is from the upper Midwest l, drawing upon his experiences for this story. I always interested in the ptsd angle which he handles well. There is a bit of ableism in the wrap up, which was not really a necessary part of the story. He could have stopped a chapter earlier with the rose. Middling effort, worth the read.
April 10, 2023
A very interesting love story between two broken people in a northern Minnesota town in the cold of winter as told by a 12-year-old boy. A story of hope and hidden healing and the power of action over words.
April 24, 2025
Really good book, you should definatly read it
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November 10, 2025
Just a clever, but deeply heart-felt story about a young boy’s memories of a WWII veteran in an small, upper Minnesota city. My father-in-law was a fighter pilot in WWII and I couldn’t help but think of him as I read this. The story just hit my heart deeply.
December 1, 2017
It was a good book and a very easy read. I liked the action packed things that were in the book.
October 18, 2018
It was an okay story.... just not my favorite. There was nothing wrong with the book.... in my opinion, just a personal preference.
August 7, 2019
The beginning and end were confusing to me. The middle was my favorite part of the story but still a little confusing
Read
October 21, 2019teaches very good lesson about love and just waiting even if you might be crazy a little just wait
November 19, 2021
This is a beautiful glimpse of a boy's first brush with empathy.
October 21, 2023
I prefer Paulsen's stories with animals.
May 22, 2025
The trick about this book is that the content level (ptsd from war, alcoholism) is significantly higher than the reading difficulty level (short and straightforward).
September 1, 2025
3.5 stars
November 15, 2011
“Dancing Carl” was a good book, it by one of my favorite authors, Gary Paulsen. It was a good book but it wasn’t my favorite by Paulsen. I’ve read better. The book took place in Minnesota the season was winter, which was also why this book was mainly about skating. The life in Minnesota in this book was mostly about the skating and how much people loved to skate and how much they enjoyed to skate. Marsh and Willy who are best friends discover Carl who is doing a strange dance at the rink and does a dance that is disturbing to watch yet very elegant. But, Marsh and Willy figure out the secret there is in Carl’s dancing. But, even with the secret a tiny miracle happens which makes Carl stand right back up to where he belongs.
Gary Paulsen really makes the characters get described very well. I felt like he was trying to tell something to the reader and he did it in such a good way. Paulsen makes it very clear and indicates that Carl loves to skate and what he’s like as a person. Throughout the book, many characters in the book make up rumors about Carl and I felt really bad. But, my favorite character had to be the protagonist, Carl because of how he was able to stand up for himself and not get beaten by the rumors made by everyone. He was a very strong, brave person and was one of those characters where you could trust. Overall, this was a good book.
Gary Paulsen really makes the characters get described very well. I felt like he was trying to tell something to the reader and he did it in such a good way. Paulsen makes it very clear and indicates that Carl loves to skate and what he’s like as a person. Throughout the book, many characters in the book make up rumors about Carl and I felt really bad. But, my favorite character had to be the protagonist, Carl because of how he was able to stand up for himself and not get beaten by the rumors made by everyone. He was a very strong, brave person and was one of those characters where you could trust. Overall, this was a good book.
December 17, 2016
This was like a bad Lifetime movie. I had to read to the end to see just how bad it would be. I was surprised because I liked all of Gary Paulsen's survival books so much. Oh well, one more book to add to my 100 this year.
July 6, 2020
In northern Minnesota, summer is all about yard work, chores, and fishing. And winter is all about hockey.
That is until the mysterious old man named Carl comes to town and begin dancing on the ice. For young boys Marsh and Willy, it is too curious and they need to find out more to understand.
This beautiful book is a wonderful tale about small town life. It is a fun read for kids ages 8 to 12.
That is until the mysterious old man named Carl comes to town and begin dancing on the ice. For young boys Marsh and Willy, it is too curious and they need to find out more to understand.
This beautiful book is a wonderful tale about small town life. It is a fun read for kids ages 8 to 12.
July 25, 2011
An interesting story of a small town who takes care of their own. It's really the ending that got to me, because it resounds the idea that the ending doesn't matter, so much as what happened to get to the end!
July 2, 2014
Eh. It's not a bad book by any means, but for being on the YALSA "Amazing Audiobook for YA" list, it was really quite an anticlimactic story. (Perhaps it would have affected me differently had I read instead of listened to it?)
November 7, 2019
My only commentary in my journal from 1985 when I read this was "I finished it. It was good." I really wish I had written more commentary about WHY I liked or didn't like books I read when I was 12 or 13!
October 26, 2009
Old Children's Book. Liked it as a kid, but haven't read it in years.
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February 19, 2009JAR5-Pau
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