jacqueline1989's review
5.0
As a kid, I grew up watching Michael Flatley's amazing Irish dancing, and I adored it with a passion I doubt I even realized, even all those years ago. As a reader, I was almost terrified at the onset of starting this book because, in truth, I knew nothing, in detail, of Michael Flatley. Oh, sure enough I knew his basics, his Glossed Over resume, but I knew nothing of the man, except what I had heard from the media. The funny reality about stardom is that it creates the idea that we, as the fan, have a right to know all the intimate details of our idols. Knowing this, I knew the book, Lord of the Dance, would either satisfy all my curiosity, and leaving me hating the man, or it would be an obvious falsehood, leaving me cold.
Thankfully, Flatley's autobiography was capable of being so much more, so much better, than any of the above feared expectations. This narrative was humanistic in that, much like the people we know in our lives, there are aspects about them that we love, and that we hate, but that we fundamentally accept, and move on. In many ways, this is the aspect of which I was most impressed. I found Flatley's book to be neither a narcissistic "look-all-at-what-I've-done-and-how-awesome-I-am" telling, nor was it overly ridden with an overreaching "see-how-I'm-so-misunderstood" tone.
Fundamentally, Lord of the Dance accomplishes two goals; it tells the story of the man, and it proves that Michael Flatley, like the rest of us, is human. Prior to hearing his story, with his own words, I always imagined Michael to be more myth than man, more fantasy than reality. An odd imagining, no doubt, but ironically true nonetheless. The intimate tone, the personal nature of this work does phenomenally well in conveying the fact that Flatley is a complexly, insanely talented, passionately driven man. The view the reader gets of him is so unexpectedly personable that, at times, I felt as though Flatley were telling his story for me, to me.
It was unexpected, too, at the almost isolated quality Flatley seems to have lived for the large portion of his life. Despite the obvious positive relationships in his life, both platonic and romantic, I often felt Flatley lived forever adrift, both because of his sexuality, and his art. Additionally, while I knew he was determined, I never comprehended the level of will he harbored. I understood, quite well, that he was a talented dancer, but after finishing this book I'm left almost breathless at his skill as a choreographer, a musician, a dancer, a directer, the list is endless. I'm almost sad, truly, that the work ended, because upon its final page I felt as though I were saying goodbye to a friend. This is in no way typical for me, ever, when reading biographical nonfiction, but the depth of feeling, the struggle, the triumph, the torture, the hells and downfalls of the man came roaring through the pages and into my consciousness. I had almost expected to find this book dull, dispassionately wrote, and overall dissatisfying, either from the aspect that I would hate all I had learned about Michael Flatley, or that the book's structure would be dully written. Thank God, truly, I was wrong, because it has been some time since I last enjoyed a nonfiction to the depth I found myself loving Lord of the Dance. I have so much more appreciation for the man, as well as the art.
Thankfully, Flatley's autobiography was capable of being so much more, so much better, than any of the above feared expectations. This narrative was humanistic in that, much like the people we know in our lives, there are aspects about them that we love, and that we hate, but that we fundamentally accept, and move on. In many ways, this is the aspect of which I was most impressed. I found Flatley's book to be neither a narcissistic "look-all-at-what-I've-done-and-how-awesome-I-am" telling, nor was it overly ridden with an overreaching "see-how-I'm-so-misunderstood" tone.
Fundamentally, Lord of the Dance accomplishes two goals; it tells the story of the man, and it proves that Michael Flatley, like the rest of us, is human. Prior to hearing his story, with his own words, I always imagined Michael to be more myth than man, more fantasy than reality. An odd imagining, no doubt, but ironically true nonetheless. The intimate tone, the personal nature of this work does phenomenally well in conveying the fact that Flatley is a complexly, insanely talented, passionately driven man. The view the reader gets of him is so unexpectedly personable that, at times, I felt as though Flatley were telling his story for me, to me.
It was unexpected, too, at the almost isolated quality Flatley seems to have lived for the large portion of his life. Despite the obvious positive relationships in his life, both platonic and romantic, I often felt Flatley lived forever adrift, both because of his sexuality, and his art. Additionally, while I knew he was determined, I never comprehended the level of will he harbored. I understood, quite well, that he was a talented dancer, but after finishing this book I'm left almost breathless at his skill as a choreographer, a musician, a dancer, a directer, the list is endless. I'm almost sad, truly, that the work ended, because upon its final page I felt as though I were saying goodbye to a friend. This is in no way typical for me, ever, when reading biographical nonfiction, but the depth of feeling, the struggle, the triumph, the torture, the hells and downfalls of the man came roaring through the pages and into my consciousness. I had almost expected to find this book dull, dispassionately wrote, and overall dissatisfying, either from the aspect that I would hate all I had learned about Michael Flatley, or that the book's structure would be dully written. Thank God, truly, I was wrong, because it has been some time since I last enjoyed a nonfiction to the depth I found myself loving Lord of the Dance. I have so much more appreciation for the man, as well as the art.
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