hlparis's review against another edition
5.0
A lovely book about belonging, body movement and beauty. The illustrations are delicate and pretty and the words are in a poetic style.
ntripp's review against another edition
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? N/A
5.0
This book made me cry, in a happy & hopeful kind of way. I loved it from start to finish, kids will easily grasp the issues and the importance to the conclusion. The artwork is gorgeous and I kept having to stop reading to look over the art.
pib003's review against another edition
5.0
Simply beautiful. Incredible text! This would be fabulous for a PLAY storytime.
littlebookjockey's review against another edition
5.0
This was beautiful. I love, love, love it. Such wonderful representation.
abigailbat's review against another edition
Eva longs to dance, but she's not sure she can. Living in a wheelchair and only able to move a little bit, could she ever be welcomed onto the stage? This beautiful picture book is based on students in the Young Dance Company, a company for young people of all abilities. Yes, Eva can dance. And this picture book shows a group of different children of different ability levels and body types (including larger able-bodied children) dancing together and creating art.
suzannekm's review against another edition
4.0
Joyful look at an important organization that helps children with physical disabilities to dance and perform.
leslie_d's review against another edition
5.0
The desire to dance has filled shelves with picture books, but Flood brings us an unusual treat. I Will Dance is a must for young dancers everywhere. Our hero, she’s the girl who lived. And one day, a girl who dances.
Our first person narrator, a ten-year-old girl, wants to dance. Not imagine dancing. Not pretending to dance. And not because she is incapable, the words and pictures demonstrate her ability to imagine and pretend.* She wants to dance, to move, to participate with other dancers on the stage. Hers is a longing that resonates.
One day, her mother (one of two) discovers an ad in the paper for “Young Dance—all abilities, all ages. All are welcome.” But will our hero find the courage? She’s beset by doubts, worried she’ll be rejected.
“I want to dance, but I can hardly move. Only my head. Only my arms and fingers.”
In a clever turn, our protagonist wonders what it feels like to have the movement of other kids; even as the reader/listener must wonder what it is like to be her, with such limited movement and a motorized chair. Flood invites curiosity.
So our girl decides to try, she goes up the elevator and stops at the entrance of the dance studio. Inside are young dancers “with canes and crutches, walkers and wheels, bare feet, slippers, or callouses,” and prosthetics. They are a spectrum of color, boys, girls, androgynous alike. And they welcome her.
Flood welcomes the reader/listener into their lessons, the choreography, the practice, practice, practice. And then the BIG NIGHT, an ingredient to every other dance story. Our dancer performs and the night closes on a longing emphasized throughout the story, a theme that has danced alongside her desire to be a dancer.
She has come to belong to something bigger than herself. She isn’t alone. She is a dancer, one of many, her movement in relationship with other dancers. And you realize, that dancer is the only thing we know we can call her, our protagonist otherwise nameless. This realization is an important one because it signals that our protagonist as Dancer is more than a fulfillment of a dream, of imagination, but of a revelation of a deeper part of herself. Dancer is a significant part of her identity. And so from the start of lessons to book’s end we're met with joy.
Aside from the diversity in abilities, Flood greets us with a birthday party attended by a diverse community. This book is a feast for the soul in offering representation and irrepressible longing and joy. Julianna Swaney’s illustrations play no small part in enchanting the reader/listener.
The color palette is lovely, the warm hues bright against the blue-green washes; the ribbons of movement, both visualized and invisibly thread as our eyes move through the sequences. She creates visual themes to echo the narrative; the cords from her stay in NICU suggesting something was there at the very beginning. I appreciate the skill and marvel at Swaney compositions of movement, posture, in both the abstract shadow images and the realistic bodies. Paired with Flood’s sensory text, we can imagine ourselves among the dancers.
I Will Dance is a declarative. It inspires in the familiar way great dancer stories can. A longing finds a way, and the dancer finds their people, their stage, their audience, and most importantly, themselves. Obstacles are overcome, whether it’s in the form of a tutu, slippers, lessons, or nailing that audition. Flood’s dancer finds her studio, her community, and courageously shows up for that audition. She practices, and practices, and performs despite the butterflies.
I Will Dance is a great addition to dance and child libraries because it is a great dance book. And it offers rare representation—much needed representation, because dancers do come in all the shapes and sizes and colors and abilities.
She lived “ten years of minutes” where she was only supposed to have lived one or two. If she wants to dance: she’ll dance.
+
*It is incredibly important to note that when she imagines herself dancing, she is still in her chair, she is still in her body. And when she does dance, she uses her body and her chair; there is zero dissonance. I took Dance Theory once and wrote a paper on a scene from the TV show Glee where Artie imagines himself like his peers, dancing without his chair. His dream projection, his idealized self—it was a dancer without a wheelchair. [a question of virility is involved as well.] This episode, paired with outside discussions about how the actor Kevin McHale was actually the most trained and talented dancer on the show was in a wheelchair casted role, elicited pity. The wheelchair was an obstacle to overcome. Fortunately, importantly, I Will Dance makes no such offensive rhetorical suggestion. Wholeness is not the issue, access is. Flood’s dancer finds it and flourishes.
Recommended for fans of Anna Walker Illustrations, and, obviously, dance books.
Our first person narrator, a ten-year-old girl, wants to dance. Not imagine dancing. Not pretending to dance. And not because she is incapable, the words and pictures demonstrate her ability to imagine and pretend.* She wants to dance, to move, to participate with other dancers on the stage. Hers is a longing that resonates.
One day, her mother (one of two) discovers an ad in the paper for “Young Dance—all abilities, all ages. All are welcome.” But will our hero find the courage? She’s beset by doubts, worried she’ll be rejected.
“I want to dance, but I can hardly move. Only my head. Only my arms and fingers.”
In a clever turn, our protagonist wonders what it feels like to have the movement of other kids; even as the reader/listener must wonder what it is like to be her, with such limited movement and a motorized chair. Flood invites curiosity.
So our girl decides to try, she goes up the elevator and stops at the entrance of the dance studio. Inside are young dancers “with canes and crutches, walkers and wheels, bare feet, slippers, or callouses,” and prosthetics. They are a spectrum of color, boys, girls, androgynous alike. And they welcome her.
Flood welcomes the reader/listener into their lessons, the choreography, the practice, practice, practice. And then the BIG NIGHT, an ingredient to every other dance story. Our dancer performs and the night closes on a longing emphasized throughout the story, a theme that has danced alongside her desire to be a dancer.
She has come to belong to something bigger than herself. She isn’t alone. She is a dancer, one of many, her movement in relationship with other dancers. And you realize, that dancer is the only thing we know we can call her, our protagonist otherwise nameless. This realization is an important one because it signals that our protagonist as Dancer is more than a fulfillment of a dream, of imagination, but of a revelation of a deeper part of herself. Dancer is a significant part of her identity. And so from the start of lessons to book’s end we're met with joy.
Aside from the diversity in abilities, Flood greets us with a birthday party attended by a diverse community. This book is a feast for the soul in offering representation and irrepressible longing and joy. Julianna Swaney’s illustrations play no small part in enchanting the reader/listener.
The color palette is lovely, the warm hues bright against the blue-green washes; the ribbons of movement, both visualized and invisibly thread as our eyes move through the sequences. She creates visual themes to echo the narrative; the cords from her stay in NICU suggesting something was there at the very beginning. I appreciate the skill and marvel at Swaney compositions of movement, posture, in both the abstract shadow images and the realistic bodies. Paired with Flood’s sensory text, we can imagine ourselves among the dancers.
I Will Dance is a declarative. It inspires in the familiar way great dancer stories can. A longing finds a way, and the dancer finds their people, their stage, their audience, and most importantly, themselves. Obstacles are overcome, whether it’s in the form of a tutu, slippers, lessons, or nailing that audition. Flood’s dancer finds her studio, her community, and courageously shows up for that audition. She practices, and practices, and performs despite the butterflies.
I Will Dance is a great addition to dance and child libraries because it is a great dance book. And it offers rare representation—much needed representation, because dancers do come in all the shapes and sizes and colors and abilities.
She lived “ten years of minutes” where she was only supposed to have lived one or two. If she wants to dance: she’ll dance.
+
*It is incredibly important to note that when she imagines herself dancing, she is still in her chair, she is still in her body. And when she does dance, she uses her body and her chair; there is zero dissonance. I took Dance Theory once and wrote a paper on a scene from the TV show Glee where Artie imagines himself like his peers, dancing without his chair. His dream projection, his idealized self—it was a dancer without a wheelchair. [a question of virility is involved as well.] This episode, paired with outside discussions about how the actor Kevin McHale was actually the most trained and talented dancer on the show was in a wheelchair casted role, elicited pity. The wheelchair was an obstacle to overcome. Fortunately, importantly, I Will Dance makes no such offensive rhetorical suggestion. Wholeness is not the issue, access is. Flood’s dancer finds it and flourishes.
Recommended for fans of Anna Walker Illustrations, and, obviously, dance books.
periparaparasakura's review against another edition
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
3.75
noodles01's review against another edition
emotional
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
4.0