Meg Howrey's latest novel benefits greatly from the way dance instruction can apply to the text, simultaneously, as metaphor ... Carlisle's voice is ruminative and repetitive; often, the questions she asks herself reflect questions the reader may have. Howrey's prose is sharp and clear when dance is the subject ... The love affairs and familial estrangement are well-wrought and intriguing, but the finest aspect of this novel is the way Howrey captures the artistic process.
[Howrey] deftly arranges her characters’ betrayals, fidelities and accumulated disappointments to portray a family stymied by its own silences ... Carlisle’s first-person narration remains chilled for much of the book. We are privy to her feelings only insofar as she is ... The controlled performance is as grueling and gorgeous as a dance en pointe ... If the novel stumbles, it’s only as the denouement nears, when its steps can seem a bit too rehearsed ... But these become minor quibbles by the end, when Carlisle heartbreakingly articulates to herself a truth that is fully her own, no inheritance. In the way of the best endings, it has been thrumming beneath the surface all along, and now ricochets back over the rest of the novel, snapping it into sharper focus.
... a dance novel, but it is fundamentally a family drama that considers what makes relationships work and what makes them implode. The trappings of the dance world and Carlisle’s musings about her choreographic commissions form a rich tapestry around these themes ... Howrey brings an artist’s discipline to language. Her prose is lyrical, smooth, and thoroughly enjoyable. She is understated without being withholding ... Howrey is a master of unveiling the hidden emotional lives of her characters with grace and subtlety.
Lush and enjoyable ... Feels like a commercial success in waiting ... Glossy, fast-paced ... Howrey is a stylish writer, sometimes funny...and sometimes touching. On dance, particularly, she writes with such precision ... But Howrey also has quite a few annoying habits. The tedious continuous present tense...the long, descriptive sections recapping family history, the pretentious artsy jokes about Rodin and Stravinsky and carefully signposted Shakespeare quotes ... The whole novel has a feeling of soap opera, with its emotionally fraught tone and somewhat predictable twist ... But there’s an intent to all the melodrama.
I've always been in awe of people who can convincingly, even eloquently, write criticism or fiction about other art forms, such as visual art, music or dance. In her latest novel, They're Going to Love You, former dancer Meg Howrey demonstrates that she's more than capable of writing with knowledge and emotion about both the movements of dance and (to me at least) the bafflingly opaque process of choreography, all within the context of a heartbreaking story of family love, betrayal and loss.
... a luminous chronicle of betrayal, sacrifice and creative ambition, framed by New York’s Aids crisis in the 1980s and some seriously complex family dynamics ... This is by no means a flawless novel. It takes a while to warm up, falling back on therapy speak as Carlisle inspects her guilt and shame surrounding the events of that distant summer when she was exiled from her father’s home, as well as her ambivalence towards her mother, whom she’s always resented for being so easy to push away. A significant love affair, while packing plenty of heat, doesn’t wholly convince ... Yet throughout, Howrey, herself a former professional dancer, finds fresh and compelling ways to capture the discipline at her book’s heart ... And as the movement and music build to an emotional climax, she makes room for stillness and silence to startling effect ... Carlisle’s happily ever after is an elegant riposte to its more sexist elements, for here is a complicated, candid heroine who has no need of a co-star; who can hold the stage all on her own. By the book’s close, readers will be clamouring for an extra curtain call.
... a beautiful, compelling portrait of dance, those who choose such a difficult profession and how it defines more than a career, but a deep sense of self. Howrey writes skillfully about ballet, both the physically weight (and airiness) of it, and the choreography of it, the story that skillful movements can offer the viewer. She helps us see this art form from the inside out, a rare gift ... Howrey excels at depicting family dynamics in all their contradictions ... raises many more questions than it answers, which is the sign of a book that stays with you long after you finish the last page. This is a story sure to become a book group favorite, rich in discussion topics that are as provocative as they are complex.
... a different kind of ballet page-turner, more elegant family drama than straight thriller ... The book is filled with painful and astute self-reflections ... This is an original look both at the world of ballet – the directors, the demands, the devotion – and the art form itself ... The novel is at its best when dealing with the nature of muses and art, but falters when it comes to its central theme: betrayal. It skips around a little too readily between the past and the present, between lengthy (and occasionally pretentious) deep dives into niche dance topics and self-conscious musings...When we finally arrive at the big reveal, the neglectful nature of both her parents (and stepfather James) seems so clear that the blunder for which her father estranges her seems wildly out of proportion. The pages Carlisle devotes to self-doubt and self-recrimination for her part in the mess do not feel earned ... What the book is very good on is atmosphere, and Howrey paints a vivid picture of 80s New York and the Aids crisis ... a deeply felt (late) coming of age tale about purpose and love.
The world of ballet is seductive to writers — the costumes and display, the jealousies and competition — but it is a rare author who can capture the spare core of that world: the daily class. Meg Howrey, who once danced with an elite company, manages it beautifully ... Clarity and inner life run throughout the novel ... A beautiful book.
Howrey brings an artist’s discipline to language. Her prose is lyrical, smooth, and thoroughly enjoyable. She is understated without being withholding ... Howrey is a master of unveiling the hidden emotional lives of her characters with grace and subtlety.
Howrey’s prose invites readers to feel the emotion of each dance, beautifully translating physical and visual art onto the page. While some plot elements resolve surprisingly smoothly, Howrey’s incisive character studies create a heart-wrenching story of love and loss.
Poignant ... Howrey expertly builds tension, leading the reader to feel alongside Carlisle both the draw of ballet and her anxiety about her reunion with her father. It’s a breathtaking performance.
Howrey goes back and forth between Carlisle’s present and her past, risking tear-jerking sentiment but landing, like a flawless jeté, on the side of pitch-perfect poignancy ... Incisive and effortless writing about relationships.
