Ellen O'Connell Whittet w/ Melissa Seley, "Book of Hours"
Anyone who trained seriously at something as a child and then had to stop knows the particular grief of a body that was built for one purpose and then released from it. Whittet was a ballet dancer until an injury ended it, and she has spent two books now writing about what the discipline does to a person - the obedience, the pain tolerance taught as virtue, the way beauty gets extracted from young women who are not asked. The new one takes the title from the illuminated devotional books, which is the right frame: the daily practice, the hours kept whether or not anyone is watching. Seley joins her. The audience for this at a West Hollywood bookstore is reliably interesting - dancers, former dancers, and people who did gymnastics or music or anything else that demanded everything at twelve years old. Free, Thursday at seven, thirty chairs between shelves. Sit near the front; she reads quietly and does not reach for the microphone.
Anyone who trained seriously at something as a child and then had to stop knows the particular grief of a body that was built for one purpose and then released from it. Whittet was a ballet dancer until an injury ended it, and she has spent two books now writing about what the discipline does to a person - the obedience, the pain tolerance taught as virtue, the way beauty gets extracted from young women who are not asked. The new one takes the title from the illuminated devotional books, which is the right frame: the daily practice, the hours kept whether or not anyone is watching. Seley joins her. The audience for this at a West Hollywood bookstore is reliably interesting - dancers, former dancers, and people who did gymnastics or music or anything else that demanded everything at twelve years old. Free, Thursday at seven, thirty chairs between shelves. Sit near the front; she reads quietly and does not reach for the microphone.
Anyone who trained seriously at something as a child and then had to stop knows the particular grief of a body that was built for one purpose and then released from it. Whittet was a ballet dancer until an injury ended it, and she has spent two books now writing about what the discipline does to a person - the obedience, the pain tolerance taught as virtue, the way beauty gets extracted from young women who are not asked. The new one takes the title from the illuminated devotional books, which is the right frame: the daily practice, the hours kept whether or not anyone is watching. Seley joins her. The audience for this at a West Hollywood bookstore is reliably interesting - dancers, former dancers, and people who did gymnastics or music or anything else that demanded everything at twelve years old. Free, Thursday at seven, thirty chairs between shelves. Sit near the front; she reads quietly and does not reach for the microphone.