Review: What You Become in Flight: A Memoir by Ellen O'Connell Whittet

Did Not Finish What You Become in Flight: A Memoir by Ellen O'Connell Whittet.

This is the story of a dancer turned writer. The transit from dancing to writing is, unfortunately, not one by choice, but of necessity, to rediscover life beyond that of dancing.

The prologue is arrestingly written about the beginning of an end to ballet. Having read the prologue, I am enticed to find out more. But sadly, that is about it. The rest of the book is exhausting to read, simply because it does not match up to - my expectation of - the title.

In relation to the title, I expect a memoir that is about the author and her time as a ballerina, and details leading to the loss of her dream and how she overcome her fear and pain. Instead, the writing is centered on the author's family members and their background. It is a book on life in general at best, with ballet playing but a part in the writer's formation as a person. The element of dance is not as strongly presented as what I hope to find in the book. Whenever the ballet portion does appear, I grasp at it appreciatingly. But it is sparse and just not enough to sustain my interest.

I prefer memoirs where the story is about the narrator. This is not. I decide to throw in the towel at a quarter of the book. Yea, there is always a first, and this is my first did-not-finish memoir.


Publisher: Melville House
Publication date: 14 Apr 2020

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With a promising career in classical ballet ahead of her, Ellen O'Connell Whittet was devastated when a misstep in rehearsal caused a career-ending injury. Ballet was the love of her life. She lived for her moments under the glare of the stage-lights—gliding through the air, pretending however fleetingly to effortlessly defy gravity.

Yet with a debilitating injury forcing her to reconsider her future, she also began to reconsider what she had taken for granted in her past. Beneath every perfect arabesque was a foot, disfigured by pointe shoes, stuffed—taped and bleeding—into a pink, silk slipper. Behind her ballerina's body was a young girl starving herself into a fragile collection of limbs. Within her love of ballet was a hatred of herself for struggling to achieve the perfection it demanded of her.

*Blurb from Goodreads*

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