Here’s one thing you need to know about me: I’m very particular about gatekeeping attitudes. I’m from Chicago, so I snicker and poke fun at those who try and claim the city from 40 minutes away in rural “Chicagoland”. I’m black, so I express disdain and discomfort at microaggressions and appropriative behavior from my nonblack peers. That culture isn’t for them. Last but not least, I’m a ballet dancer, thus I turn my most critical eye on ballet media- fictional or otherwise! This brings me to the culmination of many many thoughts and opinions on “Tiny Pretty Things”, both a young-adult fiction duology written by Dhonielle Clayton and Sonya Charaipotra and a teen drama series of the same name adapted by Netflix. For the sake of your time and mine, we’ll only be discussing the novels for today, but trust that the series will have its day in court on my newsletter.
This review has been a long time coming, for multiple reasons, the first being that page-to-screen adaptations are kind of my thing. A particular interest of mine is how we bring the textual to the visual, and what is lost or gained in that process. The second reason is that I’m the perfect target audience for this novel! A teenage black girl enraptured by ballet and fiction her entire life, looking for a plot-packed book written by two women of color: I fit the bill perfectly! I should devour this representation, the fact that the representation is a steaming bag of trash with horseflies and vultures circling it aside! The third reason is that I honestly cannot bear the existence of this media in the world without my criticisms and tirades against it also out there as well. Let’s get into it. For concision’s sake, I promise to explain the premise and material of TPT with a simple Who, What, When, Where and How format. The unsightly scrambled complaints and criticisms will come after.
Also: a brief warning. This review will discuss material related topics (and SPOILERS) such as eating disorders, homophobia and outing, harassment and bullying, racism in various forms, underage sexual activity and nudity, grooming and pedophilia, and probably more. Heads up- the book is a bit more tame on some parts than the show, which I will not be discussing in depth today, but take care of yourself. Tap out whenever. I love you.
Who
TPT centers 3 protagonists: Giselle Stewart, Bette Abney and June Park. All three are Level 7 (read: vaguely advanced) students at the American Ballet Conservatory; for those unfamiliar with ballet media, this is usually what you call a fictional nationally reputed ballet school when you don’t want to get sued by the big sharks in NYC. The end goal of one’s education at the conservatory is a company contract to dance professionally. I believe each character starts out as 17 years of age, but birthdays and age in general are a bit dubious except when convenient. More on that in a moment.
Giselle “Gigi” Stewart! The effervescent new girl, and token negro at ABC. At the start of the first book she has just moved to New York City to pursue her dreams of professional ballet from California, and appears as an exotic breath of fresh air. She is also battling a heart defect that limits her commitment to ballet, one of her greatest frustrations.
Bette Abney! The untouchable music box ballerina and also this decade’s ballet nepotism baby. It’s a bit unclear how her parents are so wealthy and connected to the ballet world, but it was enough to breed Bette as well as her older sister Adele (current company principal) for stardom. Bette also happens to have a Ken Doll cutout of a boyfriend (You’ll meet Alec later) and a rapidly spiraling Adderall addiction.
June Park! Unfortunately on the part of the authors, not much can be said about June other than the fact that she is Korean-American and bulimic. She has been playing catchup to everyone else her entire life at the conservatory, never quite enough or favored as much as her peers. June’s mother is an ex-dancer who warns her against getting too deep into the ballet world and presents the looming ultimatum of a contract or college education for June.
I’ll also acquaint you with the numerous side characters relevant to plot and character arcs; there’s quite a lineup, which I’ve configured in order of most to least relevance to the core of the story.
Cassie Lucas is the former ingenue from London who was poised to capture Bette’s queen bee spot in the year preceding the events of the first book. These plans were cut short by a tragic hip injury in which she was dropped during a fateful pas de deux. She is indisposed for the events of the first book, and healing off the page.
Alec Lucas - Cassie’s cousin - is the Prince Charming of ABC! He dances well, is blonde, reports back to his father (major executive of the school and company) and dates Bette (and occasionally cheats on her). That’s about it.
Will is Alec’s unrequited GBF and Bette’s minion. He’s one of the few male students who are out at the academy, and unfortunately he uses this influence and power for evil. He turns out to be a bit more sinister than the usual sidekick.
Eleanor is Bette’s other right hand man and roommate. After years in her best friend’s shadow, she’s willing to do anything to anyone to prove herself.
Henri is the tall dark and handsome French import sent to gain intel and stir things up in NYC. He conveniently dates Cassie (they met while dancing in Europe together) and terrorizes everyone else, but poses a threat to other male dancers because of his smoldering prowess.
Sei-Jin is another Korean-American student at the conservatory, and June’s long time nemesis. She also doesn’t have much substance other than being a one dimensional bully and mean closeted girl, and much of her taunting occurs merely to antagonize June.
Some other names to know when it comes to the ever-absent staff and adults:
Mr. K is the head ballet instructor, a very old Russian defector, and a predator to female students. He wants what Arslan Rusokov has (easter egg for my book club folks. Shameless plug.)
Mr. Lucas is Alec’s father and one of the executive directors of the school. He doesn’t do a very good job of either task though.
Morkie, or Madame Morkova, is one of the primary instructors of the Level 7 & 8 dancers and purveyor of eating disorders galore.
Nurse Connie tries with all her might to reverse the above influence and nurse these poor dancers back to health to no avail.
What
As you could probably gather by now, this is a book about ballet. The competitiveness of the students in such a high-tension environment drives the conflict and plot, while adults few and far between stand and watch. This leads to much backstabbing, lying, cheating and various other dastardly deeds you’d hardly expect teens to be capable of! I will take this opportunity to interject on the debate of exaggeration and morality in niche media about performing arts institutions. Black Swan (2010) was condemned by many a ballerina for its dizzying portrayal of madness and perfection; Whiplash (2014) faced the same fate by musicians. The mad artist and the lengths they will go to in order to create is a common trope, one I indulge in absorbing often. I didn’t find this book necessarily unrealistic on the basis of how awful the actions committed were because I’ve seen it. I can name personal accounts on both hands of students and tenured instructors who have driven fresh-faced dancers to starvation and depression or spread nasty rumors to ruin chances of a contract; there’s no denying the prevalence of sexual harassment and grooming in such a predatory community like ballet. This is not to say that the events of the novels and show are representative of all ballet training programs and companies, but I’m pleading a case for the desperation of teenagers.
When & Where
The definition of contemporary fiction is often blurred with that of the realistic, but this book evenly fits both. It is set in modern day New York City in the closest recreation of a real world NYC elite ballet academy as possible, and most of the ballet terminology and constructs are fairly accurate. The same cannot be said for the show, but that’s a can of worms for another day.
Why & How
Charaipotra and Clayton both cite experience and proximity to the young dancers and training environments depicted in this book as inspiration, and use their ballet knowledge and YA know-how to craft a split narrative duology together. Equal perspectives are given to Gigi, Bette and June; Cassie opens each book with a prologue, meant to loom over the protagonists as a slighted foe. The first book stands at 438 pages, and the second at 384. Advertising and promotions boasted comparisons to “Pretty Little Liars”, “Gossip Girl”, and the aforementioned cult classic “Black Swan”.
Now that I’ve adequately wasted your time and brain space on this laundry list of preamble, I’m about to start hating. I’ve attempted to organize my thoughts in a semblance of structure, but many elements of my criticism overlap with comments on the show which I’ve saved for later.
First, I’d like to propose that the primary issue with this duology is that it overpromises and underdelivers. Filled with dramatic (extremely flowery) prose and bouts of backstabbing beyond belief, these books dig themselves into a deeper hole with every shock value deficient twist. When characters lack the substance, drive and development to meet the stakes of the plot, both fizzle. Unfortunately for Chaipotra and Clayton, the meat of their characters and knowledge of teenage interaction is made of microaggressions and tropes held together with hairspray, which also negates any claims to positive or groundbreaking representation they may stake.
Let’s start with the arguably leading lady. Gigi arrives at ABC flawless and light, one of Mr. K’s newest “butterflies”. She is never mean, never snaps, never bites back more than she should (at least for contents of the first book) and she is entirely unlikeable. She is distanced from her blackness except when it is used to alienate her from the ballet blanc that swirls around her. Gigi’s aunt is a vaguely hippie-ish yoga instructor (we think?) who lives in Brooklyn, and her parents are clinically absent and overly cautious about her condition. Gigi has light skin, perfect curls with a loose pattern and a thin build, of course. Her only imperfection is the heart condition she has been cursed with, but otherwise no traces of an eating disorder, bullying or pathological lying and addiction mar her angel-like countenance. Gigi's race is only brought up to show her otherness, but its never used as a point of discrimination besides the minor altercation with a costume designer quickly forgotten. It's constantly hammered in that she is a light, ethereal, fairylike, butterfly. She is never dark, and only mean after being brutalized by nonblack students. Her general insecurity and shyness falls away, and just as Gigi comes into her own as a star, she is literally thrown under a bus. Did I mention she also steals Alec away from Bette? You can’t make this stuff up.
The most underrated and underutilized character similarly struggles through Level 7. June’s eating disorder is worsened by competition and negative attention, as well as the bullying she receives from Sei-Jin and her self described clique of Asian-American dancers who exclude her; The reason being: June can’t speak Korean. This unnecessary tension is worsened when paired with the backstory of Sei-Jin kissing June (once her best friend) and subsequently threatening to lie to the entire school about June initiating the kiss. Again, these offscreen, pre-existing conflicts only occur to ratchet up the level of drama between June and other Asian dancers- no other reason. The guise of competition or a classic best friend-sidekick situation could have applied, or further exploration of June’s home dynamic and culture could have taken the place of such wasted page space.
Another inconsistency is that June’s eating disorder is looked down upon and shamed, when it is implied that numerous other students at ABC struggle with the same issue. One is expelled, facing the maximum consequences of the disease, but only June is ridiculed and whispered about as she tries to heal. The first book concludes as June is concealing her sickness, resenting her mother and discovering the hidden identity of her father (Spoiler alert: It’s Mr. Lucas, a fact very much neglected and forgotten from this point until the last chapters of the duology). Always prepared if nothing else, she takes the opportunity of Gigi being incapacitated because of hip surgery to prove how stunning she can be. However, on the night of her debut, the limelight is swept away from her by the newly healed, bone thin, Bette-but-brunette Cassie Lucas! Surprise!
Are you beginning to recognize a cycle occurring here? Cultural dissonance and tokenization of race fuel empty bits of the books masked as escalation of events. Each climax knocks everyone at the conservatory down multiple pegs, leaving the characters to scramble around new dynamics and further psychological damage; the old dynamics aren’t even strong enough to cement themselves before they change anyway. The cliffhanger endings and big reveals erase much - if not all- of the suspense, in which we are made to believe that an established 3 players will be vying for a place in the spotlight. Instead, it just gets messy and embarrassing.
Where is Queen Bette in all this?, you may ask. Trying to control her kingdom, or hold on to her reign...something like that. Unfortunately, Bette doesn’t do anything that hasn’t been done before. She schemes and sabotages, wages personal battles against her family for tragic backstory points, and grossly attempts to maintain her royal title. Her character attempts to evoke memories of the Sharpays, Allisons, Quinns and Reginas of the past, but rather becomes a hollow echo. Why is she so cruel? Why is she so good? We simply don’t know! The only time this missed opportunity of a character is compelling is at the beginning of the second book “Shiny Broken Pieces” when she has nothing to lose and everything to gain, proving her innocence to those who formerly worshipped her.
Well. Now that I’ve finished ranting about character inconsistencies and unfulfilled opportunities, I’d like to dig into the structure and plot of these novels for a bit. Initially, I was intrigued by the alternating 3 narrator structure of this duology. Equal page time for the main characters, all the more insight to the whodunnit moments and competition, and internal monologues for otherwise flat characters all enticed me. By the end of the books this was certainly not the case, and the structure failed to bear the load of the content it was required to carry. As discussed previously, amounts of development and romance are not equally distributed. Bette and Gigi are in a love triangle with Alex, playing out the stories they weave onstage in real life. June is (as always) cast to the side and yearns for Sei-Jin’s non dancer boyfriend Jayhe; Jayhe is also a prop who proposes an alternative to dance for June filled with normalcy, love and college.
If these books really wanted to stay true to a 3 act ballet structure, I would edit the structure as follows: Act One is told by Gigi, Act Two is told by Bette, and Act Three is told by June. By revealing the trials they go through in the first person and each respective ascent or descent to power, this structure would play to the strengths of introspection and evenly cover all bases. Or, as Clayton and Chaipotra seem to be set on doing, cutting out June altogether and proposing the Pale Beauty vs Dark Beauty (two of my favorite tropes) rivalry between Gigi and Bette would do the trick, since they each respectively lead the plot and attention of each book. Either way, allusions to the cast and characters of a story ballet are lost here with meandering narration and spotty development.
For my final point about the books that will segue into my discussion of the series at a later date, I would like to discuss how harmful representation is just as reprehensible as none at all. The failures to flesh out characters of color, demonization and antagonization of gay characters and all around lack of effort is an insult to each people group this franchise claims to represent. The TV series alters so many elements of this effort that the original attempts are near unrecognizable, but similarly fails to truly support the token minorities in its midst. I don’t know what we expected anyway, it’s literally Netflix! See you next week. Until then, be safe and be well.
P.S. It’s my 17th birthday today, FYI. Celebrate accordingly!
so good! <3