Book Review of Instructions for Dancing
A Dance with Discontent: My Thoughts on "Instructions for Dancing" by Nicola Yoon
When I first picked up Instructions for Dancing by Nicola Yoon, I was drawn in by the premise of a story that promised to explore love, loss, and the complexities of relationships through the lens of Yvette, a young woman who has sworn off romance altogether. But as I flipped through the pages, I found myself immersed in a tale that, despite its lovely moments, left me grappling with some unsettling themes and characterizations that ultimately dimmed my enthusiasm.
The story kicks off with Yvette, disillusioned by love and ready to donate her collection of contemporary romance novels. It’s the kind of setup that grabs your heart—who hasn’t felt that bitter sweetness when love seems like a futile pursuit? But as Yvette’s journey progresses, her transition from a non-believer to someone who falls deeply in love felt abrupt and lacking in nuance. The transformation is almost a classic case of insta-love, and it left me wishing for more depth in her character development.
As we delve deeper into the ensemble cast—think an ultimately forgettable supporting crew, where each character feels more like a set piece than a complex person—it becomes clear that they don’t carry enough weight. While I could define each character in a single sentence, they simply didn’t resonate. Yvette’s quick descent back into love feels jarring against the backdrop of her initial skepticism. X, the “hot and exciting” love interest, left me more bemused than intrigued, and the other friends felt like caricatures rather than fully fleshed-out individuals.
But the real dilemma for me—a reader who cherishes emotional honesty—was the book’s handling of infidelity. Yvette’s father’s affair with Shirley serves as the story’s major conflict, but instead of examining the emotional fallout, it spins into a celebration of romantic love that feels both misplaced and unjust. I found myself cringing at scenes that depicted how easily the narrative glossed over the ramifications of cheating, transforming pain into awkward acceptance.
A particularly painful moment arrived during a bridal shower where Shirley’s mother glorified her daughter’s new relationship with a man who was once a father and husband, bluntly ignoring the moral implications. I couldn’t reconcile this celebration of infidelity with my own values, and it left a sour taste in my mouth. Yoon’s attempt to show the complexity of human emotions felt flat, leaving me frustrated rather than enlightened.
Despite my criticisms, there’s a vibrant prose style in Yoon’s writing that shines through moments of levity. Her knack for capturing the rush and tumble of young love is palpable, making the relatable highs and lows come alive. Still, it’s overshadowed by the themes I can’t support, leaving me torn in my assessment.
In conclusion, Instructions for Dancing might still resonate with readers who seek romantic escapism, but readers like myself, who hold strong opinions on fidelity, will likely find their enjoyment hindered. Ultimately, this book sparks discussion—provoking thoughts on love, trust, and family dynamics—that could resonate deeply, though perhaps not for the reasons Yoon intended. If you can overlook the troubling elements and simply want a whimsical dance through young romance, then perhaps give it a go. But if, like me, the complexities of relationships weigh heavily on your heart, consider this a read at your own risk.
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