© Wesleyan UP Publishers Page This book is avilable from: Dance Books Amazon Renee Renouf reviews

Barbara Milberg is one of a number of one-time ballet dancers, born to Russian Jewish immigrants, who peopled New York-based ballet companies during the yeasty developmental decades of twentieth century American dance life. She writes, therefore, not only with a certain breezy assurance and wry realism, but also with that certain drive and passion characteristic of first-generation born Americans and most particularly those of Jewish parentage. The percentage of such contributors to the cultural matrix of the United States should not be discounted in the slightest.

Milberg describes her hyper-activity as a child which, along with piano lessons, caused her mother to place her in a local Brooklyn dance studio and soon after to the School of American Ballet when it was situated on the second floor of an uptown Madison Avenue building. As a teen-ager, utilizing an unused grand piano in a dimly lit studio brought her to the attention of George Balanchine. When a vacancy occurred during one of Ballet Society’s brief seasons, Balanchine stood in front of her and asked her whether she would like to join the corps de ballet.

Over a twelve-year period, Barbara Milberg moved from the corps de ballet to a soloist position, participating in the company’s move to City Center and its thrust into prominence in New York City’s cultural scene. She relates with considerable charm the experiences resulting from the company’s tours, first to England, then to Europe. Of particular interest was Balanchine’s arranging to have the company’s continental debut at the Lyceo Theater in Barcelona, thus preparing the dancers for the stage rake at the Paris Opera, where the company opened its first Paris season. Fisher provides the degree of rake, one inch for every three feet.

She also describes the confusion in Symphony in C’s second movement when a costume was sent for cleaning and caused substitution by the dancers of the nearest costume while one girl was inadvertently locked in a room. Fisher describes Lew Christensen as “the Viking”, implying a storm gathering by the minute.

Milberg was with the company when Tanaquil Le Clerq was stricken with poliomyelitis. With an engagement in Sweden, the company soldiered on, continuing to perform nearly a year without the guidance of Balanchine.

 

The Balanchine Milberg describes when creating Orpheus, Firebird, Agon is a more vibrant individual, closer in the flesh than he inevitably became as the dancers became younger and the choreographer older. The descriptions of the creations of these ballets, her impressions and analysis from her time perspective are particularly compelling.

Barbara Milberg married a man by the name of Fisher, leaving the company before New York City Ballet toured Japan and Australia because there was no position available to enabling her husband to accompany the troupe. Fortuitously Jerome Robbins engaged her as a principal dancer for Ballet USA’s first season of the Spoleto Festival. Milberg now Fisher proceeds to describe what this association provided in the way of exposure; not only a holiday in Europe, but trips to Yugoslavia, Greece, Israel and the White House to appear before the Kennedys and the Shah of Iran and his wife.

Subsequently, Milberg Fisher gave birth to two children and at some point decided to acquire a college degree. She kept on, I suspect with the aid of the Federal government’s grants for students, through a Ph.D. concentrating on English literature, particularly on seventeenth century poetry, although her doctoral thesis was on the American poet Wallace Stevens. She relates encountering Balanchine on a visit back stage, telling him she was learning ancient Greek, then disclosing how she facilitated the process by writing her grocery list in the Cyrillic alphabet, recalling Balanchine’s suggestion of practicing tendus while washing dishes.

Milberg Fisher writes a disciplined prose with admirable objectivity. Her anecdotes, free of cant, are filled with the talents and achievements of others, as well as the warmth and affection she feels for those she mentions or describes. One infers Milberg Fisher’s quality and achievements only indirectly.

She completes her memoir with her last class prior to retiring, feeding the graduate students’ cookies and coffee, asking them not only to recite poetry which meant something to each but also the reason for the choices. Milberg Fisher’s own choice were Prospero’s final lines from The Tempest.

I hope my account helps you to agree with my opening sentence.