Sharon Oard Warner

Sharon Oard Warner

Learning to Dance and Other Stories

Learning to Dance

writ­ten by Sharon Oard Warn­er
New Rivers Press, 1996
ISBN 978–0‑8982–3132‑8

Recognition

Min­neso­ta Voic­es Project Win­ner 1990

Reviews

“At first, few of the women and men in Sharon Oard Warn­er’s debut col­lec­tion seem capa­ble of danc­ing. The book includes char­ac­ters who are actu­al­ly hand­i­capped— women with polio and cere­bral pal­sy, a pro­found­ly retard­ed teen-age girl and, in the title sto­ry, deaf bal­let students—as well as char­ac­ters weighed down by the more com­mon­place bur­dens of bereave­ment, aban­don­ment and divorce. All in some way lack con­trol of their lives, and Ms. Warn­er’s del­i­cate­ly nuanced tales demon­strate their attempts to gain some mea­sure of free­dom or pow­er. But the selec­tions in Learn­ing to Dance are also love sto­ries, illus­trat­ing not the joys of phys­i­cal and emo­tion­al com­mu­nion but their tremen­dous costs: in ‘A Sim­ple Mat­ter of Hunger,’ for instance, a fos­ter moth­er faces the pain of her attach­ment to a baby with AIDS. It is a trib­ute to Ms. Warn­er’s skill that none of these sit­u­a­tions appear melo­dra­mat­ic or mawk­ish. Her mov­ing fic­tion forces us to inhab­it realms that are sor­row­ful­ly famil­iar from news reports and con­tem­po­rary cul­ture —one, ‘Christi­na’s World,’ is writ­ten from the view­point of the woman in Andrew Wyeth’s painting—but which we pre­fer to acknowl­edge from a dis­tance. Although her pre­cise images bring us uncom­fort­ably close, these sto­ries are sel­dom despair­ing. Instead, they inspire applause for Ms. Warn­er’s tal­ent and for her char­ac­ters’ strug­gles to live, to love and even to dance.” (Lau­rel Grae­ber, The New York Times Review of Books)

“Car­ol, the young under­grad­u­ate in ‘Birds’—a sto­ry in Warn­er’s first collection—takes a matron’s job at an insti­tu­tion for pro­found­ly retard­ed girls. She meets Beth, a patient whose self-abu­sive prac­tices include goug­ing her­self with her fin­ger­nails and beat­ing her head against walls. Car­ol alone dis­cerns in Beth ‘the grace of an ath­lete or dancer.’ Dur­ing a series of unau­tho­rized field trips, Car­ol dis­cov­ers that the direc­tion of Beth’s fierce ener­gies shift from self-mul­ti­la­tion to an inno­cent wildness—a fear­less let­ting-go that Car­ol has sup­pressed in her­self. Here as else­where in these sto­ries, women who are strangers to one anoth­er become co-con­spir­a­tors in escape from a mul­ti­tude of pris­ons: insti­tu­tions, mar­riages and per­son­al fears. Most poignant is ‘A Sim­ple Mat­ter of Hunger,’ detail­ing a young moth­er’s strug­gle to care for her adopt­ed infant—nearly a stranger—dying of AIDS. Warn­er ren­ders with gen­uine pathos the wom­an’s real­iza­tion that the child, like birds in a field star­tled by human intru­sion, will ulti­mate­ly be ‘just out of my reach.’” (Pub­lish­ers Week­ly)

“Although her pre­cise images bring us uncom­fort­ably close, these sto­ries are sel­dom despair­ing. ” ( The New York Times Book Review)

“These sto­ries do not say: I am going to write about dis­abled peo­ple. They say: Some lives are hid­den.” (Grace Paley, MS Mag­a­zine)

“The usu­al book-review jar­gon does­n’t cap­ture just how good, how alive, how orig­i­nal are Sharon Oard Warn­er’s tales … ” (The Des Moines Reg­is­ter)

Learning to Dance

writ­ten by Sharon Oard Warn­er
New Rivers Press, 1996
ISBN 978–0‑8982–3132‑8

Look for this book at your favorite library or used bookseller.