Ali Stroker

There needs to be many more books written about disabled tweens and teens doing anything and everything. This was a step towards that, written by a disabled woman who won a Tony for her work in "Oklahoma!" and was nominated for several other awards in the same production. This is a fantastic start and I appreciate it greatly. The book was uh, a lot to deal with, I say as a disabled live musical theatre actor. I want others to adore it. I did not, and my review's gonna unpopular. TLDR: I didn't like the story very much, but it's a big step forward socially.

I should have loved this. Had this book come out when I was thirteen, I absolutely would have. I was in my second season of semi-professional musical theatre then. The author is way, way too good at writing in the voice, style, and content of a thirteen-year-old. It's grating and goes on up to and including the author's interviews. Please write like adults during interviews! They call the interviews talkbacks, which is an actual theatre thing. It is not cute here. It's ramming in "do you get that this is theatre?" over and over for too long. It...was a choice they made. Every chapter is a lyric from a musical. I was pleasantly surprised at how many I identified. The author wrote this as a celebration of disabled tweens. She chooses to use lots of CAPITALIZATION to indicate when someone is LOUD. Song lyrics are italicized. So is every.single. "thank you, five," in here. IT is not CHANTED. We just SAY it. See, I can CAPITALIZE, too. Isn't it ANNOYING? The book's style is heavy on exclamation points, excitement and slang. Grating. There are elements and a massive spoiler I do want to explore because THEY ARE UNREALISTIC, but the review would turn waaaay darker if I did The kids constantly break into song, whose lyrics are italicized. Uh, real-life former child performer here: we do, but not -nearly- that often. It's during hair, makeup, and part of warmups when a score is playing, not how they portrayed it here. The only time something like that remotely happened was when I was part of a straight show (non-musical) and the director, annoyed, told the kids they couldn't sing..

One thing I desperately wish the author would have done was establish the level of professionalism of the company (community, semi-professional, professional), more clearly throughout the book. With how loose their casting is, I'm guessing it's super-permissive community, which by itself is fine. Just name it, author. Ensemble actors rarely go into lead roles (looking at you, plot of "Phantom of the Opera" and Christine Daae, which is one of my fave musicals). Unless, of course, they are specially named and trained as the understudy or swing. IT WAS NEVER MENTIONED HERE. Only a paragraph would make me feel better, but it was just "you're ensemble," and we're not having you dance" to a relatively sudden "Be Elpheba." Petty moment: Nat notes "Wicked" came out before she was born and I seethed, "I was fourteen when it came out, you little shit." Why did she point that out? What did it add to the story or characterization? Nothing. It had no purpose. It was obnoxious and further annoyed me.

I've gone through the real-life equivalent of what Nat thinks is totes awesome and easy and amazeballs. I was not prepared. It was not something I wanted or imagined. This is known as Actor's Nightmare: you don't know your lines, have no costume, are late, and the directors are going, "C'mon, c'mon, out onstage! You're up!" I was Viola's understudy in "Twelfth Night," had an ensemble role otherwise, and was prepared for -that.- That's not what happened. I stepped in for someone totally different. One of the actresses in the ensemble beside me was ill, I found out at call. Costume designers shoved me into her costume as hairdressers yanked my hair into complicated braids and makeup artists flew at me, all at once. I memorized the lines when I was offstage. Our ensemble roles had no understudies, but we were in half the play together. That was all in one day, one performance, one ensemble role. This was a semi-professional youth theatre. I was in my fifth season with the company. I got through it excellent, according to the company, but I don't want to do it again. As of this writing, this was nearly twenty years ago.

Nat adapts unrealistically well from ensemble to freakin' LEAD, all in her first production! I cannot emphasize how the entire thing would never happen. Plot contrivance, verily and yea. When the part about the harness celebration came, I stamped my feet briefly. HARNESSES HAVE BEEN USED SINCE THE 70s, when "Peter Pan" was on Broadway, and earlier. They're celebrating a set piece like it was just invented! WHY, AUTHOR, WHY? And a kid is going into the harness? Safety issue! I desperately wish the author had made different choices. The frenemy thing was annoying. This reads like a tween's wish fulfillment, which...it is. Doesn't mean I'm patient. Other books about disabled tween performances need to be written. I hope this starts a trend so I can draw positive comparisons and reviews.… (altro)