Pazcoguin made history as the first female Asian American soloist at the New York City Ballet. Her absolute joy in dancing shines through in this memoir of rising through the ranks. But success came with psychological costs in a discipline where "there is no separation between our bodies and our art form." Her talent acknowledged, she felt pressure to "dim her light" and to fit in to the point of changing her body. Stereotyping limited her choice of roles. Looking back, the dancer recognizes the "shame and brokenness" imposed on her through intimidation and bias. Swan Dive recounts its author's emotional tug-of-war between professional growth and staying true to herself. Pazcoguin's irreverent, conversational writing is appealing: funny, poignant, and sometimes understandably angry. Word pictures, such as anxiety "whir[ring] inside of me constantly, not unlike a high-powered blender," evoke her personality. Although this story takes place within an elite ballet company, it speaks to a broad audience. Who doesn't yearn for the "complete and utter magic" she feels "when all the bullshit is swept aside"?

Behind the scenes with an acclaimed ballerina.At 14, Pazcoguin, who had been dancing since she was 4, won a scholarship to the summer program at the School of American Ballet, launching her on a path to join the New York City Ballet. In her brisk, spirited debut memoir, the author recounts her experiences in the competitive, hierarchical ballet world, from the "elitist cult" of the corp de ballet to her promotion as the "first Asian American woman soloist in the history of the company." Despite talent, ambition, and hard work, Pazcoguin became frustrated that racial stereotypes barred her from roles she coveted. "Need an ambiguously ethnic, badass female?" she recalled. "It's Paz to the rescue!" Even in The Nutcracker, she found that she was assigned to the B cast, composed of people of color, while the A cast featured lighter-skinned dancers. She directs unmitigated anger at former NYCB director Peter Martins, who "wanted me in a cage, to be okay with his idea of what a dancer who looks like me should be." After he criticized the size of her thighs, she went to a doctor who prescribed that she eat 720 calories per day for the next four months. Trained to find everything wrong with her body, she came to see herself as a "monster," eventually spending $10,000 on liposuction. "As I've grown older and wiser," she reflects, "I can see that the younger me twisted sacrifice into something darker. Especially when it came to Peter's subjective view of what my body should look like." Despite the abusive culture that Martins fomented, Pazcoguin never lost her passion for ballet. Besides performing throughout the world with other companies, she danced on Broadway in Cats: a challenging role and a window on a more nurturing culture than she had known on the ballet stage.A lively chronicle of dedication and joy.

Pazcoguin, New York City Ballet-s first Asian American soloist, reveals the grimy underbelly of elite stagecraft and the extreme passions that fuel it in this rollicking debut. She affectionately recounts her 1980s childhood in Pennsylvania, where she started dancing at age four. (-I didn-t know what I was doing, but... I wanted to move this way all the time,- she recounts.) At age 13, Pazcoguin attended the School of American Ballet in New York, where she thrived under the grueling regimen but felt battered by racism and body shaming, including one instance in which the artistic director said -you don-t really fit in from here... to there,- pointing to her thighs. She also exposes the truth about ballet-s sequins and tulle: costumes go unwashed for years, and the glittering snow in The Nutcracker (which she calls the -NUTBUSTER- because it-s such a grind) is swept up and dumped right back onto dancers- heads the next night. Pazcoguin-s humorous asides entertain, though at times they can undermine the abuse she endured. (-I-ve felt the pain... I-ve even farted onstage and survived.-) While the juicy details of beautiful people behaving badly are beguiling, it-s Pazcoguin-s unsparing criticism of the industry that begs an encore. This is potent stuff. (July)