I'm only 45 pages into Gelsey Kirkland's autobiography, but I'm liking this book more than I thought I would. Although her enmity for Balanchine and what his system did to her is palpable, she spares no one else either. Not even herself. This is not a book about hate and bitterness, though; it's about introspection and honest analysis. Definitely not the usual self-justification you find in many celebrity autobiographies.
I don't think I'll have any problem finishing it well before the library wants it back.
On a more mundane note, I went to class Thursday to catch up with the old group and do some stretching. There are two new students, and as we've often suggested, the instructor took the time to explain things in more detail so they wouldn't feel quite so lost. The result, though, was that we did very little in the 50 minutes now allotted to that class. It's more of a social activity than a dance class for me.