Dance With Me is a novella written by Livia J Elliot and I was kindly sent an advance copy by the author in exchange for a fair and honest review. Previously released as an interactive fiction ‘book-with-choices’ through Unearthed Stories, this hardback and paperback version features beautiful illustrations by José Arturo Bustamante and allows previous readers to explore the tale in a new way.

The story is told entirely from the perspective of Lyra, a magical toy ballerina. Her entire world consists of her music box and the cupboard where this has been placed, along with various other old and new enchanted toys. Unlike the traditional toys I remember from my own childhood, Lyra isn’t a mechanical decoration on her music box and the magic used to bring her to life allows her to perform ballet dances of her own invention.

Lyra is given to a young elven boy and from the moment she is brought to life through the enchantment she strives for perfection, seeking love and praise from him. Unfortunately, like most children, once his initial interest in his new toy has waned the boy quickly discovers other, crueller ways to find his enjoyment.

The author explains in her note at the end of the novella that this story is very dear to her and is based on her own life experiences and personal struggles. Lyra’s story is therefore a metaphor for some serious themes including trauma, emotional and physical abuse and depression, which means this isn’t an easy read. However, those themes are made much more accessible, and thus easier for the reader to deal with, by being one step removed from reality through Elliot’s allegorical tale.

These issues are handled using the device of an old-fashioned fantasy fable, telling a simple story at first sight which explores more uncomfortable truths once you look beneath the surface. The central part of the story involves a physically and emotionally abusive relationship between the ballerina and the boy. Despite this Lyra constantly excuses his actions and tells herself she’s the one at fault. The result is a denial of reality, which appears on the page using the conceit of crossed out words, which are substituted for a preferred, more palatable version of the truth. Lyra is in denial about her circumstances, pretending to herself things are different even when they are clearly not.

Elliot balances the tough passages involving Lyra and the boy with lighter moments, highlighting the fact that even in difficult circumstances there is still hope and the opportunity to grow and perhaps even flourish. Lyra encounters other toys, some old and careworn, others long forgotten as they wait in their cupboard to be played with once more. As they share their collective experiences with Lyra her perspective on life slowly changes and, perhaps, there is a chance for her to love and feel love in return – if she is only brave enough to seize the opportunity.
The result is a clever, dark, psychological fairy tale. This isn’t like the sanitised versions popular in the children’s section in the library, instead taking the reader into the space inhabited by the darker versions of those stories as they were originally told. As I said earlier, Dance With Me is not always a light and comfortable read. Yet for those of us who, like Lyra, are struggling with life and facing trauma of their own, this book could be an important one.