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THE DANCER AND THE SWAN by James L. Peters Kirkus Star

THE DANCER AND THE SWAN

by James L. Peters

Pub Date: Aug. 1st, 2025
ISBN: 9798998588402
Publisher: SmallPub

In Peters’ novel, two very different Illinois women find unexpected strength and grace in each other.

Two months after her father dies, 53-year-old white Midwesterner Pauline Swanson becomes a hospice volunteer, thinking she can use the skills she learned while caring for him to help others. A sober alcoholic with no remaining family, she works as a bartender, lives frugally, and is consumed by regret about her behavior when she was young and troubled. Her first patient is Deborah “DeeDee” Deneaux, a 76-year-old Black businesswoman who has an advanced, incurable autoimmune disease. DeeDee initially rejects help, and she has a difficult relationship with her resentful son, Raymond, who arranged the hospice visits. Pauline persists, and as the two women get to know each other better, a true friendship blooms. Pauline is awed by DeeDee’s story of growing up in a close-knit family in New Orleans in the 1960s, training as a dancer, then going to San Francisco at age 18 with her brother, who joined the Black Panthers. Barely able to make rent as a diner waitress, DeeDee became an exotic dancer and stripper, then put herself through college as a single working mother. She tells her story proudly, which is a revelation to Pauline, who holds back details of her own past, due to feelings of shame. When DeeDee pleads for Pauline to take her out for one last night on the town, she reluctantly agrees, despite her worries about DeeDee’s weakening condition. Not long afterward, Pauline gets an unexpected reminder of a childhood trauma, and she faces a gut-wrenching decision.

The novel interweaves Pauline’s first-person, present-tense story and DeeDee’s, told in third person, past tense. Both women’s voices effectively convey their strong personalities; Pauline’s directness is often disconcerting to others, although her thoughts are much snarkier than her speech. DeeDee centers her New Orleans Creole heritage, sprinkling conversations with dawlin’ and bits of French; she affectionately calls Pauline “mon cygne.” Peters’ writing features apt descriptions—the senior living apartment building where DeeDee resides has “a cozy, almost Victorian vibe with a hint of Howard Johnson’s”—and lovely passages, as when Pauline imagines her own ashes after death: “I will dust the dreams of lovers, be a mote in the eyes of those who hate, grit the icy walkways to steady slippery steps, and choke the voices that lie and slander.” The characters are well-rounded and distinct; they’re sometimes blind to their own feelings but psychologically astute about others’; for example, DeeDee tells Pauline that Raymond “doesn’t so much try to mean well, as he likes to feel as if he tries to mean well.” The novel handles weighty themes frankly and with nuance, as when Pauline asks DeeDee how she survived racism and prejudice, and she replies, “Getting a kick out of your past-tense there, dawlin’.” Although her body is weakening, DeeDee remains as vibrant as ever, while Pauline’s perseverance, and her journey toward love and self-acceptance, are memorable throughout.

A moving story of friendship, family, and recovery.