A Tincture of Tango

Review: Our Tango World: Volumes 1 and 2 by Iona Italia

I confess that when I first cracked open Iona Italia’s two books on tango, I was somewhat prepared not to be convinced. Other than occasionally taking to the floor in a cheap club after a few drinks, I am no dancer. And I admit a general preference for the sedentary over the active. Yet while Italia was never going to make a dancer out of me, her two volumes have opened my eyes to the beautiful multitudes which tango contains, and to the universal lessons which it can teach.

(Disclaimer: Iona is a friend and colleague. That said, I take my job as a book reviewer seriously. If I hadn’t enjoyed her work, I would either say nothing or be kind but critical. As it happens, I did enjoy her books.)

Volume 1, released in 2018, focuses on “learning and community,” while volume 2, released last month, takes us through the highs and lows of the milonga, a term which has multiple meanings (Italia provides a helpful glossary in each volume). In this context, it refers to the dance events attended socially by those who Italia describes as being votaries of the “tango gods.”

Italia is a former academic, an editor of Areo Magazine, host of the Two for Tea podcast, and, most relevantly for these books, a dance-enthusiast resident of tango’s native Buenos Aires, Argentina. Each of these background traits meaningfully contributes to the final product—the reader is treated to a work that is intellectually stimulating, well-written, lively rather than dull, and quite learned on the topic of tango.

Crucially for me and for my fellow non-tango worshipers, the lovely writing makes these books a worthwhile read all on its own. Italia writes elegantly but invitingly. Her language is clear and crisp, but not plain. It is adorned with linguistic decorations and arresting imagery. Tango dancers often “decorate” their moves to add a bit of flavor to the dance or to express the music in a certain way, and Italia is a self-confessed “baroque” decorator in dance. So too with language:

Music makes the body eloquent. And when we dance we put ourselves into a state of intense receptiveness, a deep listening in which the quietest whispers won’t go unheard.

Italia sprinkles these pages with a smattering of literary, historical, and pop culture references. She doesn’t do this to show off, nor are her choices opaque. Whether quoting lines from John Donne or referencing the forest moon of Endor from Star Wars, Italia gets her point across without making the reader feel as if he ought to have a reference book on hand.

There is humor, too, as when she implores, “for the love of Jesus, don’t wear a fedora,” a useful caution for those tragically under the mistaken impression that the item is still fashionable at the milonga.

As for the inhabitants of the world of tango, Italia treats us to a zoological tour of “some milonga fauna” in volume 2. The Buenos Aires tango scene is “a rich and diverse ecosystem in which many different life forms find their ecological niches,” including, alas, “bottom feeders” — seedy men who prey on inexperienced or new dancers at the milonga. (“It’s all about suitable environments and convergent evolution” says Italia, an example of the book’s penchant for scientific as well as literary decoration).

There are other “fauna” too, scattered throughout both volumes, from whiny men who can’t find a partner, to women who bitch about each other because they haven’t been picked, to expert dancers and same-sex ones who express masculinity or femininity in their own deep way. There are also different milonga scenes, enough to suit everybody, from old-fashioned and formal to casual and crazy.

Italia describes herself as an “incorrigible tango slut,” and it’s not hard to see why — the joy of the dance sounds wonderful, and above all it teaches lessons with wide applicability. If anything has made me want to dance, it’s Italia’s description of why she dances: “To express myself through the music, to communicate how I hear the music to the other person in the embrace.” To feel expressive, musical, beautiful, connected, in other words.

And for those of us with little knowledge of the dance, the books contain images to sharpen our understanding of it. Italia says dancers can be strategists or tacticians who can plan their moves ahead like a chess grandmaster or improvise as they go along together:

Be a master strategist, a Sun Tzu of the dance floor, if you can, if you wish. But be ready, always, for last-minute changes of plan. Equip yourself for guerrilla warfare.

Tango, Italia shows, is cosmopolitan and diverse, yet devoid of identity politics; it is urbane and universal. It is a dance born of the mingling of different cultures in Argentina — an impure and, therefore, beautiful dance. It is, as Salman Rushdie described his book The Satanic Verses, “a love song to our mongrel selves.” These books are themselves love songs to the love song that is tango. As she describes the tango world:

We’re a small, but select, bunch, with some of the characteristics of a sect, a cult or a minority religion, like my own Zoroastrianism. We are like an ethnic group with few members, like my own tiny native tribe of Parsis. But one with no violent or intolerant doctrines, no punitive laws, no genocidal history. This is an identity I am happy to claim. And no cherry picking is needed. Tango is all cherries.

That last point, about identity, is one of the main themes of the books. Italia says we all choose our identities. This is especially true of those who, like Italia, have multiple backgrounds and who have traveled and lived in various places across the world. In a globalized world, full of migrants, it is necessary to find new ways of expressing identity which don’t rely on narrow tribal definitions. Tango, as a mongrel dance, is clearly an appealing way to do so. (The cherry-picking image is characteristically clever and neat, light of touch yet full of meaning.)

And tango teaches us broader lessons: to handle rejection well at the milonga, or not to judge the mistakes of others too harshly, for we are often severely lacking ourselves. It also teaches us to keep learning, for perfection is, if not unattainable, then almost. As with life, so too with tango: “the journey is all there is.” Our busy, stressful personal lives and our shrieking political culture would be enriched if they imbibed these lessons — a tincture of tango would do us all good.

I have a couple of minor criticisms and broader reflections. I would’ve liked to have learned more about the history of tango. These books are more concerned with its practice and philosophy. That’s no bad thing, but I wanted to hear more about the glimpses we do get about the development of the dance. In perusing other books on the topic I came across Robert Farris Thompson’s Tango: The Art History of Love, which takes the more historical approach. On occasion, Italia takes it for granted that the reader is conversant with tango music and musicians.

It would also be interesting to compare Italia’s books with tango-themed fiction, such as The Gods of Tango by Carolina de Robertis. Dance is, after all, a three-dimensional activity. How can literature bear out its history and sheer expressiveness? Reading more on the history of tango and the dance in a literary context would surely deepen one’s understanding and complement Italia’s works.

But these are quibbles. Our Tango World comprises a pair of finely written, educational, accessible, and deeply humane books. All in all, Italia has captured the fascinating world of tango, with all its various rhythms, in an aesthetically pleasing way which is accessible to the outsider.