Talk with anyone about nostalgia and the topic of favorite childhood movies is guaranteed to come up. For some it's Little Mermaid, Ninja Turtles, or Aladdin. Two of them, for me, are Balto and Iron Will.

The idea of being alone in a wilderness dependent on a symbiotic relationship with a pack of near wild dogs mesmerized me. And it does to this day. In high school, I visited Alaska to help build cabins, and everything that referenced dog sleds and the Iditarod completely pulled my attention.

I'm married now and 31 years old. My husband would kill me. But if I ever were to pull a Wild or Eat, Pray, Love, it would be to train and run the Iditarod. Losing my entire nose to frostbite be damned. Which may have some connection to my husband killing me. I can't blame the man for not wanting a noseless wife.

Winterdance absolutely captivated me. I don't remember the last time a memoir has ever gripped me the same way. I prefaced the beginning of the review to explain why this book captured me the way it did. A few errors and misprints here and there popped out, but maybe impressed me all the more as to what a great author Gary Paulsen is sans a major editor. That said, his book may not hook everyone the same way although I highly recommend it.

And...Gary is a hilarious author. The training scene he describes when they ran into a half a dozen skunks had me laughing nonstop for several pages, finished by the conversation between Gary and his wife afterwards:
"What are you doing?"
"Coming to bed."
"Here?"
I stopped. "Where else?"
She let out her breath and I realized she had been holding it the whole time. "Couldn't you kind of, you know, for a night or two, sleep outside?"
"With the dogs?"
She smiled. "I knew you'd understand."
"In the kennel?"
She nodded, pulling back under the covers. "You're so smart about these things."

I have every intention of buying this book and rereading it one day.

I'd rate this book a PG-13 (although that may be generous due to the moderate number of F words) due to swearing, adult content, mention of alcohol, violence and danger, and some mild adult humor.

I really enjoyed Gary Paulsen's tale of becoming a sled dog runner, getting to know his dogs, and preparing to run the Iditarod. It was informational, for me, as I didn't know anything about how the Iditarod was set up. But also, very entertaining! I've read several of Paulsen's children's adventures, so I was pleased with this nonfiction (with a few embellishments?) book. He is a wonderful storyteller!

Couldn't put it down. Such a great story and great writer, and sad to have lost him now.

A delightful read! This is a true story that will leave you laughing your head off... the perfect read over Christmas!! I was fascinated by all I learned about Alaska and the Iditarod! I do not think it is possible to laugh just once in this book! You can try and prove me wrong however! :) I dare you.

2023: read again with ladies in my co-op. I thought I wouldn’t laugh as much since I already knew where the funny parts were, most of them, but that was not the case. I still died laughing. He is a great story-teller, even if he is still completely crazy. I’m glad he wrote this adventure down because each time I read it I get more out do it. The nature the good and the bad of it, and the call to a simpler life, if not harder life. Since reading nourishing traditions and other Alaskan books like The Eskimo Twins I really appreciate the old man in Norton Sound and his wisdom. I’m also glad I still liked it as much as I did. I always worry about that especially when I read the book B.C. (Before Charlotte)

A very entertaining book. The humor was great. Always love a book on dogs. I had forgot that I read this book in middle school!

I get really irritated by ego trip books written by people who go adventuring (think mountain climbing or sailing solo) and keep detailed journals just to publish a "look at what I did" book.

Gary Paulsen's Winterdance is definitely not that. He lives and breathes dog sledding, the American north woods, and writing. He'd have run the Iditarod even if he wasn't a writer. He'd have raiseed sled dogs even if he wasn't a writer. He'd have lived through bitter cold Minnesota winters even if he wasn't a writer. But it so happens that he is a writer, and a very talented one at that.

Highly recommended quick read for just about anyone. Beautifully descriptive and emotive without being wordy or pretentious.

My first book on dogsledding, and still my favorite. I can't remember when I last read it, guess that means it is time to read it again.

It’s been a long time since I’ve read Winterdance, but I remember the profound feeling I had upon finishing it. A beautiful novel if you love dogs, nature, and adventure.

Having a passion for running sled dogs, Gary Paulsen decided to enter the Iditarod. It seemed a good idea at the time--after all, the race is only 1180 miles long--in the winter--in Alaska. In Paulsen's case, ignorance was bliss. After, in his view, adequate training, Paulsen and his 15 dog team began the Iditarod which turned out to be seventeen days of Hell. He and his dogs suffered blinding snowstorms, frostbite, moose attacks, dog fights, roaring winds, and a host of other challenges. This book should be a cautionary tale, but, in fact, it is hilarious. I laughed until I couldn't read bcause of the tears in my eyes, I laughed until the shouts from the other room of "we can't hear the television or ourselves think" registered on my brain. I laughed until my officemate asked me if everything was okay. And still I laughed. Run, don't walk, to find a copy of this book.

Slow to go....I just kept thinking what an idiot this guy must be, and how much abuse is he going to cause himself.

In a slightly different world, I might have found this book completely incomprehensible.

Of those who know me, I doubt a single person would describe me as "outdoorsy". I certainly don't mind a walk down a well-worn scenic path now and then, but a general dislike of dirt and mess combined with a very specific fear of getting lost pretty much preclude camping, hiking, or breaking trail of any sort. My strengths lie far more in the "city" environment - urbane manners, snarky wit, discerning judgment of food, drink, movies, plays, and other entertainments.

So the fact that I was this emotionally affected by a book that's entirely about a man finding joy in some of the harshest outdoor environments and one of the most unpredictable sports in the world, a man who becomes further and further estranged from "civilization" as the story goes on, would seem a bit odd at first glance. Where's the attraction? Why would reading this be such an emotional experience for someone whose passions are more along the lines of mixing drinks and analyzing stories?

Part of it is the writing. Paulsen is excellent at the sort of spare, elegant prose that nonetheless sticks in your mind. Even if you have no remotely comparable experience with which to identify with his story, he makes the world of his rookie Iditarod run - stumbling through completely unfamiliar terrain, hallucinating from lack of sleep, nearly dying of cold despite wearing every stitch of clothing he owns, being dragged on his face almost more often than standing upright on the runners - real and surprisingly sympathetic. The story is insane - he, by his own admission, is completely insane - and yet you have to root for him because he and his dogs want this so badly.

But another part of it is likely also my background. I grew up in Anchorage (in fact, I was born the year the race he describes took place), during the transitional time when it was really changing from being a large Alaskan town to a small city, more similar to the rest of the US than Alaska. (The joke these days is that Anchorage is "near Alaska".) In my teens, I moved to a small town in the Arctic, one of the coldest and most desolate places in the world. I've also lived in the Interior, and in Juneau; I've experienced, to a smaller degree, many of the utterly extreme and breathtakingly beautiful scenarios Paulsen talks about.

Something about those experiences, about the place, sticks with you. I may be a self-avowed city girl, far more interested in intellectual pursuits than the primal pitting of the human spirit against nature's fury, but as I've lived and traveled here in the "Lower '48" I've become more and more appreciative of exactly how unique and rare Alaska is in this age of near-overpopulation. And for all my youthful desperation to leave it in pursuit of a place more appropriate to my interests, some part of me is glad - no, some part of me is overjoyed - to be reminded that it's still there; to know that folks like Gary Paulsen can do truly stupid and ridiculous things like run a team of dogs over more than 1,100 miles of wilderness in the midst of some of the harshest weather on this planet, and be better people for it. Who knows - I may even feel the call to return myself, someday.

I literally could not put this book down. I took it to bed, fell asleep with the light on reading it, woke up with the light on and read some more. I recently read the book welcome to the goddamn ice cube by Blair Braverman, which was also wonderful. I loved Winterdance, too. A very different book because it was written by a man who did not experience sexual harassment. Paulsen invites readers along on his shoestring travels to Alaska to complete the Iditarod as a novice. And I do mean a novice. He doesn’t know about dogs he doesn’t know about sleds he doesn’t know about the ins and outs of the Iditarod. But he learns some brutal lessons along the way and some wonderful ones. His descriptions of camaraderie with the dogs is touching, the beauty of Alaska is vivid, and his constant admissions of ignorance make him a lovable protagonist. Good lessons here about the Iditarod and about writing a memoir.