The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Tuesday, April 16, 2019 — 5

A stage name is special. Oftentimes, it’s a unique 
representation of a creative identity that an artist feels 
his or her given name does not properly personify.

In the short span of three years, 
Sally Rooney has evolved from 
essayist to fiction writer to “the 
first great millennial novelist.” 
Rooney got a New Yorker interview 
in January, told The Guardian that 
she “do(esn’t) respond to authority 
very well” and has a 10-minute 
YouTube video on writing and 
Marxism. She’s a veritable cultural 
event, heralded for her bare prose, 
biting irony and slow burn of love 
in the time of late capitalism. Just 
check out what happens when 
you search #normalpeople on 
Instagram.
“Normal People” drops in the 
States on Tuesday, Apr. 16, and 
The Michigan Daily Book Review 
is 
celebrating 
by 
reviewing 
Rooney’s fiction career, last to 
first. Catch “Normal People” on 
the 16th, “Conversations with 
Friends” on the 17th and “Mr 
Salary” on the 18th.
When 
I 
first 
reopened 
“Normal People” this past week 
to brainstorm this review, I was 
struck with a potent nostalgia. 
It had been three months since 
I’d first read Sally Rooney’s 
second novel, and still, there it 
was: a form of wistfulness about 
the journey of reading the book 
through for the first time. There 
was some jealousy of my past 
self and the first, traumatic slog 
through the book, too, mixed also 
with a bit of love for the characters 
in the story. This familiar nostalgia 
didn’t come from any one place and 
is maybe too difficult to interpret, 
but I think it speaks volumes to 
the real, raw power of “Normal 
People.”
“Normal People” is Rooney’s 
follow up to the equally popular 
“Conversations 
with 
Friends,” 
and her elegance continues to 
defy standards. Rooney’s novel is a 
story about contemporary love and 
companionship to its gut, though 
not love in the sense of archaic 
Austen or young and modern John 
Green. Rooney sculpts her own 
breed of intimate story, one maybe 

best paralleled with Kundera’s 
“The Unbearable Lightness of 
Being.” Like Kundera, “Normal 
People,” to its core is about just this 
— normal people.
Longlisted for the 2018 Man 
Booker Prize, Rooney’s book alters 
between the firsthand narratives 
of 
Connell 
and 
Marianne, 
beginning with their final year 
in high school and ending with 
their last in college. At the start 
of the book, the two begin the 
groundwork of a relationship just 
before graduating — Marianne 
the outcast of their high school 
and Connell the popular, smart 
guy among their peers. The two 
keep things secret until Connell 
neglects to ask Marianne to 
the dance, at which point she 

disconsolately severs contact. It 
sounds terribly stereotypical, and 
maybe even more stereotypical to 
say, “this version is different,” but 
it really is. Even from its inception, 
the story is carefully written. 
It is not penned to target a teen 
audience or rework an intimate 
love story. It is merely about two 
absolutely mundane characters 
that Rooney knows with a sacred 
intimacy and to whom she is 
allowing us access.
As Connell and Marianne enter 
college and their paths cross again 
and again, Rooney starts to bring to 
fruition one of the most accurate, 
gentle stories about the transition 
from adolescence to adulthood. 
Rooney writes brilliantly of topics 
emotive and familiar, studying the 
normal of awkward introductory 

sex and the strange, young space 
of relationships while parents 
are always nearby. As the story 
progresses, she asks readers to 
stare down abuse, alienation and 
perhaps most powerfully the 
universal sensation of the phasing 
out of one age of life and the slow 
entrance of another. Rooney’s 
storytelling is unique because it 
refuses the use of any avoidable 
images and verbosity — the text 
of “Normal People” is raw, left 
only with its familiar dialogue 
and straightforward chronical of 
action.
As the story progresses, both 
Connell and Marianne become 
nearly unrecognizable forms of 
the characters readers were first 
introduced to. As their relationship 
twists and develops over time, 
so do they — Marianne in her 
oscillating levels of popularity, 
her emotional coping and her 
perceptions of others; Connell 
in his contentment and desires 
towards 
women 
and 
his 
academic career. This graduation 
of change is portrayed subtly. 
Rather than revealing long 
passages of character thought 
or detail, Rooney sticks to basics 
and simply moves through the 
story. The characters become 
deeply identifiable to readers, not 
because of one explicit similarity 
to life, but rather from the lack 
thereof — Rooney’s writing pares 
the writing to its very bones, 
making character development 
moldable to more experiences. 
“Normal People” quickly becomes 
less about momentary details, and 
more about patterns over time.
When all is finished, “Normal 
People” speaks in the gentle 
voices of its characters but is 
overwhelming with its realistic 
extremity. Rooney offers one of 
the best depictions of 21st century 
love yet — its fleetingness, its 
complexity and its publicity. It 
is a devastating and hopeless 
and 
thrilling 
depiction. 
It’s 
unsurprising that foundations are 
scooping the novel up for shortlists 
and awards. Rooney has made 
normal people something to go 
crazy for.

Rooney depicts current 
love correctly, with poise

BOOK REVIEW

JOHN DECKER
Daily Arts Writer

Normal 
People

Sally Rooney 

Hogarth

Apr. 16, 2019

OutKast is one of many 
pioneers that made the South 
the hip-hop powerhouse it is 
today, but that didn’t come 
without fighting for it.
Their name origin story is 
nothing too special. André 
3000 and Big Boi wanted to 
call 
themselves 
“2 
Shades 
Deep,” but learned it was 
taken. They then chose “The 
Misfits,” but that was taken 
too. As the story goes, they 
found “outcast” as a synonym 
for “misfit” in a dictionary and 
kept the “k” from the phonetic 
spelling. The duo settled for 
their third choice.
Flash back to the infamous 
1995 Source Awards. At this 
point in hip-hop history, the 
East-Coast-West-Coast rivalry 
was in full swing, and the 
two sides were on the verge of 
exploding. So when OutKast 
— a Southern group — was 
awarded Best New Rap Group, 
the crowd roared with boos. 
“OutKast” was a third choice 
name for the duo, and OutKast 
was a third choice candidate 
for Best New Rap Group to the 
audience.
In 
that 
moment, 
André 
3000 and Big Boi literally were 
outcasts. The two rappers from 

Atlanta were left out of the 
debate when all the audience 
wanted to see was a winner 
from N.Y. or Calif. to fuel the 
beef. Then André took the mic, 
and said what might be hip 
hop’s most famous words: “The 
South got somethin’ to say.”
In the words of fellow 
Atlanta 
superstar 
Ludacris: 
“Pressure 
can 
either 
bust 
pipes or create a diamond, and 
what André said when he got 
on that microphone created a 
diamond.”
OutKast’s classic sophomore 
album released in 1996 would 
be fittingly titled ATLiens. At 
the time, they were outcasts, 
rap-game aliens from Atlanta. 
When the album went double 
platinum, OutKast became a 
household name. By the time 
Speakerboxxx/The Love Below 
went diamond, Andre 3000 
and BigBoi were outcasts no 
longer. The South had spoken.

— Dylan Yono, Daily Arts 
Writer

The word “woozy” sounds 
like a reference to insobriety, 
but for Sven Gamsky, the 
genius behind Still Woozy, it 
has a different connotation. 
His trance-inducing, groovy 
sound isn’t an ode to moments 
of indulgence, but rather his 
tendency to feel one step 
behind and out of the flow of 
life. 
Sven Gamsky extends the 

definition of woozy and makes 
it completely his own, taking 
the groovy connotations of 
the word and layering it with 
feeling odd and out of place. 
Gamsky’s music videos, live 
performances, interviews and 
social media presence makes 
it blaringly obvious that he is 
simply weird and fun, dancing 
awkwardly 
and 
dropping 
unconventional music videos 
that embody the confused core 
behind the name Still Woozy.
This “out of the mainstream 
flow of life” definition of 
woozy matches his approach 
to music in every way: In 
an 
interview 
with 
WECB, 
Gamsky explains how he is 
not the kind of person that 
thrives in business oriented 
environments. He makes music 
in 
his 
garage-slash-studio, 
independent 
from 
a 
label, 
working with a close team who 
helps with the heavy lifting. 
He is extremely self-aware, 
and his pseudonym becomes 
even sweeter considering his 
entire approach is focused on a 
mesmerizing sound that elicits 
oddball movement. 
Gamsky’s 
fake 
name 
characterizes the days when 
life takes on its own rhythm, 
and you’re just on the outside 
looking in — pair that “one step 
behind” persona with a funky, 
synth-based beat, and you have 
yourself Still Woozy. 

— Samantha Cantie, Daily 
Arts Writer

Exploring pseudonyms: 
OutKast and Still Woozy

DYLAN YONO
Daily Arts Writer

LAFACE RECORDS

MUSIC: PSEUDONYM WEEK

SAMANTHA CANTIE
Daily Arts Writer

YOUTUBE

SMTD 
senior 
Colter 
Schoenfish 
presented 
Alexi 
Kaye Campbell’s debut play “The 
Pride” in the Newman Studio for 
his senior thesis this past Friday. 
Alternating between 1958 and 
2008, “The Pride” focuses on 
the changing attitudes toward 
sexuality over the course of five 
decades and the courage it takes 
to become who you truly are. 
The play follows the lives of the 
same three characters, 50 years 
apart, and their relationships 
with one another and their own 
sexuality. The characters battle 
with hiding behind a figurative 
veil so as to not expose their true 
selves.
The scenic design by SMTD 
sophomore 
Grace 
Linzner 
represented this “veil of lies,” 
quite literally. The play was done 
in thrust with the audience on 
three sides of the playing area, 
a smart choice for Schoenfish. 
This allowed the actors to be in 
closer proximity to the audience, 
heightening 
the 
character’s 
vulnerability (or lack thereof). 
Sheer see-through curtains were 
hung up along every side of the 
playing area, closing it off to the 
audience. Through the course 
of the show an actor would 
rip down one of the curtains. 
As the veil was literally shed, 
it was taken off symbolically 
as well. As each actor ripped 
down a curtain, a truth about a 
character was revealed. By the 
end of the show, all the curtains 
were gone. The characters could 
no longer hide behind the veil 
from the judgement of others, 
either literally or figuratively. 

Only 
their 
most 
vulnerable 
wants and desires were left 
onstage for all to witness. This 
was an original and clever idea 
that was executed beautifully.
Unlike this scenic design, 
Campbell’s 
writing 
lacked 
originality. 
Although 
the 
theme to live your truth is an 
important one, it is also one that 
has been overdone in literature, 
especially in regards to LGBTQ 
relationships. However, while I 
would have liked to see LGBTQ 
relationships explored in a more 
unique way, the play is quite 
genuine.
Yet, Campbell seemed so 
impassioned by his ideas that his 
writing was sometimes preachy. 
There was little faith given to 
the audience, and it seemed that 
the author was worried viewers 
would not recognize the central 
theme of the play. He felt the 
need to utilize monologues to 
repeat similar ideas over and 
over again. While the text was 
full of intricate language and 
imagery, it often felt repetitive 
and unnecessary. 
Although the British dialects 
faltered, the overall delivery of 
the text by the cast of four was 
astonishing. The performances 
by 
SMTD 
freshman 
Chris 
Jensen (The Man) and SMTD 
senior 
Alexandra 
Reynolds 
(Sylvia) 
were 
particularly 
impressive.
Jensen 
played 
numerous 
characters 
throughout 
the 
production. 
Most 
of 
them 
provided comedic relief during 
times of great tension. Jensen 
was grounded in his delivery and 
provided a refreshing change of 
pace to the overall tone of the 
play. He was also the strongest 

among the ensemble of actors in 
dialects.
Reynolds’ attention to detail 
and commitment to her work 
made 
repetitive 
dialogue 
exciting and intelligent. An 
inexperienced actor would have 
drowned in the river of emotions 
that Sylvia faces throughout the 
play. Yet, Reynolds took this 
demanding character on with 
great confidence and poise. Her 
natural knack for correct pacing 
and delivery was dynamite.
Another noteworthy member 
of 
“The 
Pride” 
team 
was 
director, 
Colter 
Schoenfish. 
Schoenfish had great choices in 
terms of stillness and movement. 
Never splitting focus, important 
information was always relayed 
clearly to the audience. The 
movements 
of 
the 
actors 
seemed organic while still being 
dynamic. The orchestration of 
the transitions were smooth and 
time effective. Schoenfish had a 
fantastic understanding of the 
play itself and a unique vision for 
the production.
SMTD and Stamps junior 
David Forsee’s use of projection 
was as aesthetically pleasing as it 
was effective in providing a new 
color to a play that could have 
easily been simply designed.
Being a queer woman, it is 
always exciting to see queer 
people represented in artistic 
spaces. I felt that the stories of 
the characters on stage were 
told with grace, empathy and 
compassion. The struggle to 
be true to yourself is universal, 
but it is especially pertinent in 
LGBTQ communities.

‘The Pride’ showcases the 
beauty in genuine selfhood

COMMUNITY CULTURE REVIEW

ALIX CURNOW
Daily Arts Writer

Read more at 
MichiganDaily.com

