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
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