100%

Scanned image of the page. Keyboard directions: use + to zoom in, - to zoom out, arrow keys to pan inside the viewer.

Page Options

Download this Issue

Share

Something wrong?

Something wrong with this page? Report problem.

Rights / Permissions

This collection, digitized in collaboration with the Michigan Daily and the Board for Student Publications, contains materials that are protected by copyright law. Access to these materials is provided for non-profit educational and research purposes. If you use an item from this collection, it is your responsibility to consider the work's copyright status and obtain any required permission.

March 16, 2020 - Image 6

Resource type:
Text
Publication:
The Michigan Daily

Disclaimer: Computer generated plain text may have errors. Read more about this.

Monday, March 16, 2020 — 6
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

Identical twins are one of nature’s most

fascinating wonders. Two offspring, born of the

same pregnancy, who look exactly alike; one

can’t help but compare one sibling to the other.

To scientists, twins offer a unique research

opportunity that is too good to pass up, and they

have therefore been an integral component to

researching the effects of nature versus nurture.

In one famous yet ethically questionable study,

three twins who were separated at birth were

studied to explore how deeply their similarities

ran when each sibling was raised in a completely

different environment.

Brit
Bennett’s
upcoming
novel
“The

Vanishing Half” offers a new take on the study

of twins, using twin characters to explore

the controversial topic of racial passing. The

novel follows Stella and Desiree, the identical

Vignes
twins,
a

once
inseparable

pair who ultimately

chooses to live in

two
completely

different
worlds.

As
16-year-olds,

the
twins
are

able to escape the

restrictive confines

of
their
tiny

“colorstruck” Black

community
called

Mallard and make their own way in the world.

However, while Desiree ultimately returns to

her birthplace, Stella chooses to “pass over” and

live her life as a white woman. Stella cuts off all

ties to her previous life, and takes measures to

ensure that no one in her new life has any idea

of her past life as a Black woman. Years later,

chance brings together the daughters of the

estranged twin sisters. The result is a breath-

taking generational family story that tackles the

charged topic of racial passing in America.

Reading “The Vanishing Half” is like a breath

of fresh air. Bennett’s writing style immediately

catches the eye: straightforward and to the

point, yet incredibly insightful and saturated

with emotion. The characters are real, raw

and relatable, and it is so easy to become lost

in the twins’ respective worlds. Bennett takes

great care to shape the Vignes sisters into

three dimensional characters, and as the novel

unfolds, the characters come to life. While

Stella is timid and proper, Desiree is restless and

impulsive. Desiree is flighty like a bird, Stella

pragmatic and realistic with a mathematician’s

mind. They are perfect foils to each other, like

two sides of a coin. Their differences complete

each other. As Bennett beautifully puts it, the

Vignes twins were like “two bodies poured

into one, each pulling it her own way.” Their

estrangement is devastating for both sisters, and

each is left feeling like they are missing a part

of themselves. It’s as if there is a magical bond

connecting them to each other, and no matter

where they go, they still feel the presence of their

far away other half. Bennett carefully explores

the effects that Stella’s choice to pass over has on

their sisterly bond and beautifully captures the

essence of what it means to be a twin.

The chance meeting of the Vignes twins’

daughters strayed dangerously close to being too

far-fetched, but their unembellished and rocky

acquaintance ended up being a remarkably

interesting addition to the novel. Jude (Desiree’s

daughter) and Kennedy (Stella’s daughter) could

not have turned out more different; Jude, whose

skin is “black as tar,” grows up dealing with

racism, Kennedy, blonde and fair, is raised with

the privilege of whiteness, Jude is thoughtful

and studious, Kennedy is dramatic and lazy. It is

hard to believe these two girls, each the absolute

antithesis of the other, originate from identical

twins. This divide

just uncovers how

different the lives

that the Vignes

twins choose for

themselves
are.

These differences

translate
into

the
lives
of

their daughters,

shaping
the

unfolding
paths

of
the
next

generation. Stella and Desiree’s daughters have

to face the confusion of their split identities, one

half of the family being white, the other Black.

Kennedy asks her boyfriend, “Would you love

me ... if I weren’t white?” Jude faces hatred and

racial prejudice for being a different skin tone

than her mother. Stella’s choice to pass over has

consequences far beyond the scope of her own

life. Bennett explores the subtle effects of Stella’s

choice in a carefully measured and deliberate

manner.

Found on countless booklists for most

anticipated new releases in 2020,“The Vanishing

Half” lives up to the hype. It is clear from the very

first chapter that author Brit Bennett created

a masterpiece. Bennett weaves together the

stories of the Vignes twins and their daughters

with extraordinary attention to detail, creating

an emotionally satisfying novel that leaves the

reader with a subtly new perspective. “The

Vanishing Half” is a page turner to the very

end, and transcends genres with elements

of romance, mystery, history, crime and

heartbreak. Brit Bennett is a young, up-and-

coming American author, and “The Vanishing

Half” promises to be her breakthrough novel to

launch her into the realm of literary recognition.

This will be one of the best books of the year, no

doubt about it.

Turbulence between twins
in Bennett’s ‘Vanishing Act’

EMMA DOETTLING

Daily Arts Writer

I have a complicated relationship with the

world of animation. I was raised in the caring

arms of Cartoon Network and Nickelodeon. As a

kid I would come home from school, crash on the

couch and watch episodes of “Avatar: The Last

Airbender,” “Regular Show,” “Adventure Time”

… the list goes on and on. When I got older, I

started wading my way into the more mature side

of animation. I found myself strangely attracted

to staples of American “adult animation,” i.e.

“Family Guy,” “The Simpsons,” etc.

But even as I matured further, it seemed like

these shows had not. With “The Simpsons”

now airing its 31st season, my point becomes

increasingly clear. While real people learn a

lesson once, Homer

(Dan Castellenata,

“Family Guy”) has

to relearn a new

job, and how to be a

good father episode

after episode. Too

much of a good

thing isn’t just a

bad thing — it’s a

boring thing. It’s

an
unimaginative

thing.
American

media
moguls

have a mantra: If

it ain’t broke, don’t

fix it. If something

is making money,

why end it? Even if it’s exhausted everything it’s

needed to say and more. What worked in the ’90s

ought to work in the ’20s, right?

Needless to say, I became disillusioned and

disappointed with the art of adult cartoons. I

became sick of shows that were decent at first,

but overstayed their welcome. It’s hard to enjoy

a show when you know the events of the episode

have little to no impact on the overarching plot of

the show. It becomes terrifying to imagine that

these characters, trapped in their tiny worlds, will

live forever in cycles of eternal recurrence. Their

desires, actions and choices will be exploited

for a solid 19 to 25 minutes, then flushed down

the memory hole. Watching an old episode or

two of these shows could be fun, but large doses

of the newer episodes could be lethal. I lost my

faith in adult animation, that is, until I met a one

unhinged horse and his anthropomorphic pals.

At first, “BoJack Horseman” didn’t feel all too

different from other adult cartoon staples. The

animation style is broadly similar. The world

and the people who inhabit it are sometimes

whimsical and vacuous. But where “BoJack

Horseman” deviates from the norm is its

obsession with consequence. The brilliance of

“BoJack” is its depiction of characters dealing

with the fallout of their actions or desires,

particularly when these consequences are not

just contained to one episode, but follow the

characters for the remainder of the season. This

makes for substantially more entertaining and

more meaningful television.

I am shocked at how well “BoJack Horseman”

was able to illustrate consequence while

remaining true to its episodic format. For

example, in the season one episode, “Our A-Story

is A ‘D’ Story,” BoJack (Will Arnett, “Arrested

Development”) steals the “D” from the famous

Hollywood sign for his crush, Diane (Alison Brie,

“GLOW”). For the rest of the series, Hollywood is

referred to as “Hollywoo” to reflect this change.

That’s a smaller and more charming detail, but it

sets the tone of realistic repercussions for the rest

of the show. Other more serious consequences

still plague BoJack as well as other characters.

However, when

something
is

not
resolved,

these choices are

purposeful
in

supporting
the

central
themes

of

“BoJack

Horseman.”

In
addition

to consequence,

another
way

“BoJack

Horseman” sets

itself apart from

its genre is its

sense of maturity.

Around
season

four, I was worried the show would turn into the

next “Spongebob Squarepants”: A never-ending

series of antics with no progress or remaining

novelty. To my surprise (and relief), the show

recently ended with season six. Not only was the

show’s final season emotional and realistic, it felt

deserved. It felt like the journey we embarked on

for six whole seasons was coming to a definite

end. The thread is cut, the curtains close. The

final episode ends in a simple scene where BoJack

and Diane look up at the stars, and yet I felt no

desire to see more. In fact, I wanted to go back

and rewatch old episodes. I couldn’t imagine

a moment where I felt like this watching “The

Simpsons” or “Family Guy.” “BoJack Horseman”

is a prime example of what adult cartoons should

strive to be like.

Needless to say, “BoJack Horseman” is the

exception, not the norm. Luckily for us though,

it seems like other shows within the genre are

taking more and more cues from our addled

horse friend. The latest season of Adult Swim’s

“Rick and Morty” was surprisingly consequential

compared to its previous ones. In all, the end

of “BoJack Horseman” is a new beginning for

the world of adult cartoons. It’s a world with

consequence, finality and most of all, meaning.

‘BoJack’ breathes new life
into world of adult cartoons

NETFLIX

TV NOTEBOOK
TV NOTEBOOK

BOOK REVIEW

The Vanishing Half

Brit Bennett

Riverhead Books

Jun. 2, 2020

SIGNATURE VIEWS

JOSHUA THOMAS

Daily Arts Writer

I lost my faith in

adult animation, that

is, until I met one

unhinged horse and his
anthropomorphic pals.

Back to Top

© 2024 Regents of the University of Michigan