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.