Arts
Wednesday, November 18, 2020 — 13 
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

“extremely online” to my friends, 
they usually agree — they too 
love memes and spend hours on 
Twitter.

gets messy. It usually turns into 
some form of me reciting my own 
version of Bane’s quote from “The 
Dark Knight Rises”: “You merely 
adopted the internet; I was born in 
it, molded by it.”

To say that this past week was 

stressful is an understatement. 
I found it difficult to focus 
on anything, whether it was 
homework or watching a lecture 
for more than 30 minutes. But 
recently 
I’ve 
rediscovered 

something very special: the 
Charlie Brown holiday 
specials. I know these 
are important parts of 
the holidays, but for 
whatever reason I had 
completely 
forgotten 

about them — until now.

It is wonderful that 

there are three specials 
for 
three 
notable 

holidays of the fall and 
winter 
(Halloween, 

Thanksgiving 
and 

Christmas), 
especially 

because 
they’re 

perfectly 
spaced 
out. 

In October I watched 
“It’s the Great Pumpkin, 
Charlie 
Brown,” 
and 

this weekend I watched 
“A 
Charlie 
Brown 

Thanksgiving.” 
I 

thoroughly enjoyed both 
and was smiling the 
whole time through. 

I’m 
used 
to 
watching 

Disney-Pixar 
movies 
where 

the animation is crazy detailed 
and creepily realistic. Charlie 
Brown is the opposite of this, 
but to me, it’s still incredibly 
immersive. 
Movies 
like 

“Monsters Inc.” and “Toy Story” 
are gorgeous and comforting 
in their own right, but Charlie 
Brown 
feels 
particularly 

nostalgic. 
Its 
simplistic 

animation is whimsical and 

endearing, and I think part of 
Charlie 
Brown’s 
everlasting 

charm. There’s a reason Charlie 
Brown has remained a favorite 
for so many after all this time. 
It’s rather obvious what makes 
these specials so delightful, but 
since I hadn’t watched either of 
them in so long, I was surprised 
at how much I still liked them. 
The animation and color palette 
are beautiful and feel like 

they’re right out of the comics. 
That silly spirit is captured so 
well through the icons that 
are Charlie Brown, Lucy, Sally, 
Snoopy and more. They exist 
in a world where their parents’ 
voices are replaced by a muted 
trombone. These specials are 
solely from the perspective of 
children. This adds to their 
dreamlike 
quality, 
making 

them truly feel like an escape. 

One thing that absolutely 

defines these specials is Vince 

Guaraldi’s 
music. 
Guaraldi 

initially composed for Charles 
M. Schulz for a documentary 
about 
the 
Peanuts 
comics 

called “A Boy Named Charlie 
Brown,” and since then he has 
become integral to the Charlie 
Brown legacy. After watching 
the specials, I found myself 
putting the soundtracks on 
while I studied because they’re 
so peaceful. 

I also appreciate how 

short 
these 
specials 

are. At 30 minutes each, 
watching one of them is 
not a big commitment. 
Finding time to watch 
anything 
is 
difficult, 

and especially at times 
when focus is hard to 
come by. During election 
week 
in 
particular, 

anytime I tried to sit 
down and relax I was 
instantly 
distracted 

by my phone to check 
the polls. “A Charlie 
Brown 
Thanksgiving” 

is only 30 minutes, and 
it goes by so quickly! 
As soon as December 
comes, 
I’m 
going 
to 

watch “A Charlie Brown 
Christmas,” and I highly 
suggest that you do too. 

We’re all unsure what these 

coming months will look like. 
This semester has been so 
different from what it should 
have been, and I know I’ve been 
trying to find ways to make 
things feel normal. Full of 
nostalgia and joy, these Charlie 
Brown specials are a sure-fire 
way to lift anyone’s spirits, and 
who doesn’t want that?

Daily Arts Contributor Judith 

Lawrence can be reached at 
judelaw@umich.edu.

The K-pop queens of vocals 
stage a forgettable return 

The goddesses of vocals, 

Mamamoo, return for their 
crown with their new mini-
album, Travel. Their recent 
track of success with “HIP” 
and Hwasa’s “Maria” 
created 
incredibly 

high 
expectations 

for this album. Aptly 
titled, 
the 
project 

takes inspiration from 
a plethora of music 
from 
around 
the 

world, ranging from 
the ’70s aesthetic in 
the U.S. to traditional 
Middle Eastern music. 
They 
were 
quite 

adventurous 
with 

their 
internationally 

inspired 
stylistic 

choices; some of them 
were used to a great 
synergistic 
effect, 

although other times 
the 
results 
sounded 

tacky. 
While 
their 

vocals are perfect, as 
always, there is an 
overall sense of complacency 
and 
mediocrity 
across 
the 

album — two things that do 
not represent Mamamoo well 
at all.

The mini-album begins with 

“Travel,” a laid-back, chill 

summer-bop with the cliché 
high-pass filter. It’s nothing 
revolutionary. 
Moonbyul’s 

melodic rap perfectly weaves 
in and out of the otherwise 
very ordinary and basic song. 
The 
song 
has 
the 
classic 

Mamamoo slowed-down beat 
rap verse in the middle of the 

song, then ramps back up to the 
chorus. Even the bridge is very 
formulaic, the instrumentation 
is 
more 
sparse 
and 
the 

vocalists trade lines. Overall, 
“Travel” is as forgettable as it 
is unoriginal.

The next song makes up for it, 

though. “Dingga” is everything 
“Dynamite” by BTS wished 
it was. The bouncy bassline 
is infectious and invites the 
listener to groove with the 
song. Strings join in for the 
chorus which has a really full 
and rich sound, and it’s really 

groovy. It combines bass 
drum hits on every beat 
with syncopated disco 
elements that create a 
compelling 
rhythmic 

drive. 
Hwasa’s 
and 

Wheein’s voices lend well 
to this song, as Hwasa 
brings her sexy sultry 
style, and Wheein really 
comes into her own as 
a distinct voice in the 
group.

The title track, “Aya,” 

seems to rely more on the 
word “Aya” than an actual 
melody 
to 
be 
catchy. 

The flute motif of “Aya” 
pervades 
throughout 

the song and carries it 
melodically (I definitely 
can 
see 
it 
becoming 

the 
subject 
of 
many 

TikToks 
and 
memes). 

The build-up of the pre-chorus 
to the chorus generates great 
expectations, but the anti-drop 
of the chorus is anticlimactic 
and disappointing. The third 
and fourth verses are the 
silver lining of the song. The 

introduction of the low brass in 
the beat gives it a sort of Latin 
pop flavor — it’s definitely a 
killer combination. The faster 
tempo 
dance 
break 
seems 

tacked on, like a last-ditch 
effort to generate some sort 
of variety within the song, 
and the ending is sudden and 
dissatisfying. 

“Chuck,” 
“Diamond” 
and 

“Goodnight” carry the album. 
“Chuck” is a unique sound for 
K-pop: It starts with a breathy, 
raspy, quieter singing style 
complemented by a stripped 
back synth beat. The chorus 
features heavier instrumentals, 
but 
it’s 
incredibly 
catchy. 

It is such a dramatic and 
effective 
sound 
when 
the 

group harmonizes and slides 
up to a chord, and it really 

showcases 
how 
wonderful 

they are as vocalists. “Chuck” 
also highlights a sexier side 
of Solar’s voice that we really 
only got a glimpse of in her 
single “Spit it Out.” 

“Diamond” is badass. The 

beat is slow but confident. 
The lyrics are slurred and 
seem to form one long string 
of beautiful melody. There are 
some really funky harmonies 
in there too — the pre-chorus 
to the chorus shifting from the 
G major to A major 7 gives a 
dreamy, ethereal quality to the 
music.

The queens of the emotional 

ballad strike again with “Good 
Night,” and do not disappoint. 
In 
an 
oversaturated 
field, 

filled with incredibly talented 
K-R&B 
artists, 
Mamamoo 

still manages to stick out. 
Mamamoo fills the song with 
their 
angelic 
voices, 
and 

heaven may actually sound like 
this.

Travel fails where it needs 

to succeed; its most important 
songs, the first and the title 
track, 
are 
lackluster 
and 

leave a lot to be desired. The 
other songs on the album 
are fantastic but don’t quite 
make up for it. Mamamoo has 
consistently been putting out 
music throughout quarantine, 
and frankly some of the songs 
on this album sound like they 
are burnt out. Maybe they 
should take a well-deserved 
break. 

Daily 
Arts 
Writer 
Jason 

Zhang 
can 
be 
reached 
at 

zhangjt@umich.edu.

JASON ZHANG

For The Daily

WIKIMEDIA COMMONS

‘The Shadow King’ on our 
memory of war, violence

The 
author 
of 
one 
of 

the 
Guardian’s 
“10 
Best 

Contemporary African books” 
has 
made 
a 
triumphant 

contribution to the literary world 
with her pre-WWII epic “The 
Shadow King.”

Shortlisted for the Booker 

Prize for Fiction, Maaza Mengiste 
remakes and rebirths Homeric 
mythology in 1930s Ethiopia, 
embarking on an evaluation 
of war, trauma and memory. 
Covering a lightly fictionalized 
Second 
Italo-Ethiopian 
War, 

Mengiste documents Mussolini’s 
invasion of Ethiopia and the 
people’s resistance.

Usually war novels attempt 

to hold your heart and emotions 
hostage, harming you with an 
onslaught of devastating events. 
However, 
Mengiste’s 

novel 
is 
a 
beautiful 

and 
relatively 
non-

traumatic read. Pulling 
from both history and 
Greek tragedy, Mengiste 
transforms her forgotten 
conflict into a new Iliad, 
complete with capricious 
higher 
powers, 

irresponsible 
kings 

and 
fighting 
women. 

By 
including 
mythic 

elements 
(repeated 

Greek chorus chapters, 
allusions, etc.), Mengiste 
helps muffle the dark 
topics native to wartime: 
war, 
rape, 
assault, 

extreme violence.

On one side, fascist 

Italy is ramping up their late 
imperialism. 
With 
better 

weaponry and technology, the 
Italians hope for an easy victory. 
However, Ethiopia is not an 
easy prize to be won, plundered 
and stolen. Out of necessity 
and national pride, Ethiopian 
generals and households rally 
for war, echoing the Greek 
Basileus (kings) who kept their 
oath to retrieve Helen of Troy in 
Homer’s “The Iliad.”

The epic begins with the 

main character Hirut fingering 
through a box of photos taken 
by an Italian war photographer. 
Through the pictures, Hirut 
and Mengiste recall trauma and 
violence. And it is through Hirut 
that Mengiste interrogates how 
one can physically survive battle 
and emotionally cope with its 
trauma. Hirut begins untouched 
and 
unmarred 
before 
the 

beginning of the war. She lives 
a small existence on the edge of 
an Ethiopian estate. Having lost 

her parents, she has seen little 
of the world beyond the estate 
she works on. Over the course 
of the novel, her naivete hardens 
and she evolves into a soldier. 
However, Hirut is an abnormal 
protagonist. Mengiste is not 
pracious with Hirut. Often, her 
narrative leaves Hirut behind to 
explore other, more interesting 
characters. In one scene, Hirut 
is pointedly ignored by two 
embracing 
characters. 
While 

another author might delve into 
Hirut’s 
feelings 
of 
rejection 

and confusion, Mengiste does 
not indulge Hirut. Hirut is not 
clever or particularly pretty. She 
is not the center of the story. By 
excluding Hirut’s feelings from 
the narrative, Mengiste signals 
that Hirut herself is tertiary 
to the larger tapestry of war, 
plunder 
and 
Ethiopia 
being 

woven. 

Menguste’s 
disregard 
for 

Hirut is brilliant. It’s one of the 
most daring literary choices 
made by an author in a long time.

Goodreads reviews reacted to 

Mengiste’s tactical disregard by 
taking umbrage, misinterpreting 
Mengiste’s distance from Hirut 
as negligence. Usually, main 
characters are celebrated or 
special in some way. Mengiste 
does not coddle Hirut or indulge 
her thoughts and hopes. Instead, 
Mengiste deposits the same 
opaque, archetypal figures from 
myth into her story. Just as you 
do not know Achilles or the 
Euripides’ constant thoughts, 
you are similarly shut out from 
Hirut’s perspective. Like Homer 
and Aeschylus, Mengiste makes 
you privy to Hirut’s primal rage 
and confusion but keeps her 
psychology a secret. She does 
this to cleave Hirut and the 
Ethipidans closer to legend. She 
forces the audience to observe 
and question the impact of 
violence and wartime.

If enduring is only one way 

through violence, how can we 
ensure that the violence doesn’t 
pillage our bodies and person? 
Is there a way to escape war 
physically and mentally intact? 
Are there metaphysical human 
conditions that get torn out of 
ourselves during wartime?

As 
a 
contrast 
to 
Hirut, 

Mengiste also follows Ettore, a 
Jewish Italian war photographer 
whose psyche and psychology 
is very clearly laid out. He is 
an invader on the other side 
of the war, commissioned to 
photograph 
the 
triumphant 

Italians. But within the war and 
the Italian front, he is unsafe. 
Anti-Jewish 
sentiment 
seeps 

from Italy into Ethiopia and 
Ettore is anxious and morally 
conflicted about the atrocities 
commited against the Ethopians. 
However, paralyzed by fear that 
Italy’s violence will be turned 

against him, Ettore tries 
to keep his head down 
as he documents the 
war. At his best, Ettore 
is uncomfortable. At his 
worst he is complicit. 

Whereas Hirut and 

her 
cohort 
become 

immortalized, 
Ettore 

remains 
desperately 

small 
and 
human, 

a 
witness 
to 
others’ 

greatness. If Hirut and 
the Ethiopians represent 
the 
subjects 
of 
the 

mythology, Ettore is the 
scribe. 
Continuously 

taking 
photos 
and 

documenting the war, 
Ettore keeps the themes 
of legacy and legend 

alive.

His photography facilitates 

the Second Italo-Ethiopian War’s 
transformation into a legend, 
using his camera and viewfinder 
to create main characters and 
sell a narrative to Europe and 
Ethiopia, producing propaganda 
and stories to sate curiosities.

Mengiste, through a variety 

of angles, transmutes her novel 
and national history into a myth. 
Whereas most myth retellings 
try to turn the myths into a 
novel, Mengiste does the reverse. 
She immortalizes the fighting 
females of Ethiopia in the form of 
lyrical prose. She constantly and 
cleverly embeds allusions and 
includes a Greek chorus in her 
novel, planting a consciousness 
of legacy and legend. Startling, 
mythic and vivid, Mengiste’s 
novel wakes up your senses 
without harming you. 

Daily Arts Writer Elizabeth 

Yoon can be reached at elizyoon@
umich.edu.

ELIZABETH YOON

Daily Arts Writer

PIXY

Finding warmth in Charlie 
Brown holiday specials

JUDITH LAWRENCE

For The Daily

While their vocals 

are perfect, as always, 

there is an overall 

sense of complacency 
and mediocrity across 

the album — two 
things that do not 

represent Mamamoo 

well at all.

Is there a way to 

escape war physically 

and mentally 

intact? Are there 

metaphysical human 
conditions that get 
torn out of ourselves 

during wartime?
 

Full of nostalgia and 

joy, these Charlie 

Brown specials are a 
sure-fire way to lift 
anyone’s spirits, and 
who doesn’t want 

that?

