Daily Observer (Jamaica)

Review: New novel explores race, identity, belonging

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The Vanishing Half, by Brit Bennett (Riverhead)

A new novel explores the construct of race in the diverging lives of light-skinned black twins, one of whom transition­s into a life as a white woman.

The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett is beautifull­y written, thought-provoking and immersive. It follows Desiree and Stella, who hail from the town of Mallard, imagined by its founder as a place for people like him.

“Lightness, like anything inherited at a great cost, was a lonely gift,” Bennett writes in an example of the profound wisdoms woven throughout the book.

The older, wilder twin Desiree has little patience for the townspeopl­e’s obsession with lightness. “Her father had been so light that, on a cold morning, she could turn his arm over to see the blue of his veins. But none of that mattered when the white men came for him, so how could she care about lightness after that?”

Even as Stella, the twin who transition­s after leaving Mallard, sheds some of the burdens of being seen as black, she gets in its place the psychologi­cal toll of passing as white, of lying to those closest to her.

“At first, passing seemed so simple, she couldn’t understand why her parents hadn’t done it,” Bennett writes. “But she was young then. She hadn’t realized how long it takes to become someone else, or how you could make possible whatever weird idea you had in your head. You’re taking your eccentric ideas and trying to convince the reader that they’re plausible.”

HOW REAL LIFE SOMETIMES REMINDS HIM OF ZONE ONE: “I have tried not to think about that book because things turn out pretty terribly. I was terrified those first couple of weeks (of the pandemic) and

I felt the same thing after the hurricane (Sunday) a few years ago, when lower Manhattan was blacked out. It was like walking through Zone One. And now it’s real and it’s more scary than I thought.”

HOW LIFE HAS CHANGED SINCE DESCRIBING HIMSELF AS INCAPABLE OF JOY IN THE 2014 NON-FICTION BOOK ON POKER THE NOBLE HUSTLE: “I was this depressed guy going through this midlife crisis and having this wonderful writing assignment (to write about the World Series of Poker) fall into my lap. It’s really lonely it can be living in a world not meant for you.” Issues of privilege, inter-generation­al trauma, the randomness and unfairness of it all, are teased apart in all their complexity, within a story that also touches on universal themes of love, identity and belonging.

The Vanishing Half, with its clever premise and strongly developed characters, is unputdowna­ble and highly recommende­d.

who I was in 2011, and in order to keep that inner voice, I had to impersonat­e who I had been two years before. When I look back through all my work .... I think who I was at the time is always determinin­g how the book turns out.

“For ‘The Nickel Boys,’ I was someone trying to figure out where the country was going. It was during the first months of the Trump administra­tion and in Elwood and Turner (the book’s two main characters), I had Elwood being the optimist and Turner being the pessimist.”

ON THE BLACK LIVES MATTER PROTESTS: “I grew up in New York and in the early ’80s and every other day it seemed there was a case of police brutality and we’d have this conversati­on about how that has to change and nothing happened. My whole life has been me seeing these documented cases that result in zero change.

“But I’ve been surprised how far-reaching and involved the protests have been. You’re seeing people in white, tony towns in the South and the Midwest and you’re seeing protesters in New York and on Fifth Avenue and in Union Square and at the Barclay Center. I’ve been delighted and surprised how people have seized the moment. It feels like we’re moving somewhere in the country. I’m usually pessimisti­c about where things are going, but the protests have made me feel a little different.”

it was already 1:30 pm and she had to pick them up from camp earlier than usual because Hayden wanted to take them to the movies. He had returned home yesterday from another three week work stint offshore.

As she ducked into her car parked outside Felisha’s driveway, Varlene thought herself clever for coming up with a ruse so quickly. The kids were in fact spending the night with Mama, and Hayden was due to return home very late but the truth was that she could take no more of Candice and her judgey eyes. She felt as though Candice could see the bird and somehow blamed Varlene for opening her mouth and swallowing it.

Not to mention, Candice would not shut up about the new book she’d been reading. A memoir by a Trinidad writer called Monique Roffey living in England who’d had a sexual odyssey after her break-up. Candice, now a recent divorcee herself, was thinking about embarking on the same type of the journey. The talk made Varlene feel altogether uncomforta­ble. It wasn’t the sex stuff that turned her off though; in fact those bits made it bearable. It was Candice’s incessant chatter about packing up and moving to London.

“London...the gateway to the rest of the world,” the words echoed in Varlene’s mind.

To travel the world had been Candice’s dream, but like Varlene, she too had settled at the early age of 21, and with marriage came obligation and compromise.

“Move to London? Why?” Varlene ruminated on the journey home. “At this age too? She must be crazy.”

Something about the image of Candice disappeari­ng through the glass doors at Piarco made the feeling grow even worse. Varlene felt she could practicall­y hear the bird squawking. Its usual annoying flutter turned into a thrashing of wings which scraped against her muscle tissues. She had to pull the car over to calm herself. Clutching her chest through a now-soaking blouse, she attempted to pull in deep breaths. Her stomach tightened so much that she felt she would implode. She became desperate. She grabbed hold of her purse on the seat next to her and franticall­y rummaged through it to find something that would ease the pain. She found a bottle of paracetamo­l. At first, she took two pills but after five minutes and still no ease, she took two more.

From what she could

You common cry of curs! Whose breath I hate

As reek o’ the rotten fens, Whose loves I prize

As the dead carcasses of unburied men.

— Shakespear­e, Coriolanus, III, 3

That prefix, ‘un’, that comes before a word really is a powerful negative, as it changes the entire meaning and complexion of the word. Just picture the difference between buried and unburied carcasses and you see what I mean. Confusing the two can be a grave mistake.

I think that it really has the most meaning and relevance when it comes to relationsh­ips though, of man and woman business which somehow seems to consume the thoughts and deeds of people nowadays.

It’s the fear factor, the prefix that changes the whole dynamic of what goes into two people having a successful relationsh­ip or not. It’s the ‘un’ word of relationsh­ips that makes brave men cower and anticipati­ng women very disappoint­ed.

Put that ‘un’ before even the best word in the world and see how hopes and dreams collapse. Now, before you get confused with my literary leaning, I’ll explain it all to you, right after these not so seductive responses to my take on ‘Seduction’.

hi Tony,

I believe Robert Greene says it best in his book, The Art of Seduction, that seduction is a game of psychology, not beauty, and it is within the grasp of any person to become a master of the game. He also states that a seducer does not turn the power on and off, but every social and personal interactio­n is seen as a potential seduction. There is never a moment to waste. The target of the seduction must experience a feeling of pleasure, of being taken past our limits of being overwhelme­d by another person, by an experience. There is, however, one fact that we all agree on, that women are better seducers that men. They can practice on me anytime.

Conrad

hey Tony,

I’m glad that you mentioned in your article that seduction is a dying or dead art, just like Latin is a dead language. Women nowadays do not know what it is to be seduced, and men certainly do not know how to seduce. Neither has the patience for it. I don’t know which died first, but women are more forthcomin­g and bold, and a man just has to show up and take his pick. No fancy words of poetry or prose, but just a wad of cash and she accepts. I see it all the time.

Simone

Okay, now on to that ubiquitous prefix ‘un’, that puts a whole new spin on words, transformi­ng them from positive to negative in a flash, especially in the romance department. Let’s take the word lovable, which is such a sweet romantic word, conjuring up images of hugs, kisses and all that goes into loving and being loved.

But put that ‘un’ before it and you have one of the worst words possible — unlovable. Has anyone ever called you unlovable, or have you been involved with someone who is? There are people who are unlovable, and heaven help anyone who has the misfortune of not only encounteri­ng one, but being involved with such a person.

There are women who are unlovable, and they go through life displaying all the misery, angst and cantankero­usness of a Tasmanian Devil. No man can please them and they find fault with everything and everyone who cross their path. Their words are full of criticism as they spew nothing but negativity wherever they go. “All men are dogs and can’t be trusted.”

Many times they are attractive and men will be drawn to them, but after a short time that un-factor takes its toll and the man has to depart. “Man, she’s like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, miserable beyond belief, impossible to love.” Maybe they need a T-shirt t h a t s a y s , ‘Unlovable.’

Have you ever seen some beautiful women who just can’t manage to maintain a meaningful relationsh­ip, but leave a trail of exes behind them? That’s because they are unlovable. Ironically, people who are unlovable usually love one person — themselves. To take it further, put that ‘un’ before marriage and you have women who are unmarriage­able, despite their great looks and accomplish­ments. Jamaicans may say, “Unmarryabl­e, nuh body nuh waan to married to dem.”

On the male side there are men who are unambitiou­s, lacking ambition, not motivated or driven by a strong determinat­ion to succeed. This can be such a destroyer of relationsh­ips. Maybe he started out differentl­y and she saw something in him, but somewhere along the way, he simply quit and decided to hit the pause button on his life. He’s young, smart, but has no ambition to do anything or get ahead in life, but depends on the woman to carry them both.

That will destroy any relationsh­ip, as the woman simply cannot bear the burden of carrying everything on her back. She has to shed the dead weight, the unburied carcass of the worthless man.

Unforgiven­ess may be the most powerful of all, as this can prove to be such a millstone around the necks of people. Somehow it seems that women tend to not forgive, more than men. At least that’s what the men tell me. I have a good friend whose ex-wife still has not forgiven him for having an affair decades ago, even though the man has moved on, remarried and is happy. She still remains angry, cantankero­us and refuses to speak to him, even after over 30 years.

A woman will bear a mantle of unforgiven­ess towards some man who wronged her eons ago, forever and ever, amen. I also know this lady who had a relationsh­ip with a much older man when she was a teenager. She got pregnant and has not forgiven the man since, even though that child is now over 40 years old.

Naturally, this not only affected her relationsh­ips with other men, which always ended in disaster, but also affected the child, who grew up with this same feeling of anger and suspicion towards men. Being unforgivin­g can destroy generation­s of relationsh­ips. It’s said that unforgiven­ess is a poison that pollutes your spirit.

Being unsuspecti­ng can be good or bad, for it’s said that what you don’t know can’t hurt you. I don’t know who said that, perhaps it’s the same person who said that ignorance is bliss. Many women are unsuspecti­ng of what men are up to, although the cynics will say, “You think that she don’t suspect? She only playing fool to ketch wise.” But when a man is unsuspecti­ng of his woman, then he’s taken for a fool. “Look at that damn fool, don’t even know that his wife is carrying on with his best friend.”

Even characters in Shakespear­e’s plays warned of this. “Page is an ass, a secure ass, he will trust his wife, he will not be jealous… God be praised for my jealousy.” That’s from The Merry Wives of Windsor. I wonder why they were merry?

Undesirabl­e is another killer of romance. Recently a lady told me that her man always wanted to make love to her and that sometimes she couldn’t manage. I told her to embrace it, love it, hug it up and be thankful that after so many years and two children he still desired her so much.

“How would you feel if he no longer desired you and you became one of the undesirabl­es?” I asked. It’s no fun not to be desired, not wanted sexually, feeling like a pariah, but sadly, there are men and women who are living that sad experience.

Still, there are instances where the prefix ‘un’ has no practical or logical meaning and is totally irrelevant. You can unscrew a light bulb, but not a virgin. You can’t unbreak a broken heart in spite of what the song says. But you can unfriend someone if you wish, striking them from your list of cyberfrien­ds.

Unfathomab­le, you would say, unmitigate­d gall, unsavoury? Some things are simply unpardonab­le as some people are unmasked for who they really are. Do not take the prefix ‘un’ lightly, for when affixed to the right words, it exposes many in our society. As Shakespear­e said, ‘That was the most unkindest cut of all.’ More time. seido1yard@gmail.com

Footnote: What great pride that young Wolmer’s boy brought to his family, school and Jamaica by winning the prestigiou­s Checkmate Coronaviru­s Rapid Open online World Chess Championsh­ip, staged by the Internatio­nal Chess Federation, beating over 565 competitor­s from 56 countries from around the world. Chess is an ancient and very difficult game to master and takes a great deal of intellect, skill and patience to be proficient.

This is really a big deal and that’s why Ian Wilson, QC, former president of the Jamaica Chess Federation, is so passionate in his belief that all Jamaicans should play chess. He took it to the inner city with great success. Again, I applaud young Jaden Shaw, first former at Wolmer’s, for making us all proud. Congrats KC for being crowned Lacrosse champions… again.

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