The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett
Title: The Vanishing Half
Author: Brit Bennett
Published: 2020
Type: Fiction
Pages: 343
The Vignes twins left without saying goodbye, so like any sudden disappearance, their departure became loaded with meaning. Before they surfaced in New Orleans, before they were just bored girls hunting fun, it only made sense to lose them in such a tragic way. The twins had always seemed both blessed and cursed; they’d inherited, from their mother, the legacy of an entire town, and from their father, a lineage hollowed by loss… Leon Vignes, lynched twice, the first time at home while his twin girls watched through a crack in the closet door, hands clamped over each other’s mouths until their psalms misted with spit.
In Brief:
A really enjoyable read – quick but powerful, well-paced, with memorable characters. It’s somewhat heavy-handed, but Bennett takes the story in directions I wouldn’t have expected, thoughtfully examining colorism as well as personal identity, authenticity, and reinvention.
Rating: 4.3
Synopsis:
In the 1950s, twin sisters Desiree and Stella Vignes run away from home. They flee Mallard, a small town in Louisiana – a town where Black folks have light skin, yet are never accepted into white society. A town where they witnessed their father’s lynching at the hand of white people, where their mother struggles under poverty. Outspoken Desiree suggests the plan and shy Stella latches on, eager to escape sexual abuse constantly forced on her from their employer.
They scrape by for some time in New Orleans; eventually, Stella gets a job as a secretary. In the interview and application, she doesn’t mention that she’s Black – with the Vignes’s “creamy skin, hazel eyes, and wavy hair,” she’s able to pass as white. Without warning, Stella suddenly disappears from Desiree’s life, leaving just a note: “Sorry honey, but I’ve got to go my own way.”
Desiree searches for her sister but eventually has to let go hope of finding her. She moves to DC, marrying a dark-skinned Black man and having an equally dark daughter named Jude. The man ends up being abusive, so Desiree brings her daughter back to their small town in Louisiana. She moves back in with her mother, works as a waitress, and falls in love with an old childhood crush.
Meanwhile, Stella marries her rich white employer, still passing as white. They move to Los Angeles, and have a blonde-haired, blue-eyed daughter named Kennedy. She lives what seems like an easy, charmed life, but remains terrified that someone will discover who she really is.
And that’s only the beginning. The Vanishing Half traces the consequences of Stella’s decision, following the lives of the Vignes twins as well as their daughters – the family splitting apart, intertwining, slowly finding their inevitable way back to each other.
Where I’m At:
There are two experiences I brought to this story that most impacted my reading. The first was the months spent living in the Caribbean as a Peace Corps Volunteer. There, I was startled when I encountered the Black students I taught constantly taunting each other for being “dark.” I knew colorism was a thing, at least definitionally, but I’d never seen it so bluntly before. I was at a total loss for how to handle it, entirely unequipped. When I tried to protest, the students would look at me with amusement and break it down slowly like I was stupid. “Miss – he ugly because he dark. She light-skinned, and pretty.”
Once I caught on, it was really stark. The lighter-skinned students were popular, teacher’s pets. The students with darker skin were yelled at, punished more often. Even in the morning prayers, teachers would say things like “Jesus loves you, he doesn’t care if you’re light-skinned, or brown, or black-black.” They’d even often point out members of the student audience to differentiate the different shades, as if they weren’t being clear enough already. Of course, the effects of colorism are rarely that obvious, but I genuinely don’t think I even knew what to look before. I was like one of those white people who say, “I don’t see race” – just replace race with “shade,” or “pigment.” It’s still ignorant and shallow.
The other factor is my experience as a sister, or part of a half. My sister isn’t a twin (despite our mom dressing us that way), but we’ve always been close, and the Vignes twins’ description of their relationship hit close to home. The way she’s woven into every childhood memory, as integral as myself. We’re very similar, in our mannerisms and the way we can read each other’s minds and the way we approach the world – but, like the Vigneses, our similarities and closeness also make our differences more obvious and stark. Growing up, I was chatty and troublesome like Desiree, while she was quiet like Stella. Now, she’s on track to be a doctor and join the Navy, while I work for some (odd) San Francisco tech billionaires who want to get rid of their money.
I talk about my sister all the time. I could never imagine losing her, or all the effort that would go into acting like she didn’t exist. Cliche and obvious as it is, it would be like losing part of myself.
Getting Into it:
This book was insanely quick to read – I couldn’t put it down. It reminded me of Circe in the way that the plot moves on at an impressively fast clip, always something happening, something to look forward to. The writing itself is a bit simplistic and direct, but I didn’t really mind – it kept things light, kept me moving through the book quickly. I found this quite impressive – the range of characters, spread of time, and seriousness of the themes could have made the book heavy and entangled, but Bennett manages to keep it an enjoyable breeze.
At the same time, it would be wrong to describe this book as just a casual beach read. It could be intense, raised serious questions about race and identity, living in disguise, letting go of your past. There’s a fascinating parallel between Stella and Jude’s eventual boyfriend Reese, a transgender man who also escaped a small town and the identity others held him to. The difference is between the two is subtle, but important: Reese consciously shed his past self to become the truest version of his identity, while Stella fell into her new identity because it became expected of her.
There are also really memorable characters, and scenes in the book. The moment that stood out most to me was a community meeting in Los Angeles, where the neighbors are discussing a Black family potentially moving in. Terrified of being somehow found out, quiet Stella gets to her feet:
“You must stop them, Percy,” she said. “If you don’t there’ll be more and then what? Enough is enough!”
She was trembling, her light brown eyes flashing, and the neighbors, moved by her spontaneous passion, applauded. She never spoke up in their meetings and hadn’t even known that she would untl she’d already clambered to her feet… but her shy, faltering voice only gripped the room more. After the meeting, she couldn’t even make it out the door without neighbors wanting to shake her hand.
Stella is also one of those memorable characters. I found myself fascinated by her while reading, while also despising her. She seemed so weak, so passive, never really taking control of her own life. Passing as a white woman, she upholds the system that so hurt her and everyone she knew from her past. I wanted her to be stronger, braver. And yet – I could never imagine how afraid she must have felt all the time, stuck in a life she hardly recognized choosing. Of course, Desiree is also stuck at one point, in her case in an abusive relationship. She leaves, but I know from experience how hard that can be. How helpless you can feel. And though the situation was different, Stella was like that for decades. I guess I just wanted more of a redemption for her, and was disappointed to never see it.
That disappointment was even starker when I could compare Stella to Jude, one of the most wonderful characters I’ve read. Jude was somehow brave, compassionate, and intelligent while still being interesting. She had almost no flaws, which often makes a character boring or flat, and yet she was utterly charming, compelling and lovable. I genuinely don’t know how Bennett did it.
Overall, I do really recommend this book. I know I recommend almost every book I read so that doesn’t really mean much, but still. It’s specifically a great Book Club book – touches on a lot of discussion-worthy topics without being too intense, creates a vivid world/narrative. I’ll admit that some moments could feel a bit improbable/soap opera-ish, but I didn’t mind, that made it fun. There are also lots of surprises along the way, Bennett spinning the story in directions I wouldn’t expect, all while keeping it all remarkably focused and tight.
