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4.24 AVERAGE
4.24 AVERAGE
adventurous
challenging
informative
mysterious
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
— 3.5/5 ★ //
“People thought that being one of a kind made you special. No, it just made you lonely. What was special was belonging with someone else.”
Truthfully, my emotions on this novel are a little mixed when it comes to enjoyment and personal satisfaction. At first, I was intrigued and hooked to the narrative of the twins, and how different they were in how they experienced and viewed things, how despite the two being completely different in their behaviours, they both seemed to have a shared aspiration to leave their hometown and continue their lives in ways that felt right to them.
We see from the beginning of their shared existence the effect that witnessing their father’s racially motivated murder caused them; we see how stifled they feel in a town where whiteness is desired and celebrated; we see them stripped of their youth and education as they’re forced to work alongside their single mother to earn enough money to keep a roof over their heads and enough food on the table; we see them leave together and flee to New Orleans, where they decide to embrace a new life filled with thrill, independence, and the option to be whoever they want to be. It’s soon after this that their shared narrative splits apart as we witness the twins take different paths in life. Desiree deciding to embrace her Black heritage and live authentically as herself, despite the discrimination and hardship she experiences, Stella deciding to use her light skin tone to pass as a white woman, dedicating the rest of her life to the role of a lifetime.
This aspect of the novel completely fascinated me, and it truly made me consider things that I hadn’t deeply thought of before. The way that racism, colourism, and identity is shown throughout The Vanishing Half is something that I truly appreciate, as it provides another aspect of race that we don’t often see talked about in media. Furthermore, there are aspects to this novel that I hadn’t realised would be explored whatsoever, like sexual identity, sexuality, gender, and abuse.
However, despite there being significant parts of this book that I did enjoy, I do think that it might have spread itself a little thin. I feel, personally, that was mostly due to the fact that there were so many different characters and perspectives contained within this novel; this isn’t always a bad thing, and when pulled off it can truly make a one-of-a-kind story, but sometimes it can feel like the book that you’re reading has too many complexities and subplots that ultimately end up feeling like they deserve their own book. This, specifically, is most certainly what I felt towards the characters Jude and Reece. I was so invested in that plot line, but while a significant part of the book did dedicate itself to that narrative, I just found that it didn’t fully utilise the characters or subplot in any big, significant way. It at times felt like you only got parts of their story when I really wanted to experience the whole thing. This was an issue that I experienced a few times within this book, not only with Jude and Reece but also with Desiree and Early. I feel like this particular criticism of mine is that there were so many positive, amazing discussions and topics captured by the author that just didn’t get the time to be fully explored, leaving them feeling unnurtured and surface level.
Secondly, the ending felt rather lacklustre to me. I was truly waiting for some big twist or realisation or some kind of conclusion, but it just felt like there was so much left unresolved within the world of these characters. I wanted to know if there would be some kind of powerful reconciling and unity, a kind of forgiveness or growth from the characters (specifically from Stella’s part of the narrative), but it felt like, in the end, nothing massively poignant came from the fundamental aspects of the novel.
Despite the fact that I loved the premise, topics, and characters, I do unfortunately feel like the execution of the plot fell flat for me. However, the writing was wonderful, and I do appreciate and enjoy the conversations that this novel creates.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Domestic abuse, Racism
Moderate: Racial slurs, Dementia, Death of parent
emotional
informative
reflective
sad
fast-paced
⭐️⭐️⭐️ | Entertaining and thoughtful but ultimately feel a little bit short. I don’t feel like the character’s stories were fully baked and I think it could have been great if it was a longer book. Overall, I enjoyed it but wish I could read more!
emotional
reflective
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
I really enjoyed this book! The stories of both sisters interwoven with their daughters and mother made me form a deep connection connection to the character very quickly.
I find Brit Bennett’s prose to be so accessible while still painting such clear pictures in her narration.
Would definitely recommend this book if you have not yet read it (audio or text are both great).
I find Brit Bennett’s prose to be so accessible while still painting such clear pictures in her narration.
Would definitely recommend this book if you have not yet read it (audio or text are both great).
reflective
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
“She didn’t think of herself as a liar… Just someone who avoided telling the truth.”
— The Vanishing Half, Brit Bennett
Brit Bennett’s The Vanishing Half is a profound, beautifully layered novel that examines the many lives a person can live — and the truths they may abandon along the way. With elegant prose and emotional precision, Bennett constructs a narrative that is both sweeping in scope and intimate in detail, effortlessly weaving together questions of race, identity, family, and the enduring power of secrets.
At the center of the novel are Desiree and Stella Vignes, twin sisters who grow up in Mallard, Louisiana — a fictional town obsessed with colorism and the notion of lightness as a form of social capital. Though inseparable in childhood, the sisters choose radically different paths in adulthood: Desiree returns to Mallard after escaping an abusive marriage, while Stella disappears entirely, building a new life by passing as a white woman. What unfolds is not just a story about the twins themselves, but about the ripple effects of their choices — through generations, across time and geography, and in the lives of their daughters who grow up unaware of one another.
Bennett’s brilliance lies in her refusal to simplify. She does not offer tidy conclusions or moral judgments. Instead, she allows her characters to be flawed, inconsistent, and achingly real. Stella is not villainized for her choice to pass, nor is Desiree sanctified for staying close to her roots. Both women, and the lives they lead, are shaped by systems larger than themselves — racism, classism, patriarchy — and by personal fears, desires, and survival instincts. Through their contrasting lives, Bennett invites readers to consider what identity really means: Is it determined by how others see us, how we see ourselves, or something else entirely?
The novel’s structure — shifting between characters and moving across decades from the 1950s to the 1990s — reinforces its themes of transformation and duality. The past constantly haunts the present, not in a ghostly way, but in the deeply human way that family history, trauma, and memory refuse to fade. Bennett writes with a quiet, powerful lyricism, never overexplaining, trusting readers to sit with ambiguity and contradiction.
One of the most moving aspects of The Vanishing Half is how it handles generational legacy. The daughters of Stella and Desiree — Kennedy and Jude — represent not only a new generation, but new questions about race, identity, and belonging. As their lives slowly intersect, the novel asks: Can the next generation ever truly escape the choices of the one before? And what happens when buried histories resurface?
Bennett also subtly and skillfully includes themes of gender identity, queerness, and self-definition through supporting characters, especially Reese, Jude’s transgender boyfriend. These elements are not tokenized or didactic, but woven seamlessly into the fabric of the story, further reinforcing the novel’s central idea: identity is not fixed. It is complex, shifting, and deeply personal.
Ultimately, The Vanishing Half is a novel about absence — about what disappears when we try to become someone else, and what might emerge in the space left behind. It’s a meditation on the cost of reinvention and the burden of secrets, told with compassion, nuance, and an unwavering commitment to truth — even the uncomfortable kind.
A gorgeously written, emotionally resonant exploration of race, identity, and the many versions of self we carry within us. Brit Bennett has created a novel that is both timely and timeless — a story as specific as it is universal. Unforgettable.
— The Vanishing Half, Brit Bennett
Brit Bennett’s The Vanishing Half is a profound, beautifully layered novel that examines the many lives a person can live — and the truths they may abandon along the way. With elegant prose and emotional precision, Bennett constructs a narrative that is both sweeping in scope and intimate in detail, effortlessly weaving together questions of race, identity, family, and the enduring power of secrets.
At the center of the novel are Desiree and Stella Vignes, twin sisters who grow up in Mallard, Louisiana — a fictional town obsessed with colorism and the notion of lightness as a form of social capital. Though inseparable in childhood, the sisters choose radically different paths in adulthood: Desiree returns to Mallard after escaping an abusive marriage, while Stella disappears entirely, building a new life by passing as a white woman. What unfolds is not just a story about the twins themselves, but about the ripple effects of their choices — through generations, across time and geography, and in the lives of their daughters who grow up unaware of one another.
Bennett’s brilliance lies in her refusal to simplify. She does not offer tidy conclusions or moral judgments. Instead, she allows her characters to be flawed, inconsistent, and achingly real. Stella is not villainized for her choice to pass, nor is Desiree sanctified for staying close to her roots. Both women, and the lives they lead, are shaped by systems larger than themselves — racism, classism, patriarchy — and by personal fears, desires, and survival instincts. Through their contrasting lives, Bennett invites readers to consider what identity really means: Is it determined by how others see us, how we see ourselves, or something else entirely?
The novel’s structure — shifting between characters and moving across decades from the 1950s to the 1990s — reinforces its themes of transformation and duality. The past constantly haunts the present, not in a ghostly way, but in the deeply human way that family history, trauma, and memory refuse to fade. Bennett writes with a quiet, powerful lyricism, never overexplaining, trusting readers to sit with ambiguity and contradiction.
One of the most moving aspects of The Vanishing Half is how it handles generational legacy. The daughters of Stella and Desiree — Kennedy and Jude — represent not only a new generation, but new questions about race, identity, and belonging. As their lives slowly intersect, the novel asks: Can the next generation ever truly escape the choices of the one before? And what happens when buried histories resurface?
Bennett also subtly and skillfully includes themes of gender identity, queerness, and self-definition through supporting characters, especially Reese, Jude’s transgender boyfriend. These elements are not tokenized or didactic, but woven seamlessly into the fabric of the story, further reinforcing the novel’s central idea: identity is not fixed. It is complex, shifting, and deeply personal.
Ultimately, The Vanishing Half is a novel about absence — about what disappears when we try to become someone else, and what might emerge in the space left behind. It’s a meditation on the cost of reinvention and the burden of secrets, told with compassion, nuance, and an unwavering commitment to truth — even the uncomfortable kind.
A gorgeously written, emotionally resonant exploration of race, identity, and the many versions of self we carry within us. Brit Bennett has created a novel that is both timely and timeless — a story as specific as it is universal. Unforgettable.
emotional
sad
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated