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Vanishing Twins: A Marriage
"It's like we're the same person. We finish each other's sentences. This is what we've been taught to desire and expect of love. But there's a question underneath that's never addressed: Once you find someone to finish your sentences, do you stop finishing them for yourself?"
As long as she can remember, Leah has had the mysterious feeling that she's searching for a twin—that she belongs as one of an intimate pair. It begins with friends, dance partners, and her own reflection in the mirror as she studies ballet growing up; continues with physical and emotional attractions to girlfriends in college; and leads her, finally, to Eric, whom she moves across the country for and marries. But her steadfast, monogamous relationship leaves her with questions she can't answer about her sexuality and her identity, so she and her husband decide to try an open marriage.
How does a young couple make room for their individual desires, their evolving selfhoods, and their artistic ambitions while building a life together? Can they pursue other sexual partners, even live in separate cities, and keep their passionate original bond alive? This memoir in fragments looks for answers in psychology, science, pop culture, art, architecture, Greek mythology, dance, and language, to create a lucid, suspenseful portrait of a woman testing the limits and fluidities of love.
As long as she can remember, Leah has had the mysterious feeling that she's searching for a twin—that she belongs as one of an intimate pair. It begins with friends, dance partners, and her own reflection in the mirror as she studies ballet growing up; continues with physical and emotional attractions to girlfriends in college; and leads her, finally, to Eric, whom she moves across the country for and marries. But her steadfast, monogamous relationship leaves her with questions she can't answer about her sexuality and her identity, so she and her husband decide to try an open marriage.
How does a young couple make room for their individual desires, their evolving selfhoods, and their artistic ambitions while building a life together? Can they pursue other sexual partners, even live in separate cities, and keep their passionate original bond alive? This memoir in fragments looks for answers in psychology, science, pop culture, art, architecture, Greek mythology, dance, and language, to create a lucid, suspenseful portrait of a woman testing the limits and fluidities of love.
304 pages, Paperback
First published September 4, 2018
31 people are currently reading
2,435 people want to read
About the author
Leah Dieterich
3 books64 followersLeah Dieterich is the author of Vanishing Twins: A Marriage (Soft Skull 2018.) Her essays and short fiction have been published by Lenny Letter, Lithub, Buzzfeed, Bomb magazine, and more. She is also the author of a book of thank-you notes, thxthxthx: thank goodness for everything.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 89 reviews
September 26, 2018
Vanishing Twins is a memoir about a marriage – but it is also so much more. It is an exploration of identity and gender, of growing up and finding oneself, of culture and literature, of ballet and advertising. I adored this.
Leah Dieterich frames her story both in ballet and in the science of vanishing twins, using metaphors and literary analysis to construct a picture of her twenties and her marriage. She meets her husband Eric fairly young and gets married to him at an age where most people are still trying to find themselves. Their symbiotic relationship starts to feel limiting and she proposes an open marriage to explore her queerness.
The book is told in (very) short, fragmented essays (one of my favourite styles) that grow to a convincing whole. I love how the author does not try to fit everything into a cohesive narrative, because life just isn’t that way. As she muses on her marriage and distinct memories, she also writes about other things in-between, mostly ballet but also philosophy and art history. I obviously adored this, there are few things that make me as happy as brilliant, clever memoirs. I have said countless times, I love when women unapologetically put themselves front and center in their art and Leah Dieterich does this, impressively so. One of my favourite aspects was the fact that she realizes her tendency to mirror people she is close to – from her sense of style to her haircut. I loved how this was addressed time and time again. It showed the aspects of her lovers that she most felt drawn to and it illuminated the growing distance between her husband and her while simultaneously underlining the bond between them.
There is a lot to admire here: from her clean prose to her insightful analysis of everything between ballet and advertising to art. I found this a highly rewarding reading experience that has me excited for more to come from Leah Dieterich
I received an ARC of this book courtesy of Soft Skull Press for review consideration. My opinions are my own.
You can find this review and other thoughts on books on my blog.
Leah Dieterich frames her story both in ballet and in the science of vanishing twins, using metaphors and literary analysis to construct a picture of her twenties and her marriage. She meets her husband Eric fairly young and gets married to him at an age where most people are still trying to find themselves. Their symbiotic relationship starts to feel limiting and she proposes an open marriage to explore her queerness.
The book is told in (very) short, fragmented essays (one of my favourite styles) that grow to a convincing whole. I love how the author does not try to fit everything into a cohesive narrative, because life just isn’t that way. As she muses on her marriage and distinct memories, she also writes about other things in-between, mostly ballet but also philosophy and art history. I obviously adored this, there are few things that make me as happy as brilliant, clever memoirs. I have said countless times, I love when women unapologetically put themselves front and center in their art and Leah Dieterich does this, impressively so. One of my favourite aspects was the fact that she realizes her tendency to mirror people she is close to – from her sense of style to her haircut. I loved how this was addressed time and time again. It showed the aspects of her lovers that she most felt drawn to and it illuminated the growing distance between her husband and her while simultaneously underlining the bond between them.
There is a lot to admire here: from her clean prose to her insightful analysis of everything between ballet and advertising to art. I found this a highly rewarding reading experience that has me excited for more to come from Leah Dieterich
I received an ARC of this book courtesy of Soft Skull Press for review consideration. My opinions are my own.
You can find this review and other thoughts on books on my blog.
November 29, 2018
Actually 3.5 Stars ...
The promise of this book checked all of the boxes: great independent publisher, woman, fragments, memoir, open relationship, metaphor. However, even though I devoured it (fragments make a quick read) there was something nagging at me the whole time I read it, and it did not really dawn on me until the end.
First off, the writing is smart and there are some dazzling places, fit for highlighting with their deep insight and metaphor. But this book did not need to be fragmented. Any kind of experimental writing or structure needs to reflect the subject matter. While one could make the argument that her fragmented prose style reflected the uneasiness of embracing her queer identity, I realized that was the only true conflict/ tension in the narrative. Sure her and her hubby had some hard times with unease and jealousy in their open relationship, but really, everything was handed to her. White, thin and pretty, Dietrich does not find it hard to find willing partners, her mom accepts her queerness as do her coworkers and her complicit, probably equally as hot husband. They have money and privilege to travel the world and spend artistic time apart with their equally as sexy lovers. It was all just too... bland. While I am sure there were real emotional struggles, everything just kind of fit too neatly and was way too tidy to warrant the experimental structure. I mean, even if the paragraphs were just put into paragraphs for short chapters. Having every single paragraph as a stand alone was giving weight to some very light fluff.
The twin metaphor was carried well throughout the book, but never really peaked. I mean, I got it but... it again was just surface level intelligence. Smart connections but did not really dig deep. It’s like looking up all the different shades of blue and then linking significant life moments to Aqua (the band) or the color of the ocean like it was some kind of portrait of how the color blue is everywhere.
Dietrich was a ballet dancer and an advertising creative. Who had an open marriage. So imagine a pretty, precise ballerina giving us the ad agency version of an ideal white privileged open marriage, but peppered with some acceptable edginess of style. I totally consumed it but it all felt a little too neat and a tad shallow.
The promise of this book checked all of the boxes: great independent publisher, woman, fragments, memoir, open relationship, metaphor. However, even though I devoured it (fragments make a quick read) there was something nagging at me the whole time I read it, and it did not really dawn on me until the end.
First off, the writing is smart and there are some dazzling places, fit for highlighting with their deep insight and metaphor. But this book did not need to be fragmented. Any kind of experimental writing or structure needs to reflect the subject matter. While one could make the argument that her fragmented prose style reflected the uneasiness of embracing her queer identity, I realized that was the only true conflict/ tension in the narrative. Sure her and her hubby had some hard times with unease and jealousy in their open relationship, but really, everything was handed to her. White, thin and pretty, Dietrich does not find it hard to find willing partners, her mom accepts her queerness as do her coworkers and her complicit, probably equally as hot husband. They have money and privilege to travel the world and spend artistic time apart with their equally as sexy lovers. It was all just too... bland. While I am sure there were real emotional struggles, everything just kind of fit too neatly and was way too tidy to warrant the experimental structure. I mean, even if the paragraphs were just put into paragraphs for short chapters. Having every single paragraph as a stand alone was giving weight to some very light fluff.
The twin metaphor was carried well throughout the book, but never really peaked. I mean, I got it but... it again was just surface level intelligence. Smart connections but did not really dig deep. It’s like looking up all the different shades of blue and then linking significant life moments to Aqua (the band) or the color of the ocean like it was some kind of portrait of how the color blue is everywhere.
Dietrich was a ballet dancer and an advertising creative. Who had an open marriage. So imagine a pretty, precise ballerina giving us the ad agency version of an ideal white privileged open marriage, but peppered with some acceptable edginess of style. I totally consumed it but it all felt a little too neat and a tad shallow.
January 17, 2023
Vēl nebija gadījies lasīt grāmatu, kas it ka nav fikcijas grāmata, bet šķiet sarakstīta dzejprozā.
Leah ir sieviete, kas iepazīst sevi kā personu, savu biseksualitāti, attiecības ar vīru un citiem cilvēkiem, izmantojot sev tuvo baleta pasauli, kas tik ilgus gadus ir bijusi visa viņas dzīve, kā arī dzenot pēdas šķietami mātes dzemdē pazaudētam dvīnim.
Leah ir sieviete, kas iepazīst sevi kā personu, savu biseksualitāti, attiecības ar vīru un citiem cilvēkiem, izmantojot sev tuvo baleta pasauli, kas tik ilgus gadus ir bijusi visa viņas dzīve, kā arī dzenot pēdas šķietami mātes dzemdē pazaudētam dvīnim.
October 1, 2018
3.5 thoughts soon.
June 28, 2018
Leah Dieterich weaves a few different themes through her memoir but the strongest threads that make Vanishing Twins a remarkable reading experience are the ones about her marriage. The flow of fragmented ruminations and life stories boldly push the emotional envelope of love and trust. Sometimes when you read essays or memoirs about someone's lovelife, their heart seems small and delicate, but here, in these dazzling pages, Dieterich's heart feels large, expanding, and brave.
August 24, 2018
I started to read this book months ago, but it wasn’t the right time, so I stopped and read some other things. Looking at the dates on Goodreads, I realized I returned to it exactly three months after I started it. The timing was perfect. I found myself open and emotional, crying at certain parts and marveling at the deftness with which Leah Dieterich makes connections and choreographs metaphors. I would like to write a book like this someday.
June 8, 2020
If my whole review of this book could just be a shrug, that would about cover it. Look, this is well-written, and of course, we all have stories to tell. For me, the fragmented little chapters worked because the author is super fragmented. She has no idea who she is or who she wants to be. I read an entire book about her, and I still don't know. She came across as, if not exactly spoiled, then clueless about how her life is extremely privileged. The extended metaphor of the twin thing really didn't work for me when she dragged it on as long as she did. I think it could have been captured in one sentence. "I'm completely unaware of who I am, so I have become convinced that a part of me is missing. I'm gonna try to figure it out by making a whole bunch of people fill a void they are not responsible for." The author is a talented writer, but I'm not sure what kind of person she is.
January 7, 2022
Loved the structure and writing. Didn't love the ending.
October 3, 2018
A masterclass in subtle, layered, beautiful prose that also tells a riveting, unconventional love story
June 8, 2021
holy t!Ts
December 11, 2020
this book is so beautiful & painful. I can see the influence of Maggie Nelson particularly here & I love when writers can honor and emulate other writers without “copying” them—I think writing in response to/with others’ work is one of my favorite qualities in writing, you can trace these ghosts of other writers and books in a way that feels reverent but also completely new and its own original thing. the fragmented form is really minimally and well-rendered, and the honest explorations of desire are SO refreshing!! I hate the mythology of what romantic love is supposed to be—this perfect transcendence of self & of all other desires, without complexity, a savior—and I actually think the reality of love as much more complicated, uncomfortable, disorienting, and constantly in flux MAKES it so much more heartening and hopeful when people still choose to keep loving each other and keep working at a relationship. also, the complicated and even socially unpalatable! makes for much better writing imo. and god i feel this depiction of queerness in my bones lmao.
September 24, 2018
I did not enter this book knowing much about what it would be like or who the author is. I did not even hear any reviews on it before hand. I ended up enjoying it a lot more than I thought I would. This book discusses identity and gender as well as women's hardships. Her memoir discusses love within a marriage and the hardships that occur throughout it. I myself am not married but by reading about her marriage, I felt like I learnt a lot. This book ended up being stuck in my head for the next few days because I couldn't get some of the passages out of my head.
September 1, 2021
n sei oq falar sobre esse livro pq ele é um livro perfeito? não! tenho críticas sobre o modo como ele foi construído e alguns dos elementos que a autora colocou? sim! mas fiquei obcecada com ele? completamente! terminei em um dia E quero falar dele na análise segunda feira. foi o primeiro livro que a leah dieterich publicou e quero acompanhar ela daqui pra frente
April 3, 2018
This is a book for anyone who has, will be or is currently in a romantic relationship. It's a timely look at the dynamic of coupledom, one that I found fascinating, and relatable.
September 4, 2019
I'm a sucker for memoir. But then, I'm usually disappointed by them. In order to pull off a memoir, you've got to be highly intelligent and generous. You have to make it about the reader, not you. I would say that most who write memoirs can't do this. The only ones who can are great novelists, ironically, or perhaps logically.
I give this one 2 and a half stars b/c it wasn't terrible. I did feel the whole twin metaphor was a bit of a stretch at times. She seemed to be reaching, reaching to find ways to extend it far beyond what it was capable of covering.
This is essentially the story of a woman who is bisexual. She and her husband decide to have an open marriage and she falls in love with another woman. (Though she also still loves her husband.) Naturally, drama and confusion and pain and growth ensue.
I give this one 2 and a half stars b/c it wasn't terrible. I did feel the whole twin metaphor was a bit of a stretch at times. She seemed to be reaching, reaching to find ways to extend it far beyond what it was capable of covering.
This is essentially the story of a woman who is bisexual. She and her husband decide to have an open marriage and she falls in love with another woman. (Though she also still loves her husband.) Naturally, drama and confusion and pain and growth ensue.
October 20, 2018
Leah Dieterich lays all of her insecurities and uncertainties excrutiatingly bare in the excavation of her marriage. Using compelling prose, she peels back the surface of everything, and it is mesmerizing; she digs until she understands what she feels, what she wants, and why she wants it. Exploring open marriage, bisexuality, honesty, and fear, this is a eye-opening dissertation on love, desire, commitment, and human nature -- and Dieterich holds nothing back in the mining of her life.
August 28, 2018
A married couple are stoney mouth,
I counted two words passed at their dinner party.
Why bother?
Same-game marital-scape, after five years, exit stage left, escape,
easy-smooth divorce, have her/his infidelity on tape.
#poem
Chris Roberts, God of Simultaneous Time
I counted two words passed at their dinner party.
Why bother?
Same-game marital-scape, after five years, exit stage left, escape,
easy-smooth divorce, have her/his infidelity on tape.
#poem
Chris Roberts, God of Simultaneous Time
November 28, 2021
this book contains descriptions of lesbian sex that are borderline psychologically painful to read and actually made me question whether I’m gay….don’t tell my girlfriend. writing is otherwise very engaging
September 29, 2018
I highly recommend this memoir. I read the first 70 pages, expecting not to like it, in front of its shelf at the bookstore. I felt like the clerk kept giving me the “just buy it already” eyes, so I did. I read the rest of it curled up in bed that night.
The author feels incomplete. That she must have had a twin in the womb that vanished and now she needs to seek this twinness in others. She finds a twin in her childhood friend, in her office companion, in her husband, and the androgynous women she dates. She mirrors them, feeling like this doubling of people makes them more whole. She’s really dependent on this need for another person to be by her side, which I find annoying, but the author is honest about it and not afraid to look bad, which I like. The author is a good writer and it smooths out the dislike I have for her personality.
Of course, what the author is looking for is to accept the dual nature she has within herself. There’s a lot about ballerina life in here, some about language and communication, some about an eating disorder, and some about wanting to return to the comfort of being a part of your mother.
The author feels incomplete. That she must have had a twin in the womb that vanished and now she needs to seek this twinness in others. She finds a twin in her childhood friend, in her office companion, in her husband, and the androgynous women she dates. She mirrors them, feeling like this doubling of people makes them more whole. She’s really dependent on this need for another person to be by her side, which I find annoying, but the author is honest about it and not afraid to look bad, which I like. The author is a good writer and it smooths out the dislike I have for her personality.
Of course, what the author is looking for is to accept the dual nature she has within herself. There’s a lot about ballerina life in here, some about language and communication, some about an eating disorder, and some about wanting to return to the comfort of being a part of your mother.
September 4, 2023
I have been Told too much! 2.5 sorry
July 26, 2018
It's refreshing to read a memoir as real as this one. I always feel like authors polish up the best parts and skate over the tarnish. Not Dieterich. She gives us such an honest narrative. This book is brilliant. It has me wondering if maybe I have a twin somewhere.
April 5, 2018
I loved this memoir--Dieterich offers a meditation on so many things--twinship, love, sex, bodies, place, art and more. Told in beautiful sparse prose, the vignettes come together to create such a sure narrative of a loving marriage that feels wholly surprising and tantalizing. Think Maggie Nelson, Sarah Manguso and Joan Didion mixed with Dieterich's original energy. This is a book I wanted to savor, but instead read feverishly in about two sittings. This book has really stayed with me.
November 28, 2018
Breathtaking!
July 31, 2018
'Vanishing Twins' compounds snapshots of dance, the twin-ness of life, and unspoken desires to reap a startling meditation on love's dissolution and rediscovery.
Leah Dietrich's writing feels true and utterly vulnerable; the story she shares, of the dive into an open marriage with her husband of nearly a decade, is plagued with doubt, specters of shame and existential terror. The emotional whirlwind of this book cuts deep. And remarkably, it is the most uplifting thing I've read in a long time.
Leah Dietrich's writing feels true and utterly vulnerable; the story she shares, of the dive into an open marriage with her husband of nearly a decade, is plagued with doubt, specters of shame and existential terror. The emotional whirlwind of this book cuts deep. And remarkably, it is the most uplifting thing I've read in a long time.
April 3, 2018
Leah's voice is artful and unfolds the complexity of desire in surprising ways. She is deft in her juxtapositions of love and movement and creates space for exploration through her storytelling.
September 22, 2018
A remarkable book that will certainly have a different meaning for every reader. I found the vanishing twin theme the most intriguing as I have had some of the same feelings. Although it
reads like a novel it is a memoir that is truly written from the heart and documents a search for a life style that fits and offers comfort. It feels honest and vulnerable and quite off the norm as the author works through her personal and professional relationships. The dance references add a bit of insight to the author and how things are and how she may have expected or wished them to be. A great journey with lots of heart and a good read.
reads like a novel it is a memoir that is truly written from the heart and documents a search for a life style that fits and offers comfort. It feels honest and vulnerable and quite off the norm as the author works through her personal and professional relationships. The dance references add a bit of insight to the author and how things are and how she may have expected or wished them to be. A great journey with lots of heart and a good read.
April 2, 2018
beautiful read. both the style and content, together, really capture something subtle & elusive about our inner narrative—its inscrutability, maybe? highly recommend.
May 12, 2021
4.5 or 5 stars...Either way, close to perfection.
Couldn't put this one down.
Couldn't put this one down.
September 12, 2018
Original. And smart. And brave.
March 6, 2021
i loved this book but i did not like it. even writing this review is uncomfortable -- never have i read someone write my own psychological and emotional entanglements, fantasizes, whims and quirks so accurately it's almost a bit scary. a book about the symbolic meaning the writer has given to twinship to explain her own sexual and romantic attachments, her exploration of couplehood and selfhood, of polyamory and bisexuality and gender, of growing pains. i devour papers about twin psychology because i read myself in them, everything that hurts and aches about relationships. i am leah's dieterich twin to a scary degree. reader/writer parent trap act i. i never considered i may have had a vanished twin. it seems too esoteric, almost, more magic than science. and yet.
i think i did not like this book because leah dieterich never shames her own needs and desires. she only explains them, in writing that is both straightforward and evocative. we are different that way. i did not like being told that that perfect fantasy of merged twin selfhood does not exist. at the same time, it soothed a very old wound to know someone out there has felt the exact same, weirdly hyperspecific way, and has found a place of peace that does not involve the killing of the fantasy, nor purification, but neither putting your hands over your ears to shut out the world. i wouldn't have wanted anyone but someone exactly like me to tell me this.
growing on your own is painful, but twinship requires so much sacrificing. while i am a glass half-empty kind of person, lea dieterich just shows you the glass and makes no sweeping judgments.
tl;dr: leah dieterich if you read this im free on Thursday night and would like to hang out. Please respond to this and then hang out with me on Thursday night when I’m free.
i think i did not like this book because leah dieterich never shames her own needs and desires. she only explains them, in writing that is both straightforward and evocative. we are different that way. i did not like being told that that perfect fantasy of merged twin selfhood does not exist. at the same time, it soothed a very old wound to know someone out there has felt the exact same, weirdly hyperspecific way, and has found a place of peace that does not involve the killing of the fantasy, nor purification, but neither putting your hands over your ears to shut out the world. i wouldn't have wanted anyone but someone exactly like me to tell me this.
growing on your own is painful, but twinship requires so much sacrificing. while i am a glass half-empty kind of person, lea dieterich just shows you the glass and makes no sweeping judgments.
tl;dr: leah dieterich if you read this im free on Thursday night and would like to hang out. Please respond to this and then hang out with me on Thursday night when I’m free.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 89 reviews