From digital “twins” to Mar-a-Lago replicas and conspiracy theories about Melania Trump, doubles are everywhere in contemporary culture – and especially in a wave of new novels that use the Gothic tradition to reflect the paranoias of our time.
Isabel Waidner's fifth novel, As If, begins with the meeting of two weary strangers, Aubrey and Lindsey. Lindsey has shown up at Aubrey's door, and Aubrey invites her in, curiously observing how much they resemble each other.
“He had dark brown hair, not unlike mine,” Aubrey says. “My usual eyes were looking back at me.” This uncertain beginning sets the tone for a disturbing read, which is eerily similar to my new novel, Lean Cat, Savage Cat.
Both novels explore protagonists from the lower echelons of showbiz, use the language of fashion in ways that make you feel alienated, and collide the myths of artistic life with the reality of housing and income insecurity.
Both deal with the raw pain that fragments the psyche – and, most importantly, they focus on a mysterious pair of doubles. In fact, both were published on the same day. The question that naturally arises: does my novel have a doppelganger of its own?
From spy programs to conspiracy theories that Melania Trump has been replaced by a lookalike, we are in a moment of profound paranoia. The figure of the doppelganger permeates all of contemporary culture – books, fashion and film.
He has always been present: from The Student of Prague to modern horrors like The Substance and Get Out, where themes of identity and fame are treated in new ways.
In fashion, Kate Moss's twin, Denise Ohnona, plays her in runway shows and advertisements, while H&M has created "twins" of real models for its campaigns. At Berlin Fashion Week, the GmbH presented the "Doppelgänger" collection.
In literature, the phenomenon continues: in Deborah Levy's August Blue a pianist is haunted by his double consciousness; in Rebecca F Kuang's Yellowface, a stolen writer is harassed online by the spirit of the real author; in Tobi Coventry's He's the Devil, a poor waiter observes a roommate who is a body-shifting demon.
On the internet, we create digital doppelgangers, posting filtered photos of the lives we don't live, while big tech generates virtual versions of users to track behavior and target ads. On dating apps, the phenomenon of "catfishing" points to the same fundamental fear: double identities and deception.
Historically, the doppelganger has been an expression of unacceptable desires and impulses: from Bertha Mason to William Wilson and Robert to James Hogg, the doubling appeared to demonstrate or hinder moral actions.
Today, it appears in all forms of art and culture – literary, visual, and digital – reflecting our eternal fear that someone else is watching and imitating us.
As happened with reading As If, sometimes it feels like we're working on the same project at the same time – maybe we're the same people.
Our paranoias could sometimes be explained by magic, ghosts or fortune tellers, but today they stem from corporate espionage and data leaks. Doppelgangers are everywhere and always will be – in books, movies and our digital lives – reminding us that our fears never leave us. /GazetaExpress/
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