Up until now, there's really not much in the way of twin memoirs. What got you interested in writing a book about your experience growing up an identical twin?
I had never found anything on the shelf that accurately reflected what it's like to grow up a twin. I think it's an easy relationship to oversimplify. It's become the stand-in metaphor for what we all search for, someone who understands you without saying a word, someone who is your perfect match and other half. I think a lot of that is true. What was missing were the adult twin voices to say, "This is what it feels like, this is why it's emboldening, this is why you feel strengthened, but here are all these reasons why it can muddle your own sense of self."
In talking to so many twins, what did you find out about what it means to be a twin, what that relationship means?
So much of what I discovered is hard to put into words. If you start saying, "We're so close, we talk about everything," peoples' eyes roll over. A lot of twins' relationships are irrational and ineffable. There's a power to it, an obligation, a sense of being truly responsible. Without even really realizing it, Robin is one of the forces that keeps me afloat every day. Or there's Greg Hoffman [who lost his identical twin brother on September 11]. So many people have said to him, "Get over it, you're an adult, you have a family, you have other siblings, it's time to move on." But that will never happen for him because this was his identical twin brother.
What surprised you about twins in writing this book?
I think what was surprising was how the intimacy that can be so uplifting can also in a way be stunting. It can keep you from learning how to do friendship, make you lazy about other relationships and unpracticed. You're so used to a partner and sidekick and a backup that you don't develop those muscles sometimes. I think in a way, for Robin and me, the twinship ended up getting in the way of our friendships. I saw that for a number of twins, where you're growing up alongside someone. |
