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As a result, we're destined to endure an unrelenting stream of celebu-spawn. We'll watch Maddox Jolie-Pitt grow up to be the next Sofia Coppola, and we'll swoon over the dilettantish dabblings of a teenage Suri Cruise. Even if they seriously underachieve (and they will, they will), attention will be paid. Which is why, at this very moment, there are countless bloggers scribbling about the social ascendance of 19-year-old Rumer "Potato Head" Willis; teams of tabloid journalists dutifully reporting the details of Peaches, Pixie, or Fifi Trixibelle Geldof's latest internship; and hordes of teens inexplicably entranced by Brody Jenner's every move.

Given our national obsession with corporate branding, the phenomenon of second-generation celebrity should come as no surprise. Increasingly, children are just brand extensions in person formGiven our national obsession with corporate branding, the phenomenon of second-generation celebrity should come as no surprise. Increasingly, children are just brand extensions in person form—human sequels, easier to green-light than untested projects. Their familiarity captures our attention in an endless, choppy ocean of white noise. Need a new president? Try a Clinton! (Not just Hillary, but Chelsea, too, whose political viability was recently heralded in a New York Magazine cover story.) Need a morning show host? Try Good Morning America's Chris Cuomo, the hunky son of New York's former governor. Or MSNBC's Mika Brzezinski, the daughter of the former national security advisor. Looking for a kid to star in your monster movie? Perhaps Elle Fanning, who's just like Dakota, only younger!

But the phenomenon isn't limited to the high-gloss, low-substance worlds of entertainment and presidential politics. Last fall, when the neocon writer John Podhoretz was named editor in chief of the journal Commentary (a post held by his father, Norman Podhoretz, for 35 years), some critics moaned that he was underqualified for the job. "I am who I am," Pod, Jr., fired back in the New York Times. "I have millions of words that you can read on Nexis." Besides, he added, Daddy had nothing to do with it. "I didn't want him to be involved in any way, shape, or form."

Last year, in an attempt to avoid a similar backlash, a young author published the novel Heart-Shaped Box under the name Joe Hill. After achieving a certain degree of success, he owned up to his real name, Joseph Hillstrom King, and that of his father, Stephen King. Joseph's younger brother, Owen King, showed less reluctance to cling to Dad's cargo shorts when he released We're All In This Together, a dark collection of short stories set in Maine, in 2005. A Washington Post critic declared the book a mini-masterpiece, saying, "King possesses a rare understanding of the macabre side of our workaday lives." Then again, given that he grew up in a creepy Victorian house in darkest Maine with Stephen King, how could he not?