Push by Sapphire
Reviewed by A. Jarrell Hayes
Before becoming an award-winning Sundance film featuring comedian Mo'Nique, Mariah Carey, and Lenny Kravitz, Push was a hard-hitting, ground-breaking novel from Sapphire. Written from the perspective of C. Precious Jones, an illiterate young black girl living in '80s Harlem, it pulls no punches, using graphic details and coarse language to create an authentic image of urban life below the poverty line. Not the urban life of shows like The Wire, where drug dealers are kings, but the life of everyday folks put through not-so everyday trauma.
Through no fault of her own, Precious is born to a father that rapes and impregnates her twice, a mother that abuses her in just about any way imaginable (and some that are beyond a reasonable mind), and a community that knows what's going on, but turns a blind eye as silent enablers. By Precious' own sometimes contradictory thoughts, she exposes some of the backwards dichotomy of urban life: belief in the fantasy that "white is right" and light is beautiful mixed with a distrust of white people, especially police and those in authority; though the first two people in the book that actually see her as a person are white -- her "maff" teacher that suggests she has an aptitude for math, and Mrs. Lichenstein that realizes Precious' current school is not doing it for her and pushes her to an alternative school. These two could have helped Precious due to ulterior motives, but the fact remains that when nobody cared about her, those two helped set her on the right track.
The right track was entering Ms. Rain's reading and writing class at Each One-Teach One. There Precious is no longer the overweight, mother of two babies by the age of 17 (both her children and siblings), ugly girl, but part of a community of other girls from similar backgrounds of abuse and rape. Under Ms. Rain's strict, yet compassionate, tutelage, Precious learns to read and write. More importantly, Precious learns about trust, friendship, self-expression, and self-actualization.
Basically that sounds like your normal feel-good, urban-life story. In some ways the book is, but the presentation of the book separates it from others of its ilk. As mention before, the book is written in the voice of Precious. But she starts off illiterate, speaking with improper English, misspelled words, and what can only be described as "hood talk." What is interesting is the way the writing and language matures in the narrative as Precious gains more mastery of the English language. Spelling becomes better, less use of profanity, vocabulary is increased, and ideas are clearer.
Precious also begins to think of herself differently, too. She begins to question if she really is ugly, as everyone else considers her, and if she could one day become a beautiful person like the white and light-skinned women she pictures as the epitome of beauty; she questions if beauty is really inside or outside. She doesn't want to end up like her mother, who lives off the system and refuses to do anything with her life, and aspires to obtain her G.E.D. and go to college, and is disgusted with the idea of "wiping the ass of ol' white folks" to make a living. Only in America can an illiterate girl aim for such lofty heights.
The book is our generation's version of Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man. Does that sound like high praise? Well, as with Ralph Ellison's classic novel, Push offers so much into the psyche of Blacks (in this case, urban Blacks) -- full of double-consciousness, contradictions, and such forth -- that it can be broken down and debated in volumes many times longer than the actual text itself -- just as Invisible Man did decades ago, and still does now. This book is a definite addition to any library, especially those of urban Black America.
"A. Jarrell Hayes is an author, poet, and blogger from Baltimore, MD. He has authored several novels and collections of poetry, all of which are available on his website www.ajhayes.com"
Through no fault of her own, Precious is born to a father that rapes and impregnates her twice, a mother that abuses her in just about any way imaginable (and some that are beyond a reasonable mind), and a community that knows what's going on, but turns a blind eye as silent enablers. By Precious' own sometimes contradictory thoughts, she exposes some of the backwards dichotomy of urban life: belief in the fantasy that "white is right" and light is beautiful mixed with a distrust of white people, especially police and those in authority; though the first two people in the book that actually see her as a person are white -- her "maff" teacher that suggests she has an aptitude for math, and Mrs. Lichenstein that realizes Precious' current school is not doing it for her and pushes her to an alternative school. These two could have helped Precious due to ulterior motives, but the fact remains that when nobody cared about her, those two helped set her on the right track.
The right track was entering Ms. Rain's reading and writing class at Each One-Teach One. There Precious is no longer the overweight, mother of two babies by the age of 17 (both her children and siblings), ugly girl, but part of a community of other girls from similar backgrounds of abuse and rape. Under Ms. Rain's strict, yet compassionate, tutelage, Precious learns to read and write. More importantly, Precious learns about trust, friendship, self-expression, and self-actualization.
Basically that sounds like your normal feel-good, urban-life story. In some ways the book is, but the presentation of the book separates it from others of its ilk. As mention before, the book is written in the voice of Precious. But she starts off illiterate, speaking with improper English, misspelled words, and what can only be described as "hood talk." What is interesting is the way the writing and language matures in the narrative as Precious gains more mastery of the English language. Spelling becomes better, less use of profanity, vocabulary is increased, and ideas are clearer.
Precious also begins to think of herself differently, too. She begins to question if she really is ugly, as everyone else considers her, and if she could one day become a beautiful person like the white and light-skinned women she pictures as the epitome of beauty; she questions if beauty is really inside or outside. She doesn't want to end up like her mother, who lives off the system and refuses to do anything with her life, and aspires to obtain her G.E.D. and go to college, and is disgusted with the idea of "wiping the ass of ol' white folks" to make a living. Only in America can an illiterate girl aim for such lofty heights.
The book is our generation's version of Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man. Does that sound like high praise? Well, as with Ralph Ellison's classic novel, Push offers so much into the psyche of Blacks (in this case, urban Blacks) -- full of double-consciousness, contradictions, and such forth -- that it can be broken down and debated in volumes many times longer than the actual text itself -- just as Invisible Man did decades ago, and still does now. This book is a definite addition to any library, especially those of urban Black America.
"A. Jarrell Hayes is an author, poet, and blogger from Baltimore, MD. He has authored several novels and collections of poetry, all of which are available on his website www.ajhayes.com"
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