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Precious #1
Push
NOW A MAJOR MOTION PICTURE
Includes a Reading Group Guide
Precious Jones, an illiterate sixteen-year-old, has up until now been invisible to the father who rapes her and the mother who batters her and to the authorities who dismiss her as just one more of Harlem's casualties. But when Precious, pregnant with a second child by her father, meets a determined and radical teacher, we follow her on a journey of education and enlightenment as she learns not only how to write about her life, but how to make it truly her own for the first time.
Includes a Reading Group Guide
Precious Jones, an illiterate sixteen-year-old, has up until now been invisible to the father who rapes her and the mother who batters her and to the authorities who dismiss her as just one more of Harlem's casualties. But when Precious, pregnant with a second child by her father, meets a determined and radical teacher, we follow her on a journey of education and enlightenment as she learns not only how to write about her life, but how to make it truly her own for the first time.
192 pages, Paperback
First published June 11, 1996
About the author
Sapphire
33 books591 followersSapphire the Author.
Sapphire is the author of Push, American Dreams, The Kid, and Black Wings & Blind Angels.
Push: A novel, won the Book-of-the-Month Club’s Stephen Crane award for First Fiction, the Black Caucus of the American Library Association’s First Novelist Award, and in Great Britain, the Mind Book of the Year Award. Named by the Village Voice and Time Out New York as one of the top ten books of 1996, Push was nominated for an NAACP Image Award in the category of Outstanding Literary Work of Fiction. Push was adapted into the Oscar winning film, Precious.
Sapphire’s work has appeared in The New Yorker, The New York Times Magazine, The New York Times Book Review, The Black Scholar, Spin, and Bomb. In February of 2007 Arizona State University presented PUSHing Boundaries, PUSHing Art: A Symposium on the Works of Sapphire. Sapphire's poetry has appeared in the following anthologies: Aloud: Voices from the Nuyorican Poets Cafe, Grabbed: Poets & Writers on Sexual Assault, Empowerment & Healing, and New Daughters of Africa: An International Anthology of Writing by Women of African Descent. Sapphire’s work has been translated into over a dozen languages and has been adapted for stage in the United States and Europe.
An excerpt from Sapphire's novel in progress, "The Harlem Trilogy," and a new poem, "Poem Found in Scientific American," along with an online interview can be found in the January 2024 issue of Torch Literary Arts:
https://www.torchliteraryarts.org/pos...
For more information, visit:
https://linktr.ee/sapphiretheauthor
Sapphire is the author of Push, American Dreams, The Kid, and Black Wings & Blind Angels.
Push: A novel, won the Book-of-the-Month Club’s Stephen Crane award for First Fiction, the Black Caucus of the American Library Association’s First Novelist Award, and in Great Britain, the Mind Book of the Year Award. Named by the Village Voice and Time Out New York as one of the top ten books of 1996, Push was nominated for an NAACP Image Award in the category of Outstanding Literary Work of Fiction. Push was adapted into the Oscar winning film, Precious.
Sapphire’s work has appeared in The New Yorker, The New York Times Magazine, The New York Times Book Review, The Black Scholar, Spin, and Bomb. In February of 2007 Arizona State University presented PUSHing Boundaries, PUSHing Art: A Symposium on the Works of Sapphire. Sapphire's poetry has appeared in the following anthologies: Aloud: Voices from the Nuyorican Poets Cafe, Grabbed: Poets & Writers on Sexual Assault, Empowerment & Healing, and New Daughters of Africa: An International Anthology of Writing by Women of African Descent. Sapphire’s work has been translated into over a dozen languages and has been adapted for stage in the United States and Europe.
An excerpt from Sapphire's novel in progress, "The Harlem Trilogy," and a new poem, "Poem Found in Scientific American," along with an online interview can be found in the January 2024 issue of Torch Literary Arts:
https://www.torchliteraryarts.org/pos...
For more information, visit:
https://linktr.ee/sapphiretheauthor
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 6,843 reviews
August 9, 2022
Update I read Precious not Push. It had a different cover. I'm aware it's the same book, but why change my edition?
5 stars for creating a really unique heroine
5 stars for an enjoyable, engrossing story
7 stars for beautiful use of language (yeah mutherfuckers, sometimes that word is the only word that fits)
I didn't put much faith in an author named 'Sapphire'. More urban fiction: ghetto girl's acrylics scratch eyes out of baby father's new crack-addicted girlfriend, I thought. (Not that I don't quite enjoy urban fiction, Zane is quite good and very spicy). I couldn't have been more wrong. The writing in the book is a joy to read. It isn't, as most good writing is, just a vehicle to convey the material as much as a vibrant and necessary component of the story. The literary device of the writing changing, opening, blooming along with the story is remarkably well-executed.
The story is really of how the system has failed those at the very bottom of society. How no one cares about those who fall through the cracks so long as they do it quietly. It's very much a diatribe against an America that so many blacks feel they had no place in forming and no place within as a right. The racism and other prejudices are that of poverty. Lack of experience and gossip being the main vehicles for knowledge rather than books and education. In other words, the racism is not at all deep-seated, it's something that can easily be changed for the better.
It is a wonderful book on every level, not just the writing, or the story, or the tremendous creation of Precious - antithesis of a heroine, a 250lb girl who describes herself as too dark and ugly, and whose taste in clothes is appalling (but hopeful, fluorescent yellow leggings and a leather jacket) but also the ending. There isn't one, it's in your mind. And perhaps in how you might see your home town after reading it, and maybe also in who you vote for on your local council. It's really you that can make the ending.
5 stars for creating a really unique heroine
5 stars for an enjoyable, engrossing story
7 stars for beautiful use of language (yeah mutherfuckers, sometimes that word is the only word that fits)
I didn't put much faith in an author named 'Sapphire'. More urban fiction: ghetto girl's acrylics scratch eyes out of baby father's new crack-addicted girlfriend, I thought. (Not that I don't quite enjoy urban fiction, Zane is quite good and very spicy). I couldn't have been more wrong. The writing in the book is a joy to read. It isn't, as most good writing is, just a vehicle to convey the material as much as a vibrant and necessary component of the story. The literary device of the writing changing, opening, blooming along with the story is remarkably well-executed.
The story is really of how the system has failed those at the very bottom of society. How no one cares about those who fall through the cracks so long as they do it quietly. It's very much a diatribe against an America that so many blacks feel they had no place in forming and no place within as a right. The racism and other prejudices are that of poverty. Lack of experience and gossip being the main vehicles for knowledge rather than books and education. In other words, the racism is not at all deep-seated, it's something that can easily be changed for the better.
It is a wonderful book on every level, not just the writing, or the story, or the tremendous creation of Precious - antithesis of a heroine, a 250lb girl who describes herself as too dark and ugly, and whose taste in clothes is appalling (but hopeful, fluorescent yellow leggings and a leather jacket) but also the ending. There isn't one, it's in your mind. And perhaps in how you might see your home town after reading it, and maybe also in who you vote for on your local council. It's really you that can make the ending.
December 4, 2011
I HATED this book. Don't get me wrong, I understand that horrendous things happen to people on a daily basis and that there are triumphant stories of those who have risen from the wreckage and are now living as icons of survival.
But this book is not like that, really. This book is more like "Listen, Precious has been raped and now I want to rape you too." And after you read the book, you need therapy and you feel like Precious is not really okay like the book tried to say she is at the end.
Other things that ticked me off:
*The rape details. I GET IT! It was heinous and disgusting but I really think the author wanted everyone who read this book to feel raped along with Precious so that we can just - feel raped. As readers, we can't be trusted by Sapphire to be empathetic enough on our own
*The fact that Precious enjoyed being raped. Even more abominable (and unbelievable) especially the way she described "enjoying" it. Ugh! Thankfully, I wasn't near a bridge when I read that part because I would have certainly jumped off of one.
*The writing was intentionally horrific and inconsistent. If you want to write in illiterate form so that the readers can hear Precious' true voice, fine. Just be consistent about it.
*Precious hated (or didn't understand) Gays and made ignorant comments about them. Umm, your Dad raped you and you think Gay people are your problem?
Well, this is the author's agenda you see? She is Bisexual and wants to point out that Gay people are not demonic sinners like Precious' "straight" father.
*Precious BLAMES THE WHITE MAN for the reasons why her Daddy is a drug-addict rapist.
I could go on and on...but I feel sick so I'll just stop.
This book gets zero stars from me, but zero isn't an option.
EDITED TO ADD:
I am seeing comments declaring that if an author can make you go through the character's trauma with her, then she is doing a good job.
I disagree with this sentiment. The author's job is to express what the character is experiencing without personally attacking YOU as the READER. And this is what Push delivers, a personal attack, instead of gathering my interest to help girls like Precious. After all, what is the purpose of such a novel if not to create awareness of such heinous events and propel this awareness to form organizations that educate girls like Precious on understanding that what they are experiencing is wrong and criminal; and there is a way out?
Forcing the reader to feel raped simply does just that - abuses the reader. It's easy to just write down a bunch of vulgar details and call it "the realness."
Instead of feeling sorry for Precious, I felt sorry for myself for having ever even touched this book.
Having said that, I am an avid financial supporter of PreventChildAbuse.org and not because I read this book. I'd rather do something about this problem than read about it in a novel, or watch it in a movie as some form of entertainment.
But this book is not like that, really. This book is more like "Listen, Precious has been raped and now I want to rape you too." And after you read the book, you need therapy and you feel like Precious is not really okay like the book tried to say she is at the end.
Other things that ticked me off:
*The rape details. I GET IT! It was heinous and disgusting but I really think the author wanted everyone who read this book to feel raped along with Precious so that we can just - feel raped. As readers, we can't be trusted by Sapphire to be empathetic enough on our own
*The fact that Precious enjoyed being raped. Even more abominable (and unbelievable) especially the way she described "enjoying" it. Ugh! Thankfully, I wasn't near a bridge when I read that part because I would have certainly jumped off of one.
*The writing was intentionally horrific and inconsistent. If you want to write in illiterate form so that the readers can hear Precious' true voice, fine. Just be consistent about it.
*Precious hated (or didn't understand) Gays and made ignorant comments about them. Umm, your Dad raped you and you think Gay people are your problem?
Well, this is the author's agenda you see? She is Bisexual and wants to point out that Gay people are not demonic sinners like Precious' "straight" father.
*Precious BLAMES THE WHITE MAN for the reasons why her Daddy is a drug-addict rapist.
I could go on and on...but I feel sick so I'll just stop.
This book gets zero stars from me, but zero isn't an option.
EDITED TO ADD:
I am seeing comments declaring that if an author can make you go through the character's trauma with her, then she is doing a good job.
I disagree with this sentiment. The author's job is to express what the character is experiencing without personally attacking YOU as the READER. And this is what Push delivers, a personal attack, instead of gathering my interest to help girls like Precious. After all, what is the purpose of such a novel if not to create awareness of such heinous events and propel this awareness to form organizations that educate girls like Precious on understanding that what they are experiencing is wrong and criminal; and there is a way out?
Forcing the reader to feel raped simply does just that - abuses the reader. It's easy to just write down a bunch of vulgar details and call it "the realness."
Instead of feeling sorry for Precious, I felt sorry for myself for having ever even touched this book.
Having said that, I am an avid financial supporter of PreventChildAbuse.org and not because I read this book. I'd rather do something about this problem than read about it in a novel, or watch it in a movie as some form of entertainment.
December 15, 2009
There is a debate (or at least an ongoing conversation) among teachers who help college students hone their reading skills. What exactly, do you have the students read? The great works of literature, such as Homer, Emerson (yes, Vicky, I am thinking about our conversation the other night)? Do you have them read more modern works? How do you teach reading when you also have to teach reference? The best example of this is when my students were reading an essay about wetlands and thought the word crane only referred to the building machine. They couldn't figure out why it was flying. And no, my students are not stupid, and some are well traveled. They just don't read, usually because school has failed them.
When I teach pre-college level reading, I make my students do book reports. They can choose the books. This surprises them, and most of my students will read something by Terry Woods, like The Dutch books (a series about a drug dealer). One student was surprised that I let her read them. I just wanted her to read. Literature, she can get in my class. Her last teacher had said she could read whatever she wanted for a book report, until she brought in the Dutch book. Last year, one of my 101 level students asked me to read some of the books that she reads. After all, she said, I was making them read Dracula. I said yes. For those of you who live in a big city, her books would be those books you can get from a street vendor, sometimes from a bookstore. What has been called Urban African American fiction. These books deal with life in the inner city and are usually, though not always, published by small firms.
Out of three books my student loaned me, two could have used more than just spell-check, one was little more than badly written fan fiction; one I understood the appeal of (though the writing needed polish), and the last, by Sister Souljah, was good. Sister Souljah's novel aside, the books, in short, were not what us "literary" teachers read. The flaws were far too many and the plot was eye brow rising, and did explain why my students make some of the mistakes they do.
Yet this type of work is important because it reflects something about society.
Yet this genre also includes a book such as Precious, a book I will use in my classes.
The book is not an easy read for two reasons. One is the subject matter. Precious is abused by both her father and her mother. The second reason is the early spelling. What Sapphire boldly does is capturing Precious's voice, and captures it exactly. Precious cannot read; therefore, she cannot spell. Unlike two of the books I mentioned above, the errors in Precious are important. They let the reader really know Precious, and come as close to her life as is possible. What is more, the writing improves as Precious changes her life. Sapphire is using language on many different levels. Using language in the strictest terms of communication, and she deserves award after award for this.
If the spelling was perfect, the book would lack half of its impact, if not more.
Some idiots, and I use this word intentionally, will say a story like this could never happen.
BULLSH**!
I have taught people who came from where Precious comes from. It is shocking what your students will sometimes tell you. It is even more shocking when the student's next comment is about how impressed she is with you because you went straight to college after high school. Yet, the student is going to school while working two jobs, is a single mother, and has usually come though a violent relationship (or two).
That's impressive. Not me.
What Sapphire gives the reader is a true story. An uplifting story with a good dose of sadness, but a story that many teachers will know, will recognize, and will be nodding their heads over. This is far better than those feel good Hollywood teacher movies. This, like Entre les murs(The Class), is what life and teaching are.
Additionally, the action in the classroom rings true. While the whole book is told from Precious’ point of view, the actions of Miz Rain and Precious’ classmates ring true. Even JoAnn who disappears from the class rings true. Any teacher will tell you that there are students like that in the classroom. The sense of cohesion and togetherness that a good class can achieve is realistically drawn. This is not the Hollywood movie where the white suburban teacher comes into an inner city class room fresh from the suburbs. This is not the story where after a tough first two weeks, she magically touches her students who all start behaving well and gets scholarships to Princeton (or some other Ivy League school). If this was a Hollywood story, it would end with Precious, now a successful something, returning to her old school and thanking the (white) principal and (white) math teacher who arranged for her to join the alternative school.
No, thankfully, it’s not that type of story.
Classes don’t work like that. Teachers have bad days. Students have bad days. True, sometimes there will be that shocking light, where everything comes together. But for days, weeks, months before that, there is hard work. Hard repetitive work, for both the teacher and student. Sapphire catches this.
What stands out the most, however, is Precious herself. While the reader feels pity and horror for her, Precious doesn’t demand that pity. Compared to other books where the female protagonist is horribly abused or mistreated (or in the case of The Lovely Bones, killed) and gets the reader’s pity though the suffering of victimhood, Precious doesn’t do that. We see her angry and disruptive. She curses. She has something. Nice is the word you want to use, but it doesn’t really fit. She is, in fact, a victim, though to call her this cheapens her. Instead, Precious gets us on her side by simply existing. By stating in a matter fact tone of voice what is, and yet because of her frankness, we admire and like her. We root for her simply because she earns our respect. Despite the fact that her story is not ours, there are the roots of everyman, everywoman, in her. We all sometimes feel the way Precious sometimes feels.
This makes her real.
Read this book
When I teach pre-college level reading, I make my students do book reports. They can choose the books. This surprises them, and most of my students will read something by Terry Woods, like The Dutch books (a series about a drug dealer). One student was surprised that I let her read them. I just wanted her to read. Literature, she can get in my class. Her last teacher had said she could read whatever she wanted for a book report, until she brought in the Dutch book. Last year, one of my 101 level students asked me to read some of the books that she reads. After all, she said, I was making them read Dracula. I said yes. For those of you who live in a big city, her books would be those books you can get from a street vendor, sometimes from a bookstore. What has been called Urban African American fiction. These books deal with life in the inner city and are usually, though not always, published by small firms.
Out of three books my student loaned me, two could have used more than just spell-check, one was little more than badly written fan fiction; one I understood the appeal of (though the writing needed polish), and the last, by Sister Souljah, was good. Sister Souljah's novel aside, the books, in short, were not what us "literary" teachers read. The flaws were far too many and the plot was eye brow rising, and did explain why my students make some of the mistakes they do.
Yet this type of work is important because it reflects something about society.
Yet this genre also includes a book such as Precious, a book I will use in my classes.
The book is not an easy read for two reasons. One is the subject matter. Precious is abused by both her father and her mother. The second reason is the early spelling. What Sapphire boldly does is capturing Precious's voice, and captures it exactly. Precious cannot read; therefore, she cannot spell. Unlike two of the books I mentioned above, the errors in Precious are important. They let the reader really know Precious, and come as close to her life as is possible. What is more, the writing improves as Precious changes her life. Sapphire is using language on many different levels. Using language in the strictest terms of communication, and she deserves award after award for this.
If the spelling was perfect, the book would lack half of its impact, if not more.
Some idiots, and I use this word intentionally, will say a story like this could never happen.
BULLSH**!
I have taught people who came from where Precious comes from. It is shocking what your students will sometimes tell you. It is even more shocking when the student's next comment is about how impressed she is with you because you went straight to college after high school. Yet, the student is going to school while working two jobs, is a single mother, and has usually come though a violent relationship (or two).
That's impressive. Not me.
What Sapphire gives the reader is a true story. An uplifting story with a good dose of sadness, but a story that many teachers will know, will recognize, and will be nodding their heads over. This is far better than those feel good Hollywood teacher movies. This, like Entre les murs(The Class), is what life and teaching are.
Additionally, the action in the classroom rings true. While the whole book is told from Precious’ point of view, the actions of Miz Rain and Precious’ classmates ring true. Even JoAnn who disappears from the class rings true. Any teacher will tell you that there are students like that in the classroom. The sense of cohesion and togetherness that a good class can achieve is realistically drawn. This is not the Hollywood movie where the white suburban teacher comes into an inner city class room fresh from the suburbs. This is not the story where after a tough first two weeks, she magically touches her students who all start behaving well and gets scholarships to Princeton (or some other Ivy League school). If this was a Hollywood story, it would end with Precious, now a successful something, returning to her old school and thanking the (white) principal and (white) math teacher who arranged for her to join the alternative school.
No, thankfully, it’s not that type of story.
Classes don’t work like that. Teachers have bad days. Students have bad days. True, sometimes there will be that shocking light, where everything comes together. But for days, weeks, months before that, there is hard work. Hard repetitive work, for both the teacher and student. Sapphire catches this.
What stands out the most, however, is Precious herself. While the reader feels pity and horror for her, Precious doesn’t demand that pity. Compared to other books where the female protagonist is horribly abused or mistreated (or in the case of The Lovely Bones, killed) and gets the reader’s pity though the suffering of victimhood, Precious doesn’t do that. We see her angry and disruptive. She curses. She has something. Nice is the word you want to use, but it doesn’t really fit. She is, in fact, a victim, though to call her this cheapens her. Instead, Precious gets us on her side by simply existing. By stating in a matter fact tone of voice what is, and yet because of her frankness, we admire and like her. We root for her simply because she earns our respect. Despite the fact that her story is not ours, there are the roots of everyman, everywoman, in her. We all sometimes feel the way Precious sometimes feels.
This makes her real.
Read this book
December 5, 2012
PUSH exceeds the limits of my understanding. I am a white male; moderately affluent; educated; healthy; and able to say that my foundation from my past has allowed me to become the person I am today. Precious Jones is none of these things. If anything, she is the antithesis of what I am.
This is not her fault.
Blame birth. Chance. Possibility.
But what I have does not compare to what Precious Jones has. She is a fighter; a survivor of incest; HIV positive; beyond impoverished; and yet, hope burns eternal within her. No matter how the cards may be stacked against her, she fights.
If anything, Precious Jones and her story illustrate how savagely we precipitate violence upon each other. And this violence is not born of strangers...this violence comes across the breakfast nook or the bedroom or the school yard; from people you thought you could trust.
Admittedly, I will never know what it is like to walk in her shoes. For me to even feel empathy for Precious feels like I am being hypocritical. Me wincing at the passages does not change the event. Me reading this story, as fictionalized as it may be, does not change the fact that somewhere a Precious is experiencing the violence and shame and suffering that no person should ever have to endure. For some person tonight, this story is real.
Sapphire has done her part. She has relayed a tale of woe. And as much as I could be critical about the overwritten parts, the parts that scream look at me, stare, become aghast, I will never forget that this story is entirely plausible.
Perhaps that is my role in this story. Perhaps my only job was to be witness to the vile nature of humanity. I have seen, now. But it doesn't change the fact that I can still close my eyes, kiss my children, get into my SUV and go to the park, make a steak, go on vacation, make love to a woman that loves me back, and forget that people like Precious will never get to do these things.
A heavy read, my friends, a heavy read.
HIGHLY RECOMMENDED
This is not her fault.
Blame birth. Chance. Possibility.
But what I have does not compare to what Precious Jones has. She is a fighter; a survivor of incest; HIV positive; beyond impoverished; and yet, hope burns eternal within her. No matter how the cards may be stacked against her, she fights.
If anything, Precious Jones and her story illustrate how savagely we precipitate violence upon each other. And this violence is not born of strangers...this violence comes across the breakfast nook or the bedroom or the school yard; from people you thought you could trust.
Admittedly, I will never know what it is like to walk in her shoes. For me to even feel empathy for Precious feels like I am being hypocritical. Me wincing at the passages does not change the event. Me reading this story, as fictionalized as it may be, does not change the fact that somewhere a Precious is experiencing the violence and shame and suffering that no person should ever have to endure. For some person tonight, this story is real.
Sapphire has done her part. She has relayed a tale of woe. And as much as I could be critical about the overwritten parts, the parts that scream look at me, stare, become aghast, I will never forget that this story is entirely plausible.
Perhaps that is my role in this story. Perhaps my only job was to be witness to the vile nature of humanity. I have seen, now. But it doesn't change the fact that I can still close my eyes, kiss my children, get into my SUV and go to the park, make a steak, go on vacation, make love to a woman that loves me back, and forget that people like Precious will never get to do these things.
A heavy read, my friends, a heavy read.
HIGHLY RECOMMENDED
April 6, 2007
I can't remember exactly when I threw this book across the room for the first time - was it when Precious' mom beats her? when she steals food just to eat? when her father rapes her and she gets pregnant? when he rapes her again and she gets pregnant again and the baby has down-syndrome? when she finds out the baby has AIDS? when she finds out SHE has AIDS? when she finally learns to read and then begins writing lots of broken poetry, all of which is included in the book? I've never read a book which I felt so exploited human missery; Saphine wields it like a sledge-hammer to the reader's skull.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
March 10, 2010
I was going to write up a Celebrity Death Match between Sapphire and Dave Pelzer for the title of Most Abused Child Ever, but on second thoughts, silence is golden.
One last thing. I remember reading Push and watching The Wire during the same week had a strange effect on me which for a white English male was not a good thing. A work colleague asked me if Push was any good and I barked at him bitch be messin my mind and shit .
One last thing. I remember reading Push and watching The Wire during the same week had a strange effect on me which for a white English male was not a good thing. A work colleague asked me if Push was any good and I barked at him bitch be messin my mind and shit .
March 4, 2020
For the longest time "Precious" was my favorite "modern" (2009 & up) movie. It had the gospel-and-church-strong power to compel me to immediately look upon my own life reflexively, and pronounce it all not too bad after all. Other souls are in peril, of course, and all I can do is complain about my own vapid existence! In truth, the movie adaptation is a horror film disguised as Oscar-baiting melodrama.
It's powerful; a very visceral kick to the gut. & the book is no different. Sure, it's devoid that once in a lifetime performance by M'onique. The total effect of the conspicuous & sporadic absence of the monstrous mother is one of tension, of the potential bite of the ferocious beast in the dark, that's to naturally come.
Sapphire's novel works like a real, and less tediously-awful "Flowers for Algernon". It remains a brilliant (& worthwhile) piece of art.
It's powerful; a very visceral kick to the gut. & the book is no different. Sure, it's devoid that once in a lifetime performance by M'onique. The total effect of the conspicuous & sporadic absence of the monstrous mother is one of tension, of the potential bite of the ferocious beast in the dark, that's to naturally come.
Sapphire's novel works like a real, and less tediously-awful "Flowers for Algernon". It remains a brilliant (& worthwhile) piece of art.
May 7, 2019
Mental Health A Thon: Intersectional Rep(Black, Depression, Trauma Survivor)
4.5 Stars
I have had this book for YEARS. I bought it right around the time the movie came out but I never read it. I watched the movie and thought it was moving & great but I still didn't read the book. I don't tend to read "Misery Porn".
If you're asking What is Misery Porn?
It is books in which the characters experience one awful thing after another with no sort of resolution or end to the pain. Books in which the suffering seems gratuitous and extreme.
These books just keep stabbing you in the gut with terrible tragedy after terrible tragedy in hopes that you'll cry.
I'm not a crier, it takes a lot to make me cry. I haven't cried in 3 years. I'm not bragging about my toughness, I know I'm weird but I just don't cry. So it annoys me when I feel like a book is trying to force or manipulate me into crying. I don't like it. I was afraid that Push would be one of those books.
But I'm happy to say it wasn't.
Push is a tough read and Precious goes through more than anyone should ever have to but it felt more based in fact than most "Misery Porn" books. As a teenager I volunteered to help adults with reading problems(I'm not a good person, I only did for credit hours to graduate) and some of the stories these people shared were horrifying. Push may be fiction but for a lot people its fact. I have never felt more blessed to have been born to great parents, in a middle class neighborhood and to have gone to private school. My upbringing was boring and normal and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Push is about Precious Jones an illiterate 16 year old black girl living in Harlem. Her life is a waking nightmare. Her father rapes her and she has giving birth to 2 children with him. Her mother abuses her in every way possible physically, emotionally and sexually. The public school system has failed her she's 16 and still in middle school and she can't read or write.
I mean how the Fuck does that happen?
Precious doesn't have a soul in this world who loves or cares about her and she has zero self worth. Precious feels like she is invisible and has no future.
Until finally she is sent to an alternative school and a teacher actually takes an interest her education but most importantly this teacher takes an interest in her life.
Push is an amazing read but if you can't handle graphic descriptions of rape and other abuse DON'T READ THIS! Sapphire takes no prisoners with this one. Damn its intense but so important. I deducted half a star because the early pages are very hard to read because its written the way Precious talks and since Precious is illiterate its a confusing read.
I highly recommend it!
4.5 Stars
I have had this book for YEARS. I bought it right around the time the movie came out but I never read it. I watched the movie and thought it was moving & great but I still didn't read the book. I don't tend to read "Misery Porn".
If you're asking What is Misery Porn?
It is books in which the characters experience one awful thing after another with no sort of resolution or end to the pain. Books in which the suffering seems gratuitous and extreme.
These books just keep stabbing you in the gut with terrible tragedy after terrible tragedy in hopes that you'll cry.
I'm not a crier, it takes a lot to make me cry. I haven't cried in 3 years. I'm not bragging about my toughness, I know I'm weird but I just don't cry. So it annoys me when I feel like a book is trying to force or manipulate me into crying. I don't like it. I was afraid that Push would be one of those books.
But I'm happy to say it wasn't.
Push is a tough read and Precious goes through more than anyone should ever have to but it felt more based in fact than most "Misery Porn" books. As a teenager I volunteered to help adults with reading problems(I'm not a good person, I only did for credit hours to graduate) and some of the stories these people shared were horrifying. Push may be fiction but for a lot people its fact. I have never felt more blessed to have been born to great parents, in a middle class neighborhood and to have gone to private school. My upbringing was boring and normal and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Push is about Precious Jones an illiterate 16 year old black girl living in Harlem. Her life is a waking nightmare. Her father rapes her and she has giving birth to 2 children with him. Her mother abuses her in every way possible physically, emotionally and sexually. The public school system has failed her she's 16 and still in middle school and she can't read or write.
I mean how the Fuck does that happen?
Precious doesn't have a soul in this world who loves or cares about her and she has zero self worth. Precious feels like she is invisible and has no future.
Until finally she is sent to an alternative school and a teacher actually takes an interest her education but most importantly this teacher takes an interest in her life.
Push is an amazing read but if you can't handle graphic descriptions of rape and other abuse DON'T READ THIS! Sapphire takes no prisoners with this one. Damn its intense but so important. I deducted half a star because the early pages are very hard to read because its written the way Precious talks and since Precious is illiterate its a confusing read.
I highly recommend it!
November 10, 2020
Este es el libro que inspiró la película Precious.
La película es mucho mejor que el libro, creo que es de lo pocos casos que conozco donde la adaptación supera el original. ¿Por qué? bueno, el libro se repite y se repite una y otra vez, recalcando que sufrió abusos por parte de su padre, y no me malentiendan, sí es grave, pero creo que el objetivo de la autora fue crear morbo con la situación, porque cuando la historia se tornaba lenta, ella lo volvía a hacer: "Mi padre me folla, mi padre me folla".
Ese es otro problema: el vocabulario. Literal no podías leer un párrafo sin que éste tuviera una mala palabra. Mierda, polla, follar, coño... Me estresaba tanta grosería. Tal vez se deba a que estaba narrado en primera persona y, pues, así era el personaje. Pero bueno, no soy fan cuando las groserías están en la narración, en los diálogos lo puedo entender.
¿Qué más? tal vez recalcar el final casi abierto, lo cual no me gustó. hubo algo forzado que no quiero nombrar para no hacer spoiler. Pero el final es, desde mi punto de vista, malo.
Los personajes secundarios son PLANOS. La historia está narrada en presente continuo, algo bueno ya que justifica los problemas de analfabetismo de la prota, se siente como si leyeras sus pensamientos y no algo que ella escribió.
Pienso en buscar algo bueno de la historia, y lo único que se me ocurre es decir que mejor vean la película. Aunque recalco el hecho que no haya abandonado el libro, pues tenía esperanzas que mejorara.
No soy bueno dando opiniones negativas, prefiero no hacerlo, pero qué más da...
edit: ¡OMG, ya aprendí a poner imágenes!
La película es mucho mejor que el libro, creo que es de lo pocos casos que conozco donde la adaptación supera el original. ¿Por qué? bueno, el libro se repite y se repite una y otra vez, recalcando que sufrió abusos por parte de su padre, y no me malentiendan, sí es grave, pero creo que el objetivo de la autora fue crear morbo con la situación, porque cuando la historia se tornaba lenta, ella lo volvía a hacer: "Mi padre me folla, mi padre me folla".
Ese es otro problema: el vocabulario. Literal no podías leer un párrafo sin que éste tuviera una mala palabra. Mierda, polla, follar, coño... Me estresaba tanta grosería. Tal vez se deba a que estaba narrado en primera persona y, pues, así era el personaje. Pero bueno, no soy fan cuando las groserías están en la narración, en los diálogos lo puedo entender.
¿Qué más? tal vez recalcar el final casi abierto, lo cual no me gustó. hubo algo forzado que no quiero nombrar para no hacer spoiler. Pero el final es, desde mi punto de vista, malo.
Los personajes secundarios son PLANOS. La historia está narrada en presente continuo, algo bueno ya que justifica los problemas de analfabetismo de la prota, se siente como si leyeras sus pensamientos y no algo que ella escribió.
Pienso en buscar algo bueno de la historia, y lo único que se me ocurre es decir que mejor vean la película. Aunque recalco el hecho que no haya abandonado el libro, pues tenía esperanzas que mejorara.
No soy bueno dando opiniones negativas, prefiero no hacerlo, pero qué más da...
edit: ¡OMG, ya aprendí a poner imágenes!
May 20, 2023
"Ms Rain love 'The Color Purple' too but say realism has its virtues too. Izm, smizm! Sometimes I wanna tell Ms Rain shut up with all the IZM stuff. But she my teacher so I don't tell her shut up. I don't know what 'realism' mean but I do know what REALITY is and it's a motherf***er, lemme tell you." -- seventeen year-old student Claireece 'Precious' Jones, on page 83
I can see how Push is a divisive novella - yes, it's often harsh, crude, and even manipulative, plus with the understandable lack of any 'happily ever after' conclusion there is just not a whole lot of joy (although there are occasionally effective moments of humor) to be gained by reading it. I mean, a story about the adolescent Precious suffering years of sexual abuse from her father (bearing two children by him) as well as continual mental/physical abuse from her mother would clearly make some readers want to run to the hills. Yet it DID work for me - other than the teenage protagonist's unenlightened thoughts and views (her indelicate comments on persons with different sexual orientations and/or from other races were often crass or uncomfortable, but likely also probable given her very troubled and sheltered background) her succinct story was an involving one, and I especially liked that 1.) the narrative showed that the title character was making steady progress with her reading and writing skills after receiving some specialized learning support and 2.) the respective teacher and social worker characters of Ms Rain and Ms Weiss made a positive impact in this teenager's life by offering her encouragement, and were not just uncaring cogs in a damaged system that has filled them with too much cynicism. There aren't many sure things in this world, so sometimes it really means something to cheer on a fictional character trying to better themselves and/or potentially escape from the horrible set of cards they were dealt from life's stacked deck.
I can see how Push is a divisive novella - yes, it's often harsh, crude, and even manipulative, plus with the understandable lack of any 'happily ever after' conclusion there is just not a whole lot of joy (although there are occasionally effective moments of humor) to be gained by reading it. I mean, a story about the adolescent Precious suffering years of sexual abuse from her father (bearing two children by him) as well as continual mental/physical abuse from her mother would clearly make some readers want to run to the hills. Yet it DID work for me - other than the teenage protagonist's unenlightened thoughts and views (her indelicate comments on persons with different sexual orientations and/or from other races were often crass or uncomfortable, but likely also probable given her very troubled and sheltered background) her succinct story was an involving one, and I especially liked that 1.) the narrative showed that the title character was making steady progress with her reading and writing skills after receiving some specialized learning support and 2.) the respective teacher and social worker characters of Ms Rain and Ms Weiss made a positive impact in this teenager's life by offering her encouragement, and were not just uncaring cogs in a damaged system that has filled them with too much cynicism. There aren't many sure things in this world, so sometimes it really means something to cheer on a fictional character trying to better themselves and/or potentially escape from the horrible set of cards they were dealt from life's stacked deck.
December 2, 2007
I encountered this when it was excerpted in the New Yorker around the time of its 1997 publication, when I was a senior in high school. Reading the New Yorker piece effectively shattered my skull, bludgeoning my brain into a tenderized and confused lump of quaking grey gristle.
Push is written in the voice of an impoverished, illiterate, uncared for, despised, abused, obese, neglected, friendless, and seriously fucked teenage black girl living in 1980s Harlem -- ground zero, at that time, of racialized poverty, the crack epidemic, AIDS, and pretty much every other attendant inner-city nightmare you can think of. The main character's voice is so violently affecting that I lack adequate words to describe what reading this was like for me. For several days afterwards, I thought of it constantly -- I mean constantly, from when I woke up in the morning until I went to bed at night, and nearly every moment in between. Sapphire's writing gave me the uniquely visceral experience of having left my own life and consciousness to inhabit the body and mind of an individual whose experiences -- polar opposite of my own -- strained the limits of imaginable human suffering. I have never read anything else in my entire life that so completely and effectively forced my mind into occupying that of a fictional character, let alone one so completely different from me in every single respect, save gender and nationality. I felt, while reading this, that I lost all critical sense of distance and observation, and actually in a very significant way became the character Precious. And this experience of becoming her was so horrific and terrifying that I likely experienced symptoms of what mental health providers refer to as "vicarious trauma" -- the result of bearing witness to another person's experience of intensely traumatic events.
Okay, okay, so you get it already: this book had a huge impact on me. So why only four stars?
The novel was unable to sustain the intensity of the shorter New Yorker piece, and had several significant flaws. For one thing, Push seemed to me at the time to suffer from what is known as "Jude-the-Obscure Syndrome," i.e., the ceaseless litany of Precious's sufferings started to seem almost ridiculous after awhile: she's not just raped by her dad, she's also raped by her mom; of course Precious gets AIDS -- and so does her baby.... on and on and on. I haven't reread this since it came out -- mostly because I'm scared it wouldn't be so amazing as I remember -- but I'm curious if I'd respond differently to this after working for several years in social services, now that I've seen for myself that in fact -- who knew?! -- some people's lives really are exactly this bad....
The other problem with this book is that it displays several diagnostic criteria for "Social Novel Disorder," which is to say, the power of the narrative is undermined by a sense of the author's (understandable) agenda, and of a rather artificial plot trajectory in which Precious encounters a Sapphire-like (it seemed to me at the time) social worker and thereby begins her healing and empowerment, learning in the process to read and to surrender her misguided and intolerant homophobic views. Of course, I might appreciate this optimistic ending a lot more now than I did at 17, when it struck me as inorganic and corny.
I have to reread this novel, and I will soon. I'm very curious to see whether the writing still exerts the same power and force I remember, and also whether my own aging and experiences in the years since will have changed my response to what seemed like serious flaws on my first read.
Push is written in the voice of an impoverished, illiterate, uncared for, despised, abused, obese, neglected, friendless, and seriously fucked teenage black girl living in 1980s Harlem -- ground zero, at that time, of racialized poverty, the crack epidemic, AIDS, and pretty much every other attendant inner-city nightmare you can think of. The main character's voice is so violently affecting that I lack adequate words to describe what reading this was like for me. For several days afterwards, I thought of it constantly -- I mean constantly, from when I woke up in the morning until I went to bed at night, and nearly every moment in between. Sapphire's writing gave me the uniquely visceral experience of having left my own life and consciousness to inhabit the body and mind of an individual whose experiences -- polar opposite of my own -- strained the limits of imaginable human suffering. I have never read anything else in my entire life that so completely and effectively forced my mind into occupying that of a fictional character, let alone one so completely different from me in every single respect, save gender and nationality. I felt, while reading this, that I lost all critical sense of distance and observation, and actually in a very significant way became the character Precious. And this experience of becoming her was so horrific and terrifying that I likely experienced symptoms of what mental health providers refer to as "vicarious trauma" -- the result of bearing witness to another person's experience of intensely traumatic events.
Okay, okay, so you get it already: this book had a huge impact on me. So why only four stars?
The novel was unable to sustain the intensity of the shorter New Yorker piece, and had several significant flaws. For one thing, Push seemed to me at the time to suffer from what is known as "Jude-the-Obscure Syndrome," i.e., the ceaseless litany of Precious's sufferings started to seem almost ridiculous after awhile: she's not just raped by her dad, she's also raped by her mom; of course Precious gets AIDS -- and so does her baby.... on and on and on. I haven't reread this since it came out -- mostly because I'm scared it wouldn't be so amazing as I remember -- but I'm curious if I'd respond differently to this after working for several years in social services, now that I've seen for myself that in fact -- who knew?! -- some people's lives really are exactly this bad....
The other problem with this book is that it displays several diagnostic criteria for "Social Novel Disorder," which is to say, the power of the narrative is undermined by a sense of the author's (understandable) agenda, and of a rather artificial plot trajectory in which Precious encounters a Sapphire-like (it seemed to me at the time) social worker and thereby begins her healing and empowerment, learning in the process to read and to surrender her misguided and intolerant homophobic views. Of course, I might appreciate this optimistic ending a lot more now than I did at 17, when it struck me as inorganic and corny.
I have to reread this novel, and I will soon. I'm very curious to see whether the writing still exerts the same power and force I remember, and also whether my own aging and experiences in the years since will have changed my response to what seemed like serious flaws on my first read.
December 17, 2008
I honestly doubt I would have picked this novel up had it not been recommended to me or (as was the case) required as part of a class. While I enjoy "coming of age" stories and stories of overcoming hardship, the overarching themes and situations in this book are off-putting to say the least.
The professor made it very clear that the first chapter (~40 pages) was going to be very difficult to read for a number of reasons. Some students were put off by the spelling which was initially a little strange, but I have fun with "dialect" books with similar spelling or grammar issues, so this didn't bother me much. The vulgarity was definitely over the top and very harsh...it did make me cringe a bit, but I pushed through it.
What was the hardest for me, and likely for most readers, was the absolute raw and brutal honesty with which the abuse was treated in this novel. Since it's presented in the synopsis and the first few pages, I don't consider it a spoiler to tell you that this is the story of a teenage girl (ironically named "Precious") who has been raped by her father for the majority of her life (seriously...the 'majority' being since toddler-hood). She is now giving birth to her second child/sibling by her father. Her mother is physically, verbally and emotionally abusive as well. They live in a welfare situation where Precious is essentially a slave to her mother's whims.
The first chapter (and additional passages scattered throughout the book) are graphic, raw, and absolutely stunning. I came away from the reading disgusted at 'humanity.'
The writing style is in first person and thus is very closely tied to the main character. The language used is poetically and articulately placed on the page in such a way to make Precious a very vivid character who is very real. Despite her difficulties with language (despite starting the novel in 9th grade with passing grades, she is completely illiterate and likely hasn't learned anything in school ever), the text portrays her emotions and motivations beautifully. The descriptions of the world around her are striking and vivid as well.
This is very much NOT a book for children. The themes involved could be very eye-opening for teenagers, but because of their presentation and the vulgarity and graphic themes, I would not recommend this to young teens...and not even to older teens unless I felt they were sufficiently mature.
Honestly, I have a hard time even recommending this to most adults. There are some that I could confidently recommend it to (social workers, secondary education teachers, etc.). However, to the general population, I would be very nervous to recommend this book because it is so blunt and raw. At the same time, I can't "not" recommend it...or rather, if somebody (with adequate maturity/sensitivities) picked up the book and asked if it was worth reading, my answer is YES.
This is a hard book to get through due to emotional and moral sensitivities. However, it raises some excellent 'action points' to the reader to think about the state of "humanity" and the "system" (welfare, schools, etc).
It's not something I'll read again and again...but it's something that I'll think about for a long time.
****
4 stars
The professor made it very clear that the first chapter (~40 pages) was going to be very difficult to read for a number of reasons. Some students were put off by the spelling which was initially a little strange, but I have fun with "dialect" books with similar spelling or grammar issues, so this didn't bother me much. The vulgarity was definitely over the top and very harsh...it did make me cringe a bit, but I pushed through it.
What was the hardest for me, and likely for most readers, was the absolute raw and brutal honesty with which the abuse was treated in this novel. Since it's presented in the synopsis and the first few pages, I don't consider it a spoiler to tell you that this is the story of a teenage girl (ironically named "Precious") who has been raped by her father for the majority of her life (seriously...the 'majority' being since toddler-hood). She is now giving birth to her second child/sibling by her father. Her mother is physically, verbally and emotionally abusive as well. They live in a welfare situation where Precious is essentially a slave to her mother's whims.
The first chapter (and additional passages scattered throughout the book) are graphic, raw, and absolutely stunning. I came away from the reading disgusted at 'humanity.'
The writing style is in first person and thus is very closely tied to the main character. The language used is poetically and articulately placed on the page in such a way to make Precious a very vivid character who is very real. Despite her difficulties with language (despite starting the novel in 9th grade with passing grades, she is completely illiterate and likely hasn't learned anything in school ever), the text portrays her emotions and motivations beautifully. The descriptions of the world around her are striking and vivid as well.
This is very much NOT a book for children. The themes involved could be very eye-opening for teenagers, but because of their presentation and the vulgarity and graphic themes, I would not recommend this to young teens...and not even to older teens unless I felt they were sufficiently mature.
Honestly, I have a hard time even recommending this to most adults. There are some that I could confidently recommend it to (social workers, secondary education teachers, etc.). However, to the general population, I would be very nervous to recommend this book because it is so blunt and raw. At the same time, I can't "not" recommend it...or rather, if somebody (with adequate maturity/sensitivities) picked up the book and asked if it was worth reading, my answer is YES.
This is a hard book to get through due to emotional and moral sensitivities. However, it raises some excellent 'action points' to the reader to think about the state of "humanity" and the "system" (welfare, schools, etc).
It's not something I'll read again and again...but it's something that I'll think about for a long time.
****
4 stars
May 12, 2024
☆☆☆ (3 stars)
This book is a heavy read, especially if you're sensitive to stories of child abuse like I am. Precious's journey is heartbreakingly real, and it's hard not to feel for her. While I found the movie version too emotionally intense to watch again, reading the novel brought a different depth to the story.
If you can't feel a single tear reading this or watching the movie, it's a sign you might be missing something essential. While I personally preferred the film, I respect the author's attempt to capture Precious's voice through her writing.
Though Sapphire's style didn't entirely click with me, I appreciate the importance of her message. Despite our stylistic differences, I'd still give this book three stars for its raw portrayal of a difficult reality. It's a reminder that there are many others like Precious out there, and that realization weighs heavy on my heart.
I also want to point out that there were many reviews I read of people saying Precious act like she enjoyed being raped by her dad. Excuse my language, but be effing forreal. Like come on. It's kind of sad to read women who are writing that in their reviews, when women should know more than anyone else, that our bodies react to things that we have no control over. An orgasm is a natural bodies response to pleasure, it has nothing to do whether you actually enjoy it or not. It's the body's natural reaction.
The irony of ignorance while indulging in a book about a CHILD being abused by both her mother and father, physically and sexually.
Please be respectful and less ignorant.
This book is a heavy read, especially if you're sensitive to stories of child abuse like I am. Precious's journey is heartbreakingly real, and it's hard not to feel for her. While I found the movie version too emotionally intense to watch again, reading the novel brought a different depth to the story.
If you can't feel a single tear reading this or watching the movie, it's a sign you might be missing something essential. While I personally preferred the film, I respect the author's attempt to capture Precious's voice through her writing.
Though Sapphire's style didn't entirely click with me, I appreciate the importance of her message. Despite our stylistic differences, I'd still give this book three stars for its raw portrayal of a difficult reality. It's a reminder that there are many others like Precious out there, and that realization weighs heavy on my heart.
I also want to point out that there were many reviews I read of people saying Precious act like she enjoyed being raped by her dad. Excuse my language, but be effing forreal. Like come on. It's kind of sad to read women who are writing that in their reviews, when women should know more than anyone else, that our bodies react to things that we have no control over. An orgasm is a natural bodies response to pleasure, it has nothing to do whether you actually enjoy it or not. It's the body's natural reaction.
The irony of ignorance while indulging in a book about a CHILD being abused by both her mother and father, physically and sexually.
Please be respectful and less ignorant.
May 22, 2010
I love this book. I hate this book.
I'm a binge reader -- I can swallow whole a 900 page novel from Friday evening to Sunday afternoon. It took me 3 weeks to read this huge short book. I had to put it down when I felt how little Precious thought of herself. I had to put it down when her mother admits her role in her child's abuse. I had to put it down so I could think of ways to kill this fictional pitiful girl's fictional stepfather. He is, as the Sweet Potato Queens would call him, "A Blood Spud." All I know is I kept putting it down to bawl, to mourn the loss of every child who is born to monsters like Mary and that man. The fact that it is "just" fiction doesn't matter a lick. The reality base for this fiction is haunting and painful. I hope I am like Miz Rain to the kids who come into my classroom in that kind of pain.
I'm a binge reader -- I can swallow whole a 900 page novel from Friday evening to Sunday afternoon. It took me 3 weeks to read this huge short book. I had to put it down when I felt how little Precious thought of herself. I had to put it down when her mother admits her role in her child's abuse. I had to put it down so I could think of ways to kill this fictional pitiful girl's fictional stepfather. He is, as the Sweet Potato Queens would call him, "A Blood Spud." All I know is I kept putting it down to bawl, to mourn the loss of every child who is born to monsters like Mary and that man. The fact that it is "just" fiction doesn't matter a lick. The reality base for this fiction is haunting and painful. I hope I am like Miz Rain to the kids who come into my classroom in that kind of pain.
December 2, 2017
Διαβάζοντας το συγκλονιστικό αυτό αφήγημα της Sapphire (που οι δεκατέσσερις πρώτες λέξεις του είναι: «Όταν ήμουν δώδεκα, έμεινα στην ίδια τάξη, γιατί γέννησα μωρό απ’ τον πατέρα μου»), σκέφτεσαι ότι δεν μπορεί, δεν είναι δυνατόν να συμβαίνουν τέτοια πράγματα. Κι όμως, ενδόμυχα, ξέρεις ότι συμβαίνουν• ίσως, γιατί ανέφεραν τις προάλλες κάτι σχετικό στις ειδήσεις, ή γιατί είχες διαβάσει κάποτε κάτι αντίστοιχα τραγικό στην εφημερίδα• ίσως πάλι, γιατί από νωρίς έμαθες ότι από όλους τους ήρωες των παραμυθιών των παιδικών σου χρόνων, οι μόνοι που θ’ απαντήσεις μεγαλώνοντας είναι οι δράκοι• γιατί, τελικά, όσο υψηλή και να ‘ναι η σκέψη σου, ο δρόμος σου θα ναι πάντα γεμάτος θυμωμένους θεούς, Κύκλωπες και Λαιστρυγόνες• γιατί, αλίμονο, «όμορφος κόσμος ηθικός αγγελικά πλασμένος» είναι μόνο αυτός που είδε ο ποιητής αντικρύζοντας το φυσικό κάλλος μιας ιδανικής κόρης.
Στη ‘Μονάκριβη’ ιδανική κόρη δεν υπάρχει, ούτε, βέβαια, ιδανικές ανθρώπινες σχέσεις ή οικογένειες. Τίποτε (απολύτως) δεν εξιδανικεύεται. Αυτό που σου προσφέρει η Sapphire, δια στόματος της ηρωίδας της, Κλαρίς Πρέσιους Τζόουνς, είναι η σκληρή πραγματικότητα και μόνο. Ολόγυμνη, χωρίς ρετούς και περιττούς καλλωπισμούς, αφτιασίδωτη, όπως ακριβώς τη βιώνει στο πετσί της η ‘Μονάκριβη’: αυτή η υπέρβαρη, αναλφάβητη δεκαεξάχρονη Αφροαμερικάνα, που σε πρώτο πρόσωπο, με μια γλώσσα απλή, καθημερινή και σκληρή συνάμα, διηγείται την (τραγική) ζωή της στο Χάρλεμ, χωρίς μελοδραματισμούς [η τραγική ιστορία της Μονάκριβης είναι σπαραξικάρδια per se].
«Είμαι στα εφτά, εκείνος από πάνω μου κάθε νύχτα. Στην αρχή μπαίνει μόνο στο στόμα μου. Μετά παραπάνω, πολύ παραπάνω. Με συνουσιάζει. Λέει πως μπορώ να το πάρω. Κοίτα, ούτε καν που ματώνεις, τα παρθένα κορίτσια ματώνουν. Εσύ δεν είσαι παρθένα. Είμαι εφτά.»
Κακοποιημένη στο σώμα και την ψυχή από πατέρα, μητέρα και συμμαθητές, η ‘Μονάκριβη’ θα αποφασίσει να ζήσει μια κανούργια ζωή μέσα από ένα διαφορετικό σχολείο, όπου θα διδαχθεί (για πρώτη φορά σωστά) ανάγνωση και γραφή, προσδοκώντας να πάρει κάποτε το απολυτήριο του λυκείου, να σπουδάσει στο κολέγιο, και να διεκδικήσει ένα καλύτερο αύριο για κείνη και το παιδί της.
Στη ‘Μονάκριβη’ ιδανική κόρη δεν υπάρχει, ούτε, βέβαια, ιδανικές ανθρώπινες σχέσεις ή οικογένειες. Τίποτε (απολύτως) δεν εξιδανικεύεται. Αυτό που σου προσφέρει η Sapphire, δια στόματος της ηρωίδας της, Κλαρίς Πρέσιους Τζόουνς, είναι η σκληρή πραγματικότητα και μόνο. Ολόγυμνη, χωρίς ρετούς και περιττούς καλλωπισμούς, αφτιασίδωτη, όπως ακριβώς τη βιώνει στο πετσί της η ‘Μονάκριβη’: αυτή η υπέρβαρη, αναλφάβητη δεκαεξάχρονη Αφροαμερικάνα, που σε πρώτο πρόσωπο, με μια γλώσσα απλή, καθημερινή και σκληρή συνάμα, διηγείται την (τραγική) ζωή της στο Χάρλεμ, χωρίς μελοδραματισμούς [η τραγική ιστορία της Μονάκριβης είναι σπαραξικάρδια per se].
«Είμαι στα εφτά, εκείνος από πάνω μου κάθε νύχτα. Στην αρχή μπαίνει μόνο στο στόμα μου. Μετά παραπάνω, πολύ παραπάνω. Με συνουσιάζει. Λέει πως μπορώ να το πάρω. Κοίτα, ούτε καν που ματώνεις, τα παρθένα κορίτσια ματώνουν. Εσύ δεν είσαι παρθένα. Είμαι εφτά.»
Κακοποιημένη στο σώμα και την ψυχή από πατέρα, μητέρα και συμμαθητές, η ‘Μονάκριβη’ θα αποφασίσει να ζήσει μια κανούργια ζωή μέσα από ένα διαφορετικό σχολείο, όπου θα διδαχθεί (για πρώτη φορά σωστά) ανάγνωση και γραφή, προσδοκώντας να πάρει κάποτε το απολυτήριο του λυκείου, να σπουδάσει στο κολέγιο, και να διεκδικήσει ένα καλύτερο αύριο για κείνη και το παιδί της.
March 15, 2009
Poignant and unapologetically raw. Precious' ability to keep fighting against such dire odds both amazed and inspired me. This is a story I will never forget, and I truly look forward to the film adaptation.
Read
October 18, 2020This is an important novel, though it lacks many of the pretensions that would convince us so.
Push, now known as the book that inspired last year's much-renowned hit film Precious, is the first-person account of the teenage life of Claireece Precious Jones, a Harlem teenager who as of writing this account has given birth to two children, a boy and a girl, both products of her rape at the hands of her biological father. In terms of Push's social narrative, it only goes downhill from there: Precious is further abused (sexually and otherwise) by her mother, and furthermore by "the system" -- some gross intersection of the Welfare State, the policies of social workers, and the American education system. Precious enrolls in an alternative school, and the lessons she learns there about language, learning and self-expression are what, ultimately, change her life.
Context, here, is very important. Sapphire, the novel's author, published the novel in the mid-90s but chose as its setting the late 80s. The AIDS crisis, characterized as it was by a demonization of queer people, poor people and people of color, was booming in American media. As well, Ronald Reagan had by then already inserted the "Welfare Queen" into the cultural lexicon. Indeed, for most of the period during which Push takes place, Ronald Reagan is president.
Precious is (or would be, if not for circumstances that I won't reveal here) a welfare beneficiary. She has HIV. She lives in a halfway house. If we're thinking in terms of social commentary, certainly Sapphire has a point to make, here.
But that's not what makes this an important novel. In its own quiet way, Push manages to say as much about literary history and form (and especially African American literary history and form) as it does about the troubling social circumstances that constitute the world -- that is, our world -- in which girls like Precious live. Yet it does so without mapping those literary conceits onto its characters in a way that might invalidate the the truth of those experiences. This is a novel whose language emanates outward from its subject, rather than mapping language onto that subject for the sake of the reader's understanding. Precious's tendency to compare her mind and the images and memories therein to a television set, for example, and her illustrations of what she sees and watches in her mind might lend themselves to the easy categorizations of consumerism and thus postmodernism, and yet the novel isn't really concerned with being about literature or form in that way.
The narrative feels almost disappointingly incomplete, in fact -- there is no true sense of resolution here, no sense of climactic feeling for the reader -- precisely because making a cogent "narrative" of Precious's life would bring awareness to narrative as a literary conceit largely built for readers and not the subjects therein. Sapphire never allows her book to distract from the fact that Precious's account isn't really for the "reader," but for the girl herself. Precious comes alive, in that way. The book is repetitive, even monotonous at times; its images and references are limited because Precious is limited. She doesn't tell us everything -- doesn't give all the dirty details, in a way that may prove frustrating. But a reader-friendly narrative in this context would seem almost perverse. In a novel that is largely concerned with the consequences of social perversion, we might bid the author thanks for resisting the urge to make perverse voyeurs of the novel's readers.
One of the biggest supporters of the film adaptation of this novel was none other than Barbara Bush, who was moved by the film's (and thus the novel's) emphasis on literacy as a way of engendering social freedom. She's onto something, though this is naive. In a sense, Push is about what novels by black American authors have always been about: language, representation, freedom. Consider the ways by which black Americans became English-language literate, in American history. Consider the time, the need, the circumstances. Is it any wonder, then, that Sapphire chooses literacy as the site of her social commentary?
An excellent novel.
Push, now known as the book that inspired last year's much-renowned hit film Precious, is the first-person account of the teenage life of Claireece Precious Jones, a Harlem teenager who as of writing this account has given birth to two children, a boy and a girl, both products of her rape at the hands of her biological father. In terms of Push's social narrative, it only goes downhill from there: Precious is further abused (sexually and otherwise) by her mother, and furthermore by "the system" -- some gross intersection of the Welfare State, the policies of social workers, and the American education system. Precious enrolls in an alternative school, and the lessons she learns there about language, learning and self-expression are what, ultimately, change her life.
Context, here, is very important. Sapphire, the novel's author, published the novel in the mid-90s but chose as its setting the late 80s. The AIDS crisis, characterized as it was by a demonization of queer people, poor people and people of color, was booming in American media. As well, Ronald Reagan had by then already inserted the "Welfare Queen" into the cultural lexicon. Indeed, for most of the period during which Push takes place, Ronald Reagan is president.
Precious is (or would be, if not for circumstances that I won't reveal here) a welfare beneficiary. She has HIV. She lives in a halfway house. If we're thinking in terms of social commentary, certainly Sapphire has a point to make, here.
But that's not what makes this an important novel. In its own quiet way, Push manages to say as much about literary history and form (and especially African American literary history and form) as it does about the troubling social circumstances that constitute the world -- that is, our world -- in which girls like Precious live. Yet it does so without mapping those literary conceits onto its characters in a way that might invalidate the the truth of those experiences. This is a novel whose language emanates outward from its subject, rather than mapping language onto that subject for the sake of the reader's understanding. Precious's tendency to compare her mind and the images and memories therein to a television set, for example, and her illustrations of what she sees and watches in her mind might lend themselves to the easy categorizations of consumerism and thus postmodernism, and yet the novel isn't really concerned with being about literature or form in that way.
The narrative feels almost disappointingly incomplete, in fact -- there is no true sense of resolution here, no sense of climactic feeling for the reader -- precisely because making a cogent "narrative" of Precious's life would bring awareness to narrative as a literary conceit largely built for readers and not the subjects therein. Sapphire never allows her book to distract from the fact that Precious's account isn't really for the "reader," but for the girl herself. Precious comes alive, in that way. The book is repetitive, even monotonous at times; its images and references are limited because Precious is limited. She doesn't tell us everything -- doesn't give all the dirty details, in a way that may prove frustrating. But a reader-friendly narrative in this context would seem almost perverse. In a novel that is largely concerned with the consequences of social perversion, we might bid the author thanks for resisting the urge to make perverse voyeurs of the novel's readers.
One of the biggest supporters of the film adaptation of this novel was none other than Barbara Bush, who was moved by the film's (and thus the novel's) emphasis on literacy as a way of engendering social freedom. She's onto something, though this is naive. In a sense, Push is about what novels by black American authors have always been about: language, representation, freedom. Consider the ways by which black Americans became English-language literate, in American history. Consider the time, the need, the circumstances. Is it any wonder, then, that Sapphire chooses literacy as the site of her social commentary?
An excellent novel.
January 6, 2010
This is one of those books that's so real (hell, I taught a kid like this at an alternative school in Chicago) it'll never get into a high school curriculum. It's that good, that authentic, that "dangerous". I avoid the hype around vogue books and authors, but this one delivered the goods.
The language is definitely vulgar, violent and hyper-sexual, but the voice...my goodness! I'd never compare a book to "Adventures of Huckleberry Finn", but it is ironic that Sapphire mentions Twain's great book because the use of voice "Push"/"Precious" is incredible. Generally you'll see an author establish a voice for their protaganist very early and then you'll hear it fade away, maybe arise later in the action. But like Huck, Precious Jones never loses what makes her Precious - opinionated, insecure, thoughtful, unapologetic and curious, and growing...always growing. Maybe she's more like Huck than I thought.
I actually listened to this book through iTunes and the narrator was the best I've ever encountered in a fiction book-on-CD. I highly recommend experiencing "Precious" this way.
The language is definitely vulgar, violent and hyper-sexual, but the voice...my goodness! I'd never compare a book to "Adventures of Huckleberry Finn", but it is ironic that Sapphire mentions Twain's great book because the use of voice "Push"/"Precious" is incredible. Generally you'll see an author establish a voice for their protaganist very early and then you'll hear it fade away, maybe arise later in the action. But like Huck, Precious Jones never loses what makes her Precious - opinionated, insecure, thoughtful, unapologetic and curious, and growing...always growing. Maybe she's more like Huck than I thought.
I actually listened to this book through iTunes and the narrator was the best I've ever encountered in a fiction book-on-CD. I highly recommend experiencing "Precious" this way.
February 21, 2010
Beautiful and devastating. I don't mind monsters, rotting corpses or exploding heads, but this book proves my theory that no fictional horror can ever top the horrible things human beings do to each other in real life. The narrator, Precious, is abused in unspeakable ways by her parents, but she is also the smartest, funniest, most insightful and vibrant voice I've read in a very long time. In spite of being violated, she manages to soar above it all, telling it like it is and demonstrating just how powerful a person can be when she educates herself and makes peace with her demons. Also, her story shows just how much positive influence a good teacher and the sharing of the written word, can have.
December 10, 2009
The story is a typical ghetto tragedy of a young uneducated girl who's raped by her father and severely abused (also raped) by her mother. She ends up having two children by her dad, one of which who has Downs Syndrome. She also sadly ends up contacting the HIV virus from him as well.
I feel the author took the easy way out in making the book too shockingly vulgar, which is the only thing I felt held this novel together. The writer definitely tried too hard in that aspect of the story, and I wasn't really impressed by it. It's a shame the Philadelphia Inquire proclaimed this book may find a place in the African-American literary canon. If that's true, What does this say about African-American literature? not very much.
This story-line has been done so many times in literature and especially in film.
I think people are more like 'oooh this book is so good because her father rapes her and she says she likes it'. I myself am not so easily convinced.
Also Precious Jones' ignorant talk sounded more like bad ghetto Yorkshire than a girl who is simply ignorant and uneducated. Just because she couldn't read or write doesn't mean she shouldn't be able to speak. I knew people who grew up in bad situations who couldn't read or write, they spoke fine. The writer makes her talk like she's been living in a basement for 16 years.
One thing I did like about the story is how the teacher had each of girls create a private journal as a way for them to communicate back and forth and express themselves about difficult issues they weren't comfortable talking about face to face with their teacher or counselors/social workers. The journals provided the girls with a sense of anonymity they needed in order to talk about the horrendous things they had to endure in their day to day home life.
I would love to enjoy a good piece of urban literature, but this was so far from it.
I feel the author took the easy way out in making the book too shockingly vulgar, which is the only thing I felt held this novel together. The writer definitely tried too hard in that aspect of the story, and I wasn't really impressed by it. It's a shame the Philadelphia Inquire proclaimed this book may find a place in the African-American literary canon. If that's true, What does this say about African-American literature? not very much.
This story-line has been done so many times in literature and especially in film.
I think people are more like 'oooh this book is so good because her father rapes her and she says she likes it'. I myself am not so easily convinced.
Also Precious Jones' ignorant talk sounded more like bad ghetto Yorkshire than a girl who is simply ignorant and uneducated. Just because she couldn't read or write doesn't mean she shouldn't be able to speak. I knew people who grew up in bad situations who couldn't read or write, they spoke fine. The writer makes her talk like she's been living in a basement for 16 years.
One thing I did like about the story is how the teacher had each of girls create a private journal as a way for them to communicate back and forth and express themselves about difficult issues they weren't comfortable talking about face to face with their teacher or counselors/social workers. The journals provided the girls with a sense of anonymity they needed in order to talk about the horrendous things they had to endure in their day to day home life.
I would love to enjoy a good piece of urban literature, but this was so far from it.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
August 21, 2016
Holy hell this book hits you straight in the guts right from the beginning and doesn't let up. Raw and powerful the writing style gives it an authenticity that gets to you, although it got slightly on my nerves after awhile. You immediately feel sorry for this poor girl. The abuse...too much at times, ugly awful. So glad there is a a silver lining at the end of all this with a glimmer of hope to hang onto
August 17, 2021
Loved this story!
I read this book years ago when it first came out and as a teenager I didn't really appreciate the importance of this story. Even seeing the movie didn't change my outlook. But now, as a mature adult retreading this novel created a whole new experience. The grit included in this story is enough to bring tears to any eye.
I must watch the movie again...
I read this book years ago when it first came out and as a teenager I didn't really appreciate the importance of this story. Even seeing the movie didn't change my outlook. But now, as a mature adult retreading this novel created a whole new experience. The grit included in this story is enough to bring tears to any eye.
I must watch the movie again...
October 10, 2022
This is a heavy book. How a 16 year old developed and deals with some of the hardest things that any one adult could face. She triumph , she strut, she is a survivor. She is precious.
February 5, 2010
I feel fifty-fifty about the novel, PUSH. It tells an inspiring story about how reading and writing can save you from any situation you might encounter, no matter how tough. As an English teacher, I have to support that message! The characters, however, are not as well-developed as they could be. Sometimes while reading this book, I felt that Precious kept encountering more and more obstacles just so that the author, Sapphire, could play with readers' emotions. I also felt that she used curse words just because she wanted readers to feel stunned. I would recommend this book for the story, but I'm not completely sure about the delivery of that story.
November 23, 2019
Ουφ! Ακόμη να ανασάνω..
Θες να παλέψεις? Να βγεις από τον μικρόκοσμο του μυαλού σου?
Να, εδω,
Πάρε ένα μάθημα...
Αγνοείστε την ταινία. Διαβάστε το.
Θες να παλέψεις? Να βγεις από τον μικρόκοσμο του μυαλού σου?
Να, εδω,
Πάρε ένα μάθημα...
Αγνοείστε την ταινία. Διαβάστε το.
November 8, 2014
Precious is sixteen years old,illiterate and pregnant for the second time with her father`s child. She is beaten and sexually abused by both her parents and bullied at school. She believes she is ugly and worthless. Then she is placed in an alternative teaching programme, where she learns to read and write. This is a harrowing read but I admire the way the author, Sapphire, constructed her writing and really allowed Precious to shine. You will cheer Precious to the end as she learns to love herself and strive for a better life for herself and her children.
March 30, 2020
She say, “Was you ever, I mean did you ever get to be a chile?” Thas a stupid question, did I ever get to be a chile? I am a chile.
A bomb of a book. Read it.
A bomb of a book. Read it.
August 16, 2008
When I first read this book many years ago, I was initially drawn in by the raw and uncompromising story of a young girl whose life wasn't even remotely happy or positive. But when I overlaid my initial titillation and genuine curiosity with a more critical consideration of this book, I didn't think it was anything more than a bit of over-hyped sensationalism. There are writers who, with less obviousness and far more literary panache, can shock us just as deeply, but on that cerebral level that this book just doesn't seem able to touch. I'm thinking of The Bone People and Fall on Your Knees and Bastard Out of Carolina...all exceptionally good books (and in the case of The Bone People, a great book) that put forth painful stories with a quiet skill not even remotely achieved by this author.
May 1, 2019
Precious is phenomenal.
A must read.
A must read.
March 17, 2010
(Reprinted from the Chicago Center for Literature and Photography [cclapcenter.com:]. I am the original author of this essay, as well as the owner of CCLaP; it is not being reprinted illegally.)
Here in Chicago, the Uptown neighborhood where I live is still chock-full of lower-class black families, a situation that originally developed during the "ghettoization" of this neighborhood in the white-flight 1950s; and so among other things, this has led my neighborhood library to stock an entire wall of what they call "African-American Literature," an endless series of horribly bad melodramas that all seem to have covers featuring shirtless gangsters draped in gaudy gold jewelry, with titles like Dark Chocolate and Thug Daddy and with ashamed authors hiding behind such one-word pseudonyms as "Diamond" and "Tiger." And every time I spy this wall of books, I always think to myself, "Why would someone actually read trash like this?" Given how many challenges the average black person in America faces every day just from the mere act of existing, why would they then want to so profoundly reinforce the lazy stereotypes about their race by voluntarily reading such worthless, insulting potboilers? Who would do something like that?
I'm sure it's because of this that it took me so long to become aware of the remarkable 1996 novel Push by one-named author "Sapphire," although now of course just about everyone has heard of it; after all, it's the source material behind the film Precious, which this year racked up all kinds of awards including several Oscar nominations, and has inspired a growing amount of people to declare it the best movie about lower-class blacks ever made. And so it's ironic that the book should happen to be just about the diametric opposite of that "African-American Literature" I was talking about before, in fact more an angry response to those kinds of books than anything resembling them; because without the high-profile film adaptation the novel would've likely faded into obscurity, and ended up getting lumped in with all the other unreadable crap I see at my local library on a daily basis. It highlights a growing problem within the literary community in our Obamian "post-race" age, one that is rarely discussed among polite company -- that for some reason, it's seemingly okay for Caucasians to be offered a broad choice in themes and genres as far as their intellectual entertainment, but among all other races it's considered an unpardonable sin, not only among the white executives making the decisions but even the traditional community leaders within such racial groups. (Don't believe me? Just look at the shameful amount of scorn that black leaders have heaped on the comic strip The Boondocks by Aaron McGruder, merely for attempting to create something enjoyable for black people who happen to be cynical, over-educated and pop-culture savvy.)
Written by a performance poet during the cultural height of the poetry-slam format, the textually complex Push isn't as much the weepy tearjerker you might think it is, but surprisingly enough is actually more like the ghetto version of the 1966 science-fiction novel Flowers for Algernon. See, it's the story of a morbidly obese teenage girl named Precious, who has been dumped on by life in about the most thorough way possible -- raised by an abusive, alcoholic, mentally retarded mother, sexually abused for decades by her father, the teenaged mother of two children of incest, one of whom has Down's Syndrome, unable to read or write, and HIV-positive on top of everything else. But right at the beginning of the novel, Precious is enrolled in an alternative educational organization designed exactly for lumpen-proletariats like herself; and since the whole thing is written in a real-time first-person voice, we literally watch Precious through her diary entries progress from barely being able to communicate to eventually becoming a functioning member of society, just like Flowers for Algernon but without the experimental drug of the former.
This is where Sapphire's performance-poetry background really comes into play; because far from the illegible trainwreck you might think the beginning of such a book might be, she instead carefully combines Precious's broken English with a subconscious but very definite formal structure, to produce a haunting, rhythmic, utterly readable cadence, which much like Toni Morrison's Beloved uses the often derided dialect known as ebonics to instead turn in an unexpectedly powerful tale, a story that flows much more smoothly than you would ever think possible under such circumstances. And also like Flowers for Algernon, Sapphire uses this framework not just to explore language but as an inventive way to dole out story information as well; because as Precious slowly learns to better and better communicate, she simultaneously learns to better and better understand the world around her, resulting in a series of revelations she makes about life throughout the book, and a series of steps taken to make that life better.
In fact, this seems to be Sapphire's main message, which of course so many people seemingly don't get -- that education leads directly to self-understanding, and that self-understanding leads directly to power. And that's why Push is ultimately a positive story, although it practically radiates anger at the world off each page like steam rising from a microwaved burrito; because as Precious starts actually accomplishing things in her life, even little things like reading a letter by herself for the first time or writing her first poem, she comes to realize for the first time not only how destructive the people and circumstances around her have been (something she's always at least kind of understood), but that she also has the choice to walk away from it all if she wants, leading for example to some confrontational scenes with her mother near the end that are some of the most intense moments of the entire manuscript. Precious would've never been able to come to these conclusions, Sapphire seems to be arguing, without the basic education that has trained her mind to start thinking this way in the first place; and that's a great message to convey, I think, that the main point of education is not just some abstract concept like "Reading Is Good," but that it literally changes the way your brain works, so that you can more easily understand both yourself and the environment in which you live.
Now, yes, Push does end on a sour note -- an excruciating 40-page section that is supposed to represent the final class writings of the troubled teens we've been following, full of the exact kind of terrible poetry and weepy memoirs that the rest of this book is an antidote against -- but it's easy enough to just skip this entire section if you want, especially since it's laid out in an entirely different typeface. For the most part, though, I found Push to be a huge surprise, an imminently smarter and more entertaining story than I would ever expect from a project that's been embraced by the mainstream so whole-heartedly, and I'm looking highly forward now to checking out the movie version when it comes out on DVD, if for nothing else than to see how they possibly begin to deal with the overwhelming amount of inner-brain dialogue featured in the book version. It comes highly recommended.
Here in Chicago, the Uptown neighborhood where I live is still chock-full of lower-class black families, a situation that originally developed during the "ghettoization" of this neighborhood in the white-flight 1950s; and so among other things, this has led my neighborhood library to stock an entire wall of what they call "African-American Literature," an endless series of horribly bad melodramas that all seem to have covers featuring shirtless gangsters draped in gaudy gold jewelry, with titles like Dark Chocolate and Thug Daddy and with ashamed authors hiding behind such one-word pseudonyms as "Diamond" and "Tiger." And every time I spy this wall of books, I always think to myself, "Why would someone actually read trash like this?" Given how many challenges the average black person in America faces every day just from the mere act of existing, why would they then want to so profoundly reinforce the lazy stereotypes about their race by voluntarily reading such worthless, insulting potboilers? Who would do something like that?
I'm sure it's because of this that it took me so long to become aware of the remarkable 1996 novel Push by one-named author "Sapphire," although now of course just about everyone has heard of it; after all, it's the source material behind the film Precious, which this year racked up all kinds of awards including several Oscar nominations, and has inspired a growing amount of people to declare it the best movie about lower-class blacks ever made. And so it's ironic that the book should happen to be just about the diametric opposite of that "African-American Literature" I was talking about before, in fact more an angry response to those kinds of books than anything resembling them; because without the high-profile film adaptation the novel would've likely faded into obscurity, and ended up getting lumped in with all the other unreadable crap I see at my local library on a daily basis. It highlights a growing problem within the literary community in our Obamian "post-race" age, one that is rarely discussed among polite company -- that for some reason, it's seemingly okay for Caucasians to be offered a broad choice in themes and genres as far as their intellectual entertainment, but among all other races it's considered an unpardonable sin, not only among the white executives making the decisions but even the traditional community leaders within such racial groups. (Don't believe me? Just look at the shameful amount of scorn that black leaders have heaped on the comic strip The Boondocks by Aaron McGruder, merely for attempting to create something enjoyable for black people who happen to be cynical, over-educated and pop-culture savvy.)
Written by a performance poet during the cultural height of the poetry-slam format, the textually complex Push isn't as much the weepy tearjerker you might think it is, but surprisingly enough is actually more like the ghetto version of the 1966 science-fiction novel Flowers for Algernon. See, it's the story of a morbidly obese teenage girl named Precious, who has been dumped on by life in about the most thorough way possible -- raised by an abusive, alcoholic, mentally retarded mother, sexually abused for decades by her father, the teenaged mother of two children of incest, one of whom has Down's Syndrome, unable to read or write, and HIV-positive on top of everything else. But right at the beginning of the novel, Precious is enrolled in an alternative educational organization designed exactly for lumpen-proletariats like herself; and since the whole thing is written in a real-time first-person voice, we literally watch Precious through her diary entries progress from barely being able to communicate to eventually becoming a functioning member of society, just like Flowers for Algernon but without the experimental drug of the former.
This is where Sapphire's performance-poetry background really comes into play; because far from the illegible trainwreck you might think the beginning of such a book might be, she instead carefully combines Precious's broken English with a subconscious but very definite formal structure, to produce a haunting, rhythmic, utterly readable cadence, which much like Toni Morrison's Beloved uses the often derided dialect known as ebonics to instead turn in an unexpectedly powerful tale, a story that flows much more smoothly than you would ever think possible under such circumstances. And also like Flowers for Algernon, Sapphire uses this framework not just to explore language but as an inventive way to dole out story information as well; because as Precious slowly learns to better and better communicate, she simultaneously learns to better and better understand the world around her, resulting in a series of revelations she makes about life throughout the book, and a series of steps taken to make that life better.
In fact, this seems to be Sapphire's main message, which of course so many people seemingly don't get -- that education leads directly to self-understanding, and that self-understanding leads directly to power. And that's why Push is ultimately a positive story, although it practically radiates anger at the world off each page like steam rising from a microwaved burrito; because as Precious starts actually accomplishing things in her life, even little things like reading a letter by herself for the first time or writing her first poem, she comes to realize for the first time not only how destructive the people and circumstances around her have been (something she's always at least kind of understood), but that she also has the choice to walk away from it all if she wants, leading for example to some confrontational scenes with her mother near the end that are some of the most intense moments of the entire manuscript. Precious would've never been able to come to these conclusions, Sapphire seems to be arguing, without the basic education that has trained her mind to start thinking this way in the first place; and that's a great message to convey, I think, that the main point of education is not just some abstract concept like "Reading Is Good," but that it literally changes the way your brain works, so that you can more easily understand both yourself and the environment in which you live.
Now, yes, Push does end on a sour note -- an excruciating 40-page section that is supposed to represent the final class writings of the troubled teens we've been following, full of the exact kind of terrible poetry and weepy memoirs that the rest of this book is an antidote against -- but it's easy enough to just skip this entire section if you want, especially since it's laid out in an entirely different typeface. For the most part, though, I found Push to be a huge surprise, an imminently smarter and more entertaining story than I would ever expect from a project that's been embraced by the mainstream so whole-heartedly, and I'm looking highly forward now to checking out the movie version when it comes out on DVD, if for nothing else than to see how they possibly begin to deal with the overwhelming amount of inner-brain dialogue featured in the book version. It comes highly recommended.
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