Same Old Sad Song: The Hate U Give

At 464 pages, Angie Thomas's The Hate U Give (2017) is a surprisingly quick read for a text that deals with such a heavy and heated topic: the fatal shooting of an unarmed, black male at the hands of a white cop and the surviving witness who has to cope. "Tragically timely" (to quote Adam Silvera), the novel is another entry into what is unfortunately, in the lyrics of Smokey Norful, the "same old sad song."

Nearly twenty years ago, Jacqueline Woodson first tackled the same subject in her typically poetic and poignant style in the novel If You Come Softly (1998). It is a story of first love, an interracial one between fifteen-year-old Jeremiah and Ellie who meet at their private school. They have to deal with society's response to their relationship. In the end, this modern day Romeo and Juliet comes to an abrupt end when Jeremiah is fatally shot by police. Woodson continues these characters' story with Behind You (2004) which focuses on the impact of Jeremiah's death on those who loved him as they struggle to move on.

In between these two publications, Woodson also pens Hush (2002), a novel that showcases a grieving family living in the aftermath of a black cop's choice to break from "the blue wall of silence" after witnessing the wrongful shooting of an unarmed black teen at the hands of his white colleagues. While well-received--as is typical of many of Woodson's works--these novels did not garner as much word-of-mouth praise and conversation as The Hate U Give has generated--and very much deserves. Elements of  each of these three novels are reflected in The Hate U Give which I could not put down.

The main reason is the protagonist, herself, sixteen-year-old Starr Carter from whose first person viewpoint the story is related. Starr juggles two personas because she lives in two, vastly different worlds: one that is "hood" because she still lives in it and one that is "privileged" because she attends a fancy preparatory school and has a white boyfriend. She is forced to reconcile who she is in both worlds, however, when she witnesses the fatal shooting of her childhood best friend Khalil at the hands of a white police officer. What follows is a familiar story that treats some elements in unfamiliar ways.

Following the murder of Khalil, the media is used to vilify him as a criminal to justify his shooting; the shooting gains national attention; the accused cop, through a representative (in this case, his father), tells his side of the story through a nationally televised interview special; the same old line "I was scared for my life" is given as defense; the witness, too, follows up with her own nationalized special; the local and national community are divided; witness then gives testimony to the grand jury who later acquits the officer of criminal charges; the enraged local community riots in protest: These are the familiar aspects of the story.

What's unfamiliar is Thomas's portrayal of people whom outsiders would consider stereotypes and worthy of their disdain: Starr's father is a former gang banger with a conviction and a drug-addicted baby mama--in addition to his wife. Starr's mother was a teenage mom. Her immediate family lives in the projects and currently resides in "da hood" where Starr, as a ten-year-old, also witnessed the murder of another best friend due to a drive-by. By virtue of their environment and her dad's gang affiliation, her family regularly engages with those of "ill repute."

Despite these familiar tropes, however, Thomas portrays the people from Starr's community and her family with humanity and as survivors struggling--though working hard--to also achieve the "American Dream." While it is true that Starr's family has a non-nuclear structure, that fact isn't presented as a soap opera or source of dysfunction. In fact, Thomas showcases the "it takes a village" approach that had previously enabled black families to thrive in the U.S. and from which Starr and her siblings have greatly benefited. Yes, Starr does have an "unconventional" family structure, but Thomas reveals it to be loving, supportive, protective, and united--despite the many differences in lifestyle and mindset that exist within members of Starr's own family.

Perhaps it's these elements that make The Hate U Give such a successful debut. Through Starr's realistic, authentic voice, and a bevy of familiar and mostly likeable, relatable characters, Thomas presents a slice of growing up black in America. Despite many bleak elements, Thomas also infuses her story with humor and hope. The characters aren't fully stereotypes: they are complex and therefore flawed and realistically human. There's nothing particularly distinguishing or noteworthy about Angie Thomas's writing style other than her authentic voice, but she does effectively relate a compelling story about a shamefully pervasive American problem.

A CBR9 posted review.