by ALISTAIR BOMPHRAY
Every year I’ve got a handful of students (girls mostly) who fight over the two or three copies of Sapphire’s Push in my classroom library. If you don’t know about Push—and, honestly, at this point, given the huge success of Precious, the Oscar nominated film version, this means either you’ve given up on American cinema entirely, or you just don’t care ‘cause it’s not in 3D—it’s basically the antithesis of that other fought-over bestseller and fountain of teenage readership, Twilight. Only in Push, the werewolves are real ones.
A brief recap for those not in the know: Push is the story of Precious, an overweight and friendless teenage girl growing up in 1980’s Harlem. She lives in poverty with her physically and emotionally abusive mother, and is pregnant with her second child, both by her father. If that weren’t enough, she’s also illiterate. It’s this journey to literacy, and eventually, to reclaiming her life, that makes up the central arc of the narrative. After getting kicked out of her public school for being pregnant (and two grades behind already), she enrolls in a GED program called “Each One Teach One.” It’s here, mercifully, where she meets Blue Rain (whether this is her real name or hippie alter ego is never revealed), a teacher who sees through to the essential goodness of Precious, and who uses journal writing as a means to building literacy from the ground up. Predictable, sure, but by this point in the story, you’re desperate for something good to happen to this girl. It’s these scenes that are supposed to give the book, despite its punishingly bleak subject matter, an overall message of hope.
With regards to my students reading this book, my position until very recently has been, “Yeah—I know it has some explicit subject matter, but, hey, at least they’re reading, right?” Occasionally, I would open the book, read a couple of pages, and think, “Damn—this is hard core,” a description that seems even more appropriate in light of one critic’s dismissal of the movie as “poverty porn.”
But when the movie opened to rave reviews back in October, I decided after five years’ worth of students (many of them my lowest readers) lovin’ this book, it was my duty to read it myself. And so I did, with open mind. After all, any book that provokes unmitigated excitement amongst teenage readers year after year and is readily found in most high school libraries can’t be all bad, right?
It is, to say the least, a gripping read—for the first hundred pages or so. Unfortunately, it gets bogged down in the second half by some forgettable prose and uninspired storytelling. This could be dismissed as a matter of aesthetics and therefore not relevant to a conversation about whether high school students should read the book, if not for the timing of this drop-off in readability. The book loses its mojo precisely when there’s no more to learn about Precious’ shocking predicament. In other words, it’s the horror of Precious’ life that draws the reader in. Our eyes widen as her jealous mother beats her at nine months’ pregnant. “Oh my god,” we gasp as we are treated to a vivid description of her father raping her as a baby.
This, you see, is the book’s true soul. Damningly, it doesn’t lie in the redemptive second half of the book (I could barely make it through). It lies in the horror. Like some sensationalist television show about animal attacks or baby-faced child molesters, its power lies in its ability to shock.
And the bad stuff in this book is, like, really bad. Some of the most brutal stuff this side of, oh, I don’t know, Lars Von Trier, or, to dumb it down a bit, the Saw franchise. Only this is for real. Make no mistake, Precious is out there. Odds are she goes to your school. And more than a few of those teenage readers are drawn to this book because they, too, are victims of sexual abuse.
Mostly, I’m suspicious of Sapphire’s gratuitously specific handling of the material. It’s just too much of a trick for my comfort. Even so, when one of my struggling readers comes to me and says, “I want to read Push,” I don’t know if I could tell her no.
To add another dimension to this conversation, the book is written in 1st person from Precious’ perspective, which means, interestingly, that it’s not written in Standard English. From a critical perspective, this is what gives the book its pop; Precious’ voice is funny, and honest, and bursts with unexpected poetry. From an educational perspective, it poses some intriguing questions about the book’s appropriateness for English Language Learners (into which category I’m placing all students who aren’t fluent in Standard English). Here’s the opening of the first chapter:
I was left back when I was twelve because I had a baby for my fahver. That was in 1983. I was out of school for a year. This gonna be my second baby. My daughter got Down Sinder. She’s retarded. I had got left back in the second grade too, when I was seven, ’cause I couldn’t read (and I still peed on myself). I should be in the eleventh grade, getting ready to go into the twelf’ grade so I can gone ‘n graduate. But I’m not. I’m in the ninfe grade.
I got suspended from school ’cause I’m pregnant which I don’t think is fair. I ain’ did nothin’!
My name is Claireece Precious Jones. I don’t know why I’m telling you that. Guess ’cause I don’t know how far I’m gonna go with this story, or whether it’s even a story or why I’m talkin’; whether I’m gonna start from the beginning or right from here or two weeks from now. Two weeks from now? Sure you can do anything when you talking or writing, it’s not like living when you can only do what you doing. Some people tell a story ‘n it don’t make no sense or be true. But I’m gonna try to make sense and tell the truth, else what’s the fucking use? Ain’ enough lies and shit out there already?
As experienced readers and fluent speakers of Standard English, we read this and easily identify the places where the grammar/spelling is wrong and/or dialectal. I wonder, then, what is the experience of an English Language Learner? To what extent do they understand that they are not reading Standard English? Are confusions being reinforced (or, even worse, acquired)? Should we care about this? Or does this book, through the heroine’s own journey to literacy, empower the emerging reader/writer?
Honestly, this is a little bit out of my league. I’m hoping there are some ELL teachers out there who can pipe in here…
I will say that the movie is a lot better than the book. It handles the sexual violence in a tasteful, yet still real way. It has valid and important things to say about the Preciouses out there, hiding in the backs of American classrooms from sea to shining sea. And the second half doesn’t suck.
This doesn’t mean it has been immune from its own controversies. It’s not often that you can find not one, but three different articles in the NY Times about the same movie: To Blacks, Precious is ‘Demeaned or ‘Angelic’; The Audacity of ‘Precious’; The Debate Over ‘Precious’.
So what do you all think? What are your experiences with Push in the classroom? Should high school students read it?
Alistair teaches English and Journalism in Hayward, CA.
I read the first few pages of this book, read the summaries, and predicted the rest. Then I saw the movie, and my prediction was accurate. There was good acting, but neither the story didn’t have substance.
“The book loses its mojo precisely when there’s no more to learn about Precious’ shocking predicament. ”
I agree….there could have been to it…
I am not a high school teacher nor an ELL specialist, but having worked with victims of domestic violence, having heard stories from my victim’s advocate friend, and having many years of experience working with oppressed communities, I would say students should be reading this book.
I think it’s obvious that the purpose of the read would not be for it’s exemplary writing or to teach classic novels. Girls (and boys) who are experiencing what this character does in the story need to read this book for THEIR SURVIVAL.
Child survivors of incest, rape, etc. who have not had proper counseling, therapy, and support are probably going to be acting out in some form. They may not be focused on school and, therefore, not the highest achieving. This is the kind of book that might bring them back into school by letting them see that people do survive. They write. They tell their stories.
I think this needs to be a book that is read in a guided structured way, with the support of a caring adult who can manage the emotions and fall out that will definitely emerge. I think students just reading the book “for pleasure” – for the sensationalism, is not appropriate. It’s a hard thing to manage since you don’t really know in advance who the book will speak to.
I have not read the book but have heard that it has been a life-saver for many. I think that is reason enough to acknowledge its value.
For the record, I loved the film for various reasons: How often do we see a film with a large dark-skinned black girl as the main character who is triumphant? And her triumph is authentic and profound– she takes back her life.
I also thought that the way the abuser was portrayed in the film allowed for a much more complex multi-dimensional portrayal — not sensationalistic at all. Almost the way Toni Morrison or Maya Angelou have painted the abusers in their stories… not sure that this happend in, “Push,” but I don’t think it matters.
Thanks, Jill. Yeah—I agree with you. Victims of abuse need a book that speaks to the complicated range of emotions that such abuse provokes. Especially a book that is accessible to all readers. I don’t know if I’m totally sold on “Push” being that book, but I do think the movie succeeds where the book falls short.
A very intelligent and postive review of the book:
http://www.blogher.com/sapphires-push-merciless-honesty
Alistair, one more thought on this subject… Toni Morrison and Maya Angelou both write about sexual abuse- Angelou definitely writes about her own experience (I believe Morrison’s is fiction). Both write in a way that is deep and descriptive to the point of being beautiful. The difference with “Push” is that it is written by a young uneducated woman and, in many cases, that will make all the difference for students who are checking out of school due to their own home life experiences. Thanks for the link… will check it out.
I think the question is more accurately, should teachers encourage students to read Push by carrying it in their classroom libraries? To that question, I would lean a toward no. While I think it is a book that does shed some light on the issue of domestic violence toward women, the light seems to be a little distorted.
Without the guidance of a teacher who is willing to help students understand the book within the context of women’s stories, feminist literature, and the African American culture, I am afraid that the book perpetuates internalized racism and stereotypes for black students and fits hook line and sinker into media images of black males in particular.
On the other hand, I loved the movie. I think it was shot beautifully, and played up universal messages of strength, courage and finding oneself. I’d love to see a teacher tackle a comparison/contrast of the movie and book.
You’re right—that is the better question. And I’m with you on leaning towards no, but at the same there are only a few books out there that my students consistently ask to read. This is one of them. I wish it came with an educator’s guide or something, maybe a list of supplemental articles to read in tandem with the book, or some journal prompts to focus the student reader’s experience of the book. I guess that’s my job to come up with this sort of thing, but, you know, when only 3 of my 120 students are reading the book, it’s tough to carve out the time.
I haven’t read the book, but I’ve heard this same question come up about other books. My feeling is, once a kid reaches a certain age (maybe around 15), they should be able to read anything they want to read. I don’t particularly like the dysfunctional family novel myself, but dysfunctional families are everywhere and that’s why there are so many novels about them. There are also a lot of horrible books about war. Sometimes the world is not a pretty place.
If someone asks you if they should read it, you could describe what is in it, and tell them it could be hard to read. Then, if they want to read it–let them! And I’m curious, since I haven’t read the book–did you find the ending at all redemptive?
Thanks for the response, Ruth. And I agree with you—students of a certain age should be able to read what they want. However, if they’re reading it as classwork (i.e., for credit), I feel obligated to exert some control over what they’re reading. I have students who want to read books like “Pleasure” by Eric Jerome Dickey (which is basically porno—when I open to 3 random pages and every time it’s a sex scene I feel justified in making this assumption) and I have to tell them no. With “Push,” I’m more conflicted, not because I think it’s pornographic, but because my gut feeling is that a student reading that book needs more teacher guidance than I’m able to give during independent reading (I don’t know—maybe it’s bad that I even call it this if I’m not prepared for them to be fully independent).
As for the ending, yes, it is redemptive. The problem for me is that the writing takes a nosedive, which makes me wonder about the author’s intent. The writing about Precious’ nightmarish childhood is much more powerful and persuasive than the redemptive ending.
You make a good point about it being for class credit. Just to add in the mix, though, for some of those kids the only things they will ever read are for class credit.
There is no reason why HS students should not read it- any competent teacher worth their pay should be able to effectively guide their students through it in an enlightening and thought provoking manner, raising valid issues and concerns well beyond the characters within the book. Isn’t that what literature does at is best; isn’t that what teachers do at their best?
Also worth viewing- Fish Tank, an independent and unsentimental British film (currently playing) about a fifteen year old girl growing up in the projects of England.
I think that Push is so many miles higher over the “Drag girls back to the Dark Ages” Twilight series, we should definitely be celebrating the fact that young women want to read it.
Here is an article I really enjoyed reading, taking to task some of the writers who criticize the movie “Precious”. The article argues that many of the people critizicing the movie and/or the book are essentially arguing that the oppression of women is an unfit subject for books by and about black people.
http://revcom.us/a/189/precious-en.html
It also links to a larger article/review of the movie. Some spoilers in both.
This was a really great read, thank you so much for taking time to put it together! Touched on some very good ideas. I’ll certainly be back soon
Why are most of these comments preaching without having read the book? This post is about reading the book in a high school setting. I found this post because I’m researching using this book in a high school setting. Obviously the author of this post did some research and had some well-founded theories to posit and invite discussion.
The discussion that followed is mostly dogmatic. Jill is adamant that people read it “FOR THEIR SURVIVAL,” but she’s never read it. Stan B. says NOTHING about the book, but he gives the useless, circular logic that a teacher should be able to teach it if they’re a teacher “worth their pay.”
Ruth, on the other hand, offers gratitude to the author, which I share. She admits not reading it, but asks insightful questions which help me in my research to gain more perspective about the original purpose. Great post, but why did it attract so many gadflies with unsupported opinions?
Merika- Actually, there are are quite a number of books I haven’t yet read- not that I say that with any sense of pride. Hopefully, I’ll have/make the time to read a few more of them before passing along- until then, I’ll just have to settle for having seen the movie on this one. And as the author of this post so correctly states- odds are she goes to your school….
I think we all know what happens when a certain group of people starts censoring/banning/burning books. Hell, I’d happily assign and review a book on Creationism just to further develop the needed critical thinking skills so necessary these days to identify and dissect fact from fiction- and then discuss what measures can be taken to address it. That is what a teacher worth their pay would do.