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A review by nickscoby
The Short and Tragic Life of Robert Peace: A Brilliant Young Man Who Left Newark for the Ivy League by Jeff Hobbs
5.0
Like The Godfather + Breaking Bad + Boyz N The Hood + some other narrative about 20somethings fresh out of college. And yet, so much more. As usual, I was a bit hesitant about reading this book because of the premise, i.e., black youth goes to the Ivy League and somehow ends up murdered in Newark. I presumed this would be a tale of a fish out of water who succumbs to his own doubts and insecurities. And partly, that is the case. Rob "Shawn" Peace does face culture shock but he also triumphed at Yale, and Hobbs, the author, does a fantastic job of complicating Rob's story. Peace was brilliant, to be sure. And there are times when I wanted to hug him and others when I wanted to hit him in the throat for his stupidity.
And did I mention that this book is BEAUTIFULLY written. For example:
"These were the blocks they called home. They watched as properties--seven or eight in a block in the poorest stretches--first went dark in the windows, then were stapled with red-inked city housing forms, then grew waist-high weeds in the yard now surrounded by a chain-link fence, then had the windows smashed--by homeless people looking for shelter, or junkies looking for a place to shoot up, or looters scavenging pipes and appliances to sell for scrap--and then, in the final throes of this slow demise, had coffinlike boards replace the windows." Who writes like that, anymore??? Very F. Scott (especially the ending).
Kudos to Jeff Hobbs for walking a very delicate tightrope in terms of telling his friend's story while carefully acknowledging his own privilege . . . but his own post-college angst, as well. I want to say that this story should be made into a movie but only with a very smart director, like David Fincher. One of my favorites of 2014.
And did I mention that this book is BEAUTIFULLY written. For example:
"These were the blocks they called home. They watched as properties--seven or eight in a block in the poorest stretches--first went dark in the windows, then were stapled with red-inked city housing forms, then grew waist-high weeds in the yard now surrounded by a chain-link fence, then had the windows smashed--by homeless people looking for shelter, or junkies looking for a place to shoot up, or looters scavenging pipes and appliances to sell for scrap--and then, in the final throes of this slow demise, had coffinlike boards replace the windows." Who writes like that, anymore??? Very F. Scott (especially the ending).
Kudos to Jeff Hobbs for walking a very delicate tightrope in terms of telling his friend's story while carefully acknowledging his own privilege . . . but his own post-college angst, as well. I want to say that this story should be made into a movie but only with a very smart director, like David Fincher. One of my favorites of 2014.