Scan barcode
A review by princessrobotiv
The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas
5.0
I finished this book almost simultaneously with the movie trailer drop - literally, I closed the book and got online and the trailer was the first thing I saw. Talk about an emotional sucker punch. (Also a testament to how monstrously I've delayed finishing this review.)
But back to the book. It was damn good.
I expected nothing less. The reviews I'd seen were overwhelmingly positive, and the sheer amount of people reading it was impressive, to say the least. It was one of those titles that became so huge, you felt vaguely wrong for not having read it yet.
Truly, the hype was well-deserved. Because not only is The Hate U Give staggering in the importance of its sociopolitical commentary, it also boasts complex, intertwining narratives; a fully-realized protagonist on journey of self-discovery and self-actualization; and an intricate, messy, entirely joyous familial dynamic the likes of which I haven't seen represented in literal years.
The Hate U Give succeeds not because its plot is grounded in pressing sociopolitical issues but because of its characters. Every single character presented felt like a real person. They didn't exist just for the sake of furthering the plot (though they do, of course). These characters had weight, they had presence. The reader feels as though the characters are living in the world they inhabit, not merely being wheeled in like a cardboard cutout every time the author has need of them. They have their own histories, their own dramas, their own opinions about the events taking place. And almost every one of them was dynamic, experiencing some change in themselves or their circumstances by the end of the novel.
Part of the success of the character development stems from the attention paid to how these characters are related to one another: by blood, by community, by livelihoods, by ties to one gang or another. And many times, we see these connections crossing over each other in ways that create valuable tension. I seriously can't say enough about the level of detail and love given to the construction of the characters - and the neighborhood of Garden Heights as a whole.
The plot is likewise enriched by its characters. The issue of militarized police violence, particularly when it applies (as it very often does) to minority populations and especially to black Americans, is a seriously complicated subject. Not because there is a "right" or a "wrong" side of the debate (though if you squarely refuse to recognize an issue then, like, you are wrong, and also get fucked), but because it has so much history involved (legal, institutional, economic, sociological, etc. etc. etc.) AND such critical and immediate consequences.
The point is, it would have been incredibly easy for Thomas to stray into heavy didacticism with this novel, but she didn't. There were only a few times when conversations slipped from what I consider "natural" (the "black names vs white names" discussion with Chris, Starr, and DeVante comes to mind most readily). Other than that, she grounded her intensely political narrative into a fleshed-out cast of vivid characters. It was so well-balanced.
And man, it would have been so easy for Thomas to have presented a simplistic message against police violence (though no less accurate to reality). The character of Khalil could have been docile and respectful when the officer came to the car; he could have been mired in respectability politics when it came to his profession, or his sparkling record of community service, or his perfect school attendance, or top-of-his-class perfectionism; he could have never even heard of a gang and never touched a drug in his life. He could have been a literal child playing with a toy gun. And he still could have been killed, and the narrative would have still worked - because it reflects the disgusting reality of police violence in America.
But Thomas didn't choose to represent Khalil this way. She went messy; she went "gray." She presented a character who had made choices that were illegal and morally questionable. And the message is ultimately that it doesn't matter who you are or what you've done: being murdered by an agent of institutional power while unarmed, for no valid reason except racism, is wrong, and should be treated as wrong in a court of law.
So yeah, if you're like me and you still keep putting this one off - stop! Go read it. It's undoubtedly a modern classic.
But back to the book. It was damn good.
I expected nothing less. The reviews I'd seen were overwhelmingly positive, and the sheer amount of people reading it was impressive, to say the least. It was one of those titles that became so huge, you felt vaguely wrong for not having read it yet.
Truly, the hype was well-deserved. Because not only is The Hate U Give staggering in the importance of its sociopolitical commentary, it also boasts complex, intertwining narratives; a fully-realized protagonist on journey of self-discovery and self-actualization; and an intricate, messy, entirely joyous familial dynamic the likes of which I haven't seen represented in literal years.
The Hate U Give succeeds not because its plot is grounded in pressing sociopolitical issues but because of its characters. Every single character presented felt like a real person. They didn't exist just for the sake of furthering the plot (though they do, of course). These characters had weight, they had presence. The reader feels as though the characters are living in the world they inhabit, not merely being wheeled in like a cardboard cutout every time the author has need of them. They have their own histories, their own dramas, their own opinions about the events taking place. And almost every one of them was dynamic, experiencing some change in themselves or their circumstances by the end of the novel.
Part of the success of the character development stems from the attention paid to how these characters are related to one another: by blood, by community, by livelihoods, by ties to one gang or another. And many times, we see these connections crossing over each other in ways that create valuable tension. I seriously can't say enough about the level of detail and love given to the construction of the characters - and the neighborhood of Garden Heights as a whole.
The plot is likewise enriched by its characters. The issue of militarized police violence, particularly when it applies (as it very often does) to minority populations and especially to black Americans, is a seriously complicated subject. Not because there is a "right" or a "wrong" side of the debate (though if you squarely refuse to recognize an issue then, like, you are wrong, and also get fucked), but because it has so much history involved (legal, institutional, economic, sociological, etc. etc. etc.) AND such critical and immediate consequences.
The point is, it would have been incredibly easy for Thomas to stray into heavy didacticism with this novel, but she didn't. There were only a few times when conversations slipped from what I consider "natural" (the "black names vs white names" discussion with Chris, Starr, and DeVante comes to mind most readily). Other than that, she grounded her intensely political narrative into a fleshed-out cast of vivid characters. It was so well-balanced.
And man, it would have been so easy for Thomas to have presented a simplistic message against police violence (though no less accurate to reality). The character of Khalil could have been docile and respectful when the officer came to the car; he could have been mired in respectability politics when it came to his profession, or his sparkling record of community service, or his perfect school attendance, or top-of-his-class perfectionism; he could have never even heard of a gang and never touched a drug in his life. He could have been a literal child playing with a toy gun. And he still could have been killed, and the narrative would have still worked - because it reflects the disgusting reality of police violence in America.
But Thomas didn't choose to represent Khalil this way. She went messy; she went "gray." She presented a character who had made choices that were illegal and morally questionable. And the message is ultimately that it doesn't matter who you are or what you've done: being murdered by an agent of institutional power while unarmed, for no valid reason except racism, is wrong, and should be treated as wrong in a court of law.
So yeah, if you're like me and you still keep putting this one off - stop! Go read it. It's undoubtedly a modern classic.