Review of *Fist Stick Knife Gun*

I hate that I started reading Geoffrey Canada's Fist Stick Knife Gun, left it for a bit, then read The Zabime Sisters, and then returned to it. Both tell stories of young black people struggling with, while simultaneously embracing, cultures of violence. Having both books in my mind took me to some pretty dark places, but when I reminded myself that the texts had other things in common besides black-skinned people fighting for status, I felt more connected to the texts, but still equalling disgusted with myself and much of the social order of my fellow man.

Canada's novel is based on his actual upbringing, while the other is a work of fiction, and not a good one at that, but both do reveal, to me, anyway, that cultures of violence are very often associated with cultures of poverty, regardless of race. Certainly my own life is case-in-point. By the time I was 20, I had encounters with knives and guns, and I'd felt and delivered punches.

It's this connection, the one between poverty and violence, the one stemming from insecurity and the overwhelming stresses of not knowing when or how or for how long one's basic needs will be met, that Canada explores. He tells his own story, but helps us to recognize we need to multiply his own tensions by that of entire neighborhoods.

That being said, Canada strikes a sympathetic tone but not one of acquiescence. While explaining that the phenomenon is what it is, he does not accept that it has to be as it is or always will be.

As he grows from a small boy low on the pecking order until he proves he can fight to a young man seeing his Christian values wrestle with his need for safety on the streets while deciding to make the existential choice to carry a gun or not, Canada learns that some decisions are more powerful than others and that self-awareness often keys those decisions.

He says, "I knew that if I continued to carry the gun I would eventually pull the trigger." I've said similar things myself regarding my sometimes-intense anger: "The only reason I haven't shot anyone is because I don't have a gun." But how many people so focused on basic issues of safety and security have the time or inclination for self-reflection? An empty stomach, an anxious heart, and a always-already "fight or flight" consciousness does not make for an abundance of pacifist philosophers.

The graphic novel portion of the text ends with a call to action, symbolized by the teen Canada throwing away his gun, and in the prose pages that follow, Canada suggests that he remembers a time when there was no violence in his life, when he had to learn it.

I'm not sure I remain as optimistic as he does, though knowing his experience has been much tougher than my own but he remains more positive does give me cause to think better of the human condition. He asks us to take on poverty and to invest in poor neighborhoods. His thesis suggests that only when the anxieties of a life of poverty are removed will the perceived need for violence in poor neighborhood abate. In the meantime, while we do nothing to change the phenomenon, we should not expect the phenomenon to change. That, even if Canada might be seen as a dreamer, seems pretty sound logic to me.

** Fist Stick Knife Gun is a graphic novel version of a print novel by the same name. Jamar Nicholas adapted the story in the comics format, and Random House's catalogue "Language Arts and Social Studoes 2011" features commentary that teachers may find useful when integrating this text into the classroom, where it can certainly have some impact, especially if paired with a text like Yummy, which shows a young person in similar living situations making choices leading him to very different conclusions.

Review of _Yummy: The Last Days of a Southside Shorty_

Yummy: The Last Days of a Southside Shorty (September 2010, Lee & Low Books) details the short life of Robert “Yummy” Sandifer, an eleven year old gangbanger in Chicago’s Southside in 1994. Told through Roger, a fictional peer of Yummy’s acting as author G. Neri’s narrator, and excellently illustrated in expressionistic, streaky-when-necessary inks by Randy DuBurke, this graphic novel enrages and saddens.

Yummy, with felony after felony on his juvenile record (which, in 1994, meant he could not be tried as an adult), is seeking to impress his Black Disciple Nation gang bosses when he pulls a hit on a rival. He misses, however, killing a 14 year old girl in the process. His life as a reputed “tough shorty” on the rise comes to an end when fellow Black Disciples Derrick and Crag, 16 and 14 respectively, arrange his execution to get the heat off the gang’s collective back. As Neri explains it, Yummy becomes the poster child for all that is wrong with urban youth when the media, most notably, TIME, cover his story. Yummy the vile, the coldblooded killer, though, was also Yummy the abused, the neglected, the teddy bear-coddling, 60 pound child of drug addicts and prostitutes.

Yummy the victim; Yummy the victimizer: meet an 11 year old stone-cold killer and recoil when thinking about how he was one of hundreds of youngsters still doing the dirty work for America’s gangs. Wonder what it would take to offer these “shorties” a better alternative and gag yourself on the acidy realization that whatever that is, it might not ever be offered or accepted.

The novel leaves one with a burning rage to retroactively make things right in Roger’s world and a gnawing frustration that Yummy’s life and neighborhood might have been too far gone for even the smallest bit of help to have mattered. But, if that is the case, doesn’t it mean giving up hope for children who’ve already lived without it for their entire lives? The ethical tensions in this text do not easily resolve.

Yummy is a worthwhile read for all adolescents, with adult facilitation highly recommended. It may be especially poignant for those young people who have to make excruciating decisions at young ages regarding their safety and status in neighborhoods when it comes to gang life or the much less known and less comfortable something else.

It is not a fun read. But, perhaps it should be a required read. Expect to be angered and disturbed. Yummy grabs at your chest with barbed-wired fingernails and won’t let you go easily. The more you thrash, the more it has got you.

More info on Yummy: http://gregneri.com/yummy.html