Another book, another set of odd links that pop up at you when you least expect it. Yesterday I was talking about my discomfort at the repeated use of the word ‘mongol’ to describe a child with Down’s Syndrome in The Fifth Child, but in Push by Sapphire the use of ‘mongo’ to describe a similarly afflicted little girl has a quite different affect.

Push is the novel that forms the basis for the acclaimed new film Precious (trailer here), which has been nominated for several Oscars, including best film, best actress, and best supporting actress. The novel comprises the journal of Claireece Precious Jones – known as Precious – who is a 16 year old illiterate girl from Harlem. She is pregnant with her second child; both children were fathered by her own dad, who has repeatedly raped Precious from a very young age. Kicked out of school, she is referred by a sympathetic teacher to an alternative school called Each One/Teach One, where she gradually learns to read and write, and a lot more about herself besides.

Precious’s first child, a daughter, was born with Down’s Syndrome when Precious was only twelve years old:

“‘Something is wrong with your baby,’ Nurse Butter make talk like how pigeons talk, real soft, coo coo, ‘but she’s alive. And she’s yours.’ ‘N she hand me baby. Baby’s face is smashed flat like a pancake, eyes  is all slanted up like Koreans, tongue goin’ in ‘n out like some kinda snake.
‘Mongoloid,’ the other nurse say. Nurse Butter look hard at her.”

Such is Precious’s young age and lack of education, she doesn’t understand the term, and instead calls her baby Little Mongo, because she thinks it sounds nice. Little Mongo is sent to live with Precious’s grandmother, though Precious’s mother claims her welfare cheque as if the baby was looked after by her. She gets more money that way.

Push is, unsurprisingly, an emotional read. The matter of fact descriptions of the horrific abuse she suffers at the hands of both parents (her earliest memory is being forced to perform oral sex on her mother by her father) is horrible to read, but also incredibly compelling, not least because of the affection I felt towards Precious herself. She rarely, for all her troubles, feels any pity for herself, only worrying really about her new son’s future. As the novel progresses, Precious grows as a person too, from a girl who believes she is nothing and compares herself to a vampire because vampires do not show up in photographs, are not really “there”, to a girl who embraces her own life and becomes more self-assured thanks to the support and education she receives at Each One/Teach One. She also learns to stop resenting the fact she is black. Before, she wanted to be white and thin like the women on TV, she thinks they are “real” people instead of being “invisible” like her. By the end of the novel, she has lost much of the inner conflict she feels about her own blackness.

Oddly, I read something else that made me think of this book. At the time of writing this blog post (a couple of days in advance of when it will actually be posted, isn’t technology clever?) I am halfway through reading Brodeck’s Report by Philippe Claudel, the inaugural choice for the Not the TV Book Group – don’t forget our first meeting, hosted by Dovegrey Reader this Sunday. I won’t say anything about Brodeck’s Report now, for obvious reasons, but the novel’s epigram put me instantly of Precious:

“I am nothing. I know it, but my nothing comprises a little bit of everything.” (Victor Hugo, The Rhine)

The same could certainly be said for Precious Jones. So much has happened to her in her short life, all of which has added up to make her feel like nothing.

This novel might not be the greatest novel I’ve ever read, but it is certainly one of the most affecting, and I think it will stay with me for a very long time. I do also want to see the film, and for me to want to see a film is a rare thing indeed! I read an interview with the film’s star, Gabourey Sidibe, where she said that many people had come up to her, thinking the film was a true story. While it is actually based on this powerful novel, the reality is that this story is more than likely true  or close to it for someone out there. And that makes my heart hurt.