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Born in the spring of 1966, Kevin Powell entered the world
and, though his mother had moved to Jersey City from “Down
South” to escape it, slid directly into poverty. They shared
a rat-and-roach-infested apartment with Powell’s aunt and
her son, and their us-against-the-world closeness was
“something safe, something magical…”
At age four, Powell “did not know what the word ‘drunk’
meant,” but he learned at a party, and was beaten by his
mother for getting drunk-sick. At age six, his grandfather
died, but although Powell barely knew the man, he understood
that he was a wife-beater. At 13, he impulsively joined a
fight and lost his cousin, who angrily shunned Powell for
the rest of their lives.
As he grew and matured, Powell began to realize that his
family was poor. His home turf was bleak and there were
times when it seemed like a dead-end, but his mother told
him that he needed an education to become something. She’d
never hugged him. He received no physical affection from
her; in fact, she beat him regularly. She said he wasn’t
“gonna make it,” but she got him a library card anyway.
Books opened up his world, he hungered to read, and he
decided that he wanted to be a writer.
But then life intervened.
Powell went to college, but his temper got him into trouble
time and again. He joined a mosque, but left it just as
quickly. He’d learned to hate white people, and that got him
into trouble, too. He found success in the entertainment
world, but he started to drink and commit petty crimes; he
hit bottom, then hit it again… until a search for his lost
past gave him what he needed.
Imagine, if you will, that you’re in the ring with a
pro-wrestler.
He picks you up, and slams you to the mat. Then he does it
again. And again. That’s what it’s like to read The
Education of Kevin Powell: a series of literary
body-slams, over and over and over.
Part of that effect comes from Powell’s style: there are
times when he pulls out a sense of childlike innocence
that’ll make you chuckle uneasily. But beware – there are
teeth behind the wide-eyed schtick, and his next memory
gnashes them. In a way, that can be quite relentless – but
it’s also very interesting and oh-so-entertaining.
I thought for a minute that I wouldn’t recommend this book
(now out in paperback) but I ended up liking it a lot. It’s
an up-and-down journey with humor and strength, and if
that’s what you need, then The Education of Kevin Powell
is what you should have. |
