Dear Martin. Nic Stone. 2017. Random House. 212 pages. [Source: Public library.]
If nothing in the world ever changes, what type of man are you gonna be?
I picked up Dear Martin on the recommendation of someone because I’d enjoyed The Hate You Give. This book is in a similar vein as THUG in that it follows the aftermath of an officer-involved shooting that results in a young, black teen’s death. More than that, however, it explores the complexities of racial and social class in nuanced ways. Told from the perspective of 17-year-old Justyce, Dear Martin gives a young, black males insight, which I found especially interesting.
Justyce is an honor student who attends a prestigious private school on a full scholarship. He is, however, from the other side of the proverbial tracks, the child of a single mother and lives in what he describes as a bad area of Atlanta. His bright future is a foregone conclusion – Ivy league education, law school, public policy career. However, he receives a rude awakening that his accomplishments mean little in the face of biased community members.
Justyce’s initial encounter as someone who fits the description of a criminal is only the first in a string of incidents that lead up to both him and his best friend Manny being shot by an off-duty officer. The recovery, both physical and emotional, is slow and difficult. The book explores the impacts of Manny’s death on his family and friends, classmates, and also follows at court proceedings, media portrayal, and more. Dear Martin is at times emotional and raw, but is always honest. I appreciated the author’s ability to invoke self-reflection without having to make this book a blatant agenda. There are myriad perspectives represented, so the reader benefits from those that may not align with their own. I also appreciate that this book takes it a step further from the young adults and looks (albeit briefly) at the impact of race, class, and media on the adults in this book.
Some of the greatest and most challenging issues arise from Justyce’s relationships with those around him. He struggles with an on-again, off-again relationship Melo, who is biracial; he also begins to realize growing feelings toward Sarah-Jane, who happens to be white. His best friend Manny, is black, but most of Manny’s friends are white. He even struggles with balancing relationships of the people he grew up with in his neighborhood, whose lives have taken a different trajectory from his own. These relationships are complicated by socio-economics, with Justyce having to navigate in an environment that doesn’t fully acknowledge the impact of both race and class on people’s lived experiences.
By far, the best part of the book is the series of letters Justyce writes to Martin Luther King, Jr. They are intended to help Justyce reflect and he often asks himself “what would Martin do?” Through these letters, the reader is able to understand Justyce’s clearest — and most anguished — thoughts. His processing of his surroundings, relationships, and incidents he has to contend with are eye-opening and evoke empathy. I also appreciate that these letters are almost Socratic in his questioning; he has lost his youthful naivete and has begun to ask hard-hitting questions about his place in the world and those around him.
While I cannot say there is a “happy” ending in this book, there is certainly growth. I really think it is a strong representation of the complex issues at play around race, class, and law enforcement. At times it is disheartening, but never contrived or inauthentic. This is likely a situation that plays out daily for a lot of people, and Stone’s ability to synthesize it here is commendable. I definitely recommend this for young adults and adult readers alike.
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