On the Come Up: A Heartfelt Review of Angie Thomas’s Ode to Hip-Hop
From the moment I heard about Angie Thomas’s latest release, "On the Come Up," I just knew it was going to resonate with me on a personal level. As a long-time admirer of Thomas’s authentic storytelling—having cherished her debut, "The Hate U Give"—I was both excited and curious to see how she would tackle the complexities of life and ambition in the world of hip-hop. Boy, did she deliver!
At the heart of this YA masterpiece is Brianna "Bri" Jackson, a sixteen-year-old with dreams of becoming one of the greatest rappers of all time. Bri’s journey is both inspiring and gut-wrenching, reflecting the harsh realities many young people face. As the daughter of a talented underground rapper who died before hitting it big, Bri carries the weight of legacy on her shoulders, compounded by the harsh circumstances of her family’s struggles after her mother loses her job. The raw and unfiltered portrayal of poverty—"Excuse me because I have the audacity to be poor!"—strikes a chord, reminding readers of the stigmas surrounding financial hardship.
Thomas’s prose is as lyrical as the music Bri aspires to create. The pacing is brisk, further mirroring the urgency in Bri’s quest for success. From small moments of levity, like her interactions with her endearing best friends Malik and Sonny, to the explosive turns of her rap career, every facet of Bri’s life is woven together with humor, warmth, and authenticity. The dialogue is relatable and genuine, perfectly capturing the voice of a teenager navigating a tumultuous world.
Bri’s complexity as a character drew me in—the mixture of bravado and vulnerability makes her relatable and real. As readers, we witness her frustration and resilience in the face of adversity. Thomas captures the teenage spirit with remarkable precision; when Bri says, “You can’t stop me on the come up,” it’s a battle cry that ignites motivation and optimism.
One of the book’s most compelling themes is the conflict between public perception and personal identity. After Bri’s first song goes viral for all the wrong reasons, she finds herself wrestling with the label of "hoodlum" that follows her. This exploration of societal expectations, especially for Black youth, serves as a powerful commentary on the struggle for authenticity in an often unforgiving world.
As the pages flew by, I was captivated not only by Bri’s music but also by the tapestry of family dynamics—her bond with her brother, Trey, and the nuanced, sometimes tumultuous relationship with her barely-holding-it-together mother. Each character felt fully realized and richly developed, adding depth to Bri’s already complex journey.
In conclusion, "On the Come Up" isn’t just a love letter to hip-hop; it’s a celebration of resilience, family, and the pursuit of one’s dreams against all odds. Whether you’re a hip-hop enthusiast or simply someone who appreciates heartfelt storytelling, this book is a must-read. Thomas’s vivid portrayal of Bri’s struggle left me feeling both uplifted and reflective—a reminder that the journey toward one’s dreams is as meaningful as the destination. I wholeheartedly recommend this book to young adults, hip-hop fans, and anyone looking for an honest, powerful exploration of identity and ambition. Trust me, Bri will stick with you long after you turn the last page.
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