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I FINALLY feel ready to sit down and put some words together about my first five-star read of 2026: “Only God Can Judge Me: The Many Lives of Tupac Shakur” by Jeff Pearlman.
Since the holidays, I’ve been reading a lot of books about musicians (mostly complicated male musicians, to be specific), but I’ve been hanging out in the rock genre for the most part.
But one of the indie bookstores I like was donating a portion of their sales to a cause I care about one day, so I gave myself permission to shop. I don’t often let myself buy books (my bookshelf is double-stacked), and when I do, I feel pressure to get a book that isn’t at the library.
But on this day, I gave myself the ultimate treat: I told myself I could buy ANY book that caught my attention. It could be brand new, old, at the library, or not, anything.
After circling the store several times, I saw a book with a black-and-white photo of Tupac on its cover. It was on the new releases table. I picked it up, read the inside flap, and took it to the register.
I was in the middle of finishing reading some books from the library, so once I finished those, I was scouring my shelves for something new to read. I wanted to read the Tupac book, but it was 400 pages, and I don’t know why (I’ve read much longer books than that), but I was intimidated by it.
I picked it up anyway and decided to give it a go. I think I started reading it on a Sunday or a Monday night, and the introductory chapter (a wild story behind Tupac’s song, “Brenda’s Got a Baby”) immediately hooked me.
By midweek, I took the book with me to a reading event (where everyone reads whatever they want in silence and then can share what they’re reading with the group), and the response to my reading it was interesting. During the event, I’d just read the chapter where a scuffle broke out after a Tupac performance, and a stray bullet from his gun killed a young child. It was heavy, and it was a layer of complication I hadn’t read in the rock genre books.
Anyway, I was so hooked on this book that I finished it the next night, literally sitting down with it after singing off work and reading until I was finished!
This book covers Tupac’s life, including much about his biological mom and dad, and the other parental figures that were in and out of his life. It also focuses on his rise to fame (which was quick), his untimely death, and even the aftermath of it.
I have lots of quotes I highlighted in the book, and I’ll share some of them with you here:
In Afeni, Tupac saw nonstop contradictions. She could be loving and compassionate, then turn around and be cruel and abusive and emotionally vacant. She was a hard worker who landed a job as a data processorin nearby Columbia, Maryland. She was a drug addict who, on multiple occassions, turned to crack to ease the pain. She was prideful, strong, self-sufficient. She was also collecting $375-per-month welfare checks and food stamps—concessions to the povery that drowned her. She was a Black Panther, something Tupac bragged about until everyone at BSA knew of her legacy. But she was a former Black Panther whose pride had withered.
There were reasons Tupac acted the fool. His need for attention was rooted in a childhood of being ignored. His brashness came with deep fears of being redered forgettable. In the case of his two and a half months on Poetic Justice, some of his behavior could be chalked up to simple immaturity. Maya Angelou, the poet and civil rights activist, had a small speaking role in the movie (her poetry was featured throughout) and grew so fatigued by Tupac’s on-set antics that she took him aside and said, ‘When was the last time anyone told you how important you are? Did you know our people stood on auction blocks, were sold, bought and sold, did you know, so that you could stay alive today?’
There were no light moments in the presence of Suge Knight. He dripped intensity. When the employees angered him, he made them stand in the corner. When a songwriter underperformed, he snarled, ‘Write a hit, or get hit.’ Answer the phone incorrectly and earn a smack across the forhead. An office closet stocked baseball hats, and they were not for the company picnic.
The contradictions of Tupac Shakur can fill a book. Maybe an encyclopedia. How is one both a misogynistic accused rapist and a sensitive future spouse? How is one both comfortable calling women bitches and writing the lyrics to ‘Keep Ya Head Up?’ How is one a bibliophile and naive? How does one read multiple newspapers per day and oftentimes seem ignorant? How can one be a by-product of he Black Panthers and appear to stand for nothing the organization believed in? Even as a man engaged to a woman he referred to as my everything,’ Tupac continued to play the field and seek out sex.
… I marked up so many more, but I don’t want to give too much away 🙂 It’s such a good book, not only because of Tupac’s story, but also because of Pearlman’s research, writing, and reporting. Before this book, Pearlman had only written books about sports figures.
I have some of those on my TBR list now, but wow, this book gave me SUCH a book hangover! I’ll be thinking about it for a very long time, and I’m so glad it has a home on my shelf.
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