While a bit of an improvement on his first novel The White Boy Shuffle, I think Paul had yet to totally master the art of the novel even here, in his second attempt. There are--as in The White Boy Shuffle--flashes of genius, beautiful passages, touching passages, and many, many wildly funny, witty, and deliciously absurd passages, but somehow their mix and the overall pacing just don't quite fall together to totally satisfy.
My theory with The White Boy Shuffle, which I heard Paul read from (the stunning first chapter) at Saint Mark's Poetry Project way back in the day, was that this stellar opening chapter got him an agent and a book deal before he was totally ready and they must have rushed him through the writing to a deadline as that novel begins very strongly and then feels more and more rushed and unsatisfying as you go. Tuff, I see, was published four years later, and looks to have had sufficient time for its genesis. I found it more even throughout, but still clunkier toward the finish line, and without much of an ending, although I think that's also part of the point of the story it tells; less a story and more a character study really, capturing a time and a place, even if, being contemporary, Paul didn't know he was capturing the era (the late '90s), he was, I'm sure, doing his homework on East Harlem and the neighborhood characters he describes here, since he's a California product and a college boy, neither New Yorker nor neighborhood big boy drug dealer.
Which brings us to the problem some people seem to have with Beatty's books, that they're either too black or not black enough, that he's too intellectual and connected to write about the ghetto, etc etc. All this shit gets loaded onto us writers these days due to the obviously well meaning identity politics of the last 40+ years. It's a shame. But I have to note that it's the racists who brought identity politics into being as a necessity, so it's all on them--wokeness too. If the asshole right wing would just shut the fuck up and let people be, the left would be pretty chill I imagine. The left only gets violent when pushed, the right, however, believing might makes right, is endlessly preaching strength (code for violence basically).
I rather see Paul's novels as heir to an early hero of both of us (we're the same age and from the same state and I knew him to speak too back in my own brief New York City residency and always found him witty and friendly) Richard Pryor. I think Paul is more humorist than realist, more character-creator and Bob Kaufman American surrealist than anything you'd want to try to hold to some credible standard for a neo-realist political reading. Not that there aren't political elements to this novel's plot, to its characters, and to the writing, but they're completely on the author's terms, not on yours, or your political party's--and that's also a thing Tuff sits through in the novel, each party seeking to enroll him in their agenda, and these scene probably represent Paul's response to that approach to his writing.
I enjoyed Tuff. It's brilliant in spots, but unevenly paced and toned and the ending, while not bad, is still mostly a fizzle, and he obviously did much better later with The Sellout, but I'm glad I found this remaindered first edition in a suburban Barnes n Noble and saved it from the shredder--even if it took me nearly 20 years to get around to reading it.