Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi is Almost as Good as People Say

In case you’re reading this review because you’ve recently heard of Yaa Gyasi’s bestselling novel Homegoing and are considering “getting around to it” but have no idea whether it’s as good as the professional, respected reviewers say it is: yes. Almost.

But how is that possible? Can a debut novel by a twenty-something author that frames itself as a family saga (a well-trod structure in Western literature) really earn an average rating of 4.44 on Goodreads? How can Gyasi effectively convey 250 years of slavery, racism, colonialism and human suffering in only 300 pages? Is there a point at all to reading popular books because of someone else’s recommendation?

1. Yes.
2.  Good characters.
3. Maybe.

The third question is the easiest to answer. Homegoing had been on my TBR for several months before I received a copy of it, and I had read rave reviews and seen Booktubers’ recommendations. I had loved some popular, oft-recommended books before it (Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel) and disliked others (The Overstory by Richard Powers), but the story of two half-sisters who experience history and raise families on both sides of the Atlantic also seemed inherently interesting to me. Still, it was hard to ignore the overwhelming hype surrounding this book and Transcendent Kingdom, Gyasi’s second novel. What was it about Gyasi that could make centuries of disenfranchisement into a bestseller?

For one, she observes the less-explored corners of that history. The early chapters explore the Transatlantic Slave Trade from the perspectives of African leaders complicit in selling slaves. Big topics like the Civil War and the Civil Rights Movement are skipped entirely. Yaa Asentewaa’s war and the struggle for independence are fought squarely from the home front. Instead, Gyasi focuses on things like the wrongful incarceration and forced labor of black men in America during Reconstruction, and the implementation of Cocoa planting across Ghana. 

“Every time he saw the bomnoys set off with a canoe fall of slaves, he thought of his father standing on the shores of the Cape Coast Castle, ready to receive them. On this shore, watching the canoe push off, Quey brimmed with the same shame that accompanied each slave departure. What had his father felt on this shore?” (62)

But Homegoing is more than an account of historical events. While history is the focus of the story, the incredibly human relationships tether one character to another. I was invested in every love story Gyasi presented, from the uneasy affection of Effia and James, to the adolescent pining of Quey and Cudjo, to the heartbreaking partnership of Willie and Robert. Gyasi’s cast is neither historic nor histrionic. Each character is believable and many are lovable.

Gyasi, having accomplished the Herculean task of writing a story that encompasses the sweep of history while remaining intimate and original, is on the cusp of brilliance. What earthly force could fetter it?

“In Hell, the sun scorched cotton so hot it almost burned the palms of your hands to touch it. Holding those small white puffs had almost felt like holding fire, but God forbid you let one drop. The Devil was always watching” (74)

The prose.

The prose is alright. It’s not bad. It’s just not as good as the characters or the history. Gyasi writes from the perspectives of 14 different characters, but their voices blur together a little by the end. Perhaps Gyasi is still finding her literary voice, and by Transcendent Kingdom, her second novel, it will be more developed. But without this crucial element I cannot quite give Homegoing the five stars that its scope and characters might otherwise indicate.

Nevertheless, I’m very glad I read Homegoing and that I can recommend it to you. I’m not going to insist that you read it. That’s obnoxious. But if you choose to pick it up, you will soon find yourself staring across a black and unrelenting tide which might just sweep you away.