Book No. 44 of 2021
Whew, this book—it made me feel like I’d lived a thousand lives, and it was also so rich and multilayered that I am a little terrified of the power of Gyasi’s mind??
Through single chapters that are little more than brief glimpses into the life of each character, Gyasi paints a sweeping, multigenerational saga that spans centuries and continents. She traces two branches of family—who are unaware of each other’s existence—from the moment that slavery forks their destinies and reaches its long fingers from 17th century Ghana into 21st century New York City.
I was in awe of how much Gyasi is able to say with so little. At the end of each chapter I was heartbroken that my time with that character had come to an end—that’s how thoroughly she draws you in—and yet I was often relieved, because the level of horror and trauma was sometimes overwhelming. She also shows you how complex the world is; the book is a tangled web of stubborn hopes and inherited traumas and monstrous actions and unthinkable horror and complicit guilt that you realize is an unapologetic depiction of our world for what it truly is.
Similar Reads
The depiction of slavery reminded me of Colson Whitehead’s Underground Railroad.
Certain storylines reminded me of Maaza Mengiste’s The Shadow King.
Quite a lot of the later chapters reminded me of Isabel Wilkerson’s The Warmth of Other Suns.
The multigenerational saga (landing you in modern NYC) + theme of intergenerational trauma reminded me of Maisy Card’s These Ghosts Are Family.