This is my second read of Homegoing, and I’m always mesmerized by its imagery and ability to get me vested in characters that I know will have fleeting moments in such a vast narrative.
I consider this story a modern masterpiece in its conquering of a narrative that spans two hundred years and in its attention to detail. Gyasi’s ability to “show” through expressive descriptions and omniscient situational awareness offered such emotion for me. I think this level of placing the reader “there” would be very difficult for most authors with so many characters and alternating POVs.
It also gave me even more historical lessons regarding the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade and made those familial connections between Africa and the United States, specifically, more palpable.
Effia and Esi: two sisters with two very different destinies. One sold into slavery; one a slave trader's wife. The consequences of their fate reverberate through the generations that follow. Taking us from the Gold Coast of Africa to the cotton-picking plantations of Mississippi; from the missionary schools of Ghana to the dive bars of Harlem, spanning three continents and seven generations, Yaa Gyasi has written a miraculous novel - the intimate, gripping story of a brilliantly vivid cast of characters and through their lives the very story of America itself.…
I adore novels that weave actual historical circumstances into the narrative without it being the focus. Both Ruby and Eleanor existed in times when we failed our young girls in a multitude of ways, and classism, racism, and colorism were unapologetically expressed.
While the characters endure these injustices in several ways, it is not the focus. I love how we get to witness them simply pursue their desires, loves, and dreams with these realities as a backdrop.
Johnson does an amazing job of placing us there and letting us feel the emotions of these human experiences within the muck of those external forces, almost like an added weight we know to be there but try to find happiness despite it. That’s how I imagine life really was. It was necessary for survival.
“Amazing…I was completely surprised by the ending of this beautifully told and written book.” —Reese Witherspoon
“A triumph of historical fiction” (The Washington Post), an instant New York Times bestseller, and a Reese’s Book Club pick, set in 1950s Philadelphia and Washington, DC, that explores what it means to be a woman and a mother, and how much one is willing to sacrifice to achieve her greatest goal.
1950s Philadelphia: fifteen-year-old Ruby Pearsall is on track to becoming the first in her family to attend college. But a taboo love affair threatens to pull her back down into the poverty…
This novel meshed together many things I enjoy about narratives on the messiness of imperfect people still coping with the trauma of their past.
We are complex creatures, and we all carry the legacy of our experiences, whether we choose to acknowledge them or ignore them utilizing less-than-ideal methods. Those depictions are truly relatable and arouse empathy for the kind of individuals society often deems as irredeemable in many aspects.
Despite how heavy some situations were, I found the dialogue to be humorous in many places and made the overall mood lighter when needed to propel the story along. There is also a historical thread woven throughout, the kind that gives necessary context and messaging themes without beating you over the head.
The instant New York Times bestseller and Reese Witherspoon book club pick is "a heady combination of book love and between-the-sheets love.” (Ruth Ware)
“Tia Williams’s book is a smart, sexy testament to Black joy, to the well of strength from which women draw, and to tragic romances that mature into second chances. I absolutely loved it.” —JODI PICOULT, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Book of Two Ways and Small Great Things
Seven days to fall in love, fifteen years to forget, and seven days to get it all back again...
This story is about how trauma affects people throughout their lives, sometimes stretching across generations.
Often, that hardship is so inextricably woven into people's daily lives that they don’t recognize it, and experience it as an acceptable part of their existence. In their living and coping, they may lose themselves or their self-worth. And although this is a very human and raw narrative of how we experience life and face pain, there is still hope. There is still love, laughter, and opportunity if allowed in—sometimes coming from unexpected sources. Those who struggle to emerge from behind clouds of loss or escape from that darkness more slowly than others deserve grace and empathy in this world.
