Homegoing’s mood is somber and reflective—all in keeping with its difficult subject matter. In following the lives of seven generations, the novel serves as a chronicle of violence and injustice in all their various forms. Across its two hundred years, it tells of dungeons filled with human bodies and their excrement, of rape, and of kidnapping. It visits the ugliest excesses of human cruelty.
Apart from gruesome whippings and imprisonments, the work explores the countless other ways by which racial oppression operates, some more insidious than others. Britain votes for abolition and Ghana achieves independence, but what doesn’t change is the strain of inhumanity and racism that trails each of the characters. One jazz club after the next turns down Willie for the color of her skin. Decades later, Graham snubs Marjorie with the brunette for prom. Characters must deal with tragedies that run the range of denied aspirations to mass poverty. Even where the hounds or dungeons have disappeared, Homegoing shows how heartbreak and injustice live on.
But the characters endure. They pass down the stone necklace and transmit their stories. Hope and connection somehow manage to coexist with hate, collecting in the finer details of their lives. As much as Homegoing breathes life into history in the abstract, it also captures the small moments of agency that often get left out from the record. Characters like James and Abena travel kilometers to pursue love. Yaw reconnects with Akua just as Sonny does with Willie, learning about their family’s past and appreciating the hardships borne by their mothers. Homegoing’s characters find love despite—and, partly because of—the pain and heartbreak. This mix of emotions creates an atmosphere that is introspective, emotional, and quietly hopeful.