Transcendent Kingdom - Yaa Gyasi [Review]

NOTE: This review was written without having read the book for a video. You can watch the video here.

I first came across Yaa Gyasi when I read her debut novel “Homegoing”, and I have to say I wasn't a fan. I'm not sure what it was about it, but I read it a long time before I had this account when I read almost exclusively non-fiction. I was very reluctant to pick up Transcendent Kingdom, then, but since so many of you responded positively to it in a poll I shared, I decided I should give it a go.

The book is told from the perspective of Gifty, a fifth year Neuroscience student at the prestigious Stanford School of Medicine, with further context added throughout the book by way of flashbacks to her childhood and adolescence. We know from the synopsis that her life is marred by trauma as her family is still grieving her brother's death. Nana was a talented athlete but his overdose has permanently scarred their mother, with the shockwave of pain compounding and further impacting Gifty's life and her detached relationship with her mother. 

The family moved from Ghana to Alabama before Gifty was born, but after difficulties in assimilating their father moved back home when Gifty was quite young, which fragmented the family very early on and only helped to exacerbate the fallout after Nana’s death. Much of the work Gifty does in her research, then, is motivated by a desire to live up to expectations and to understand the logical chain of reasoning behind Nana’s overdose and her mother's deep depression. 

Gyasi does a particularly good job at introducing a plethora of seemingly unrelated topics and discussing them with care and leaving very few loose threads. We know that they are a black christian family in a white christian neighborhood - while they may belong to the same religion, there is a divergence in their cultural experiences and ultimately this difference plays a part in Gifty’s formative years and her identity complex. As a successful athlete Nana felt part of a community and felt accepted by it, but the same people turned their back on him following his addiction to OxyContin (and later heroin).

When you are grieving it is not uncommon to question the status quo, the state in which the traumatic event occurred. Gifty begins to question her religion, especially in light of the seemingly contradictory role she has in her PhD studies, and how her beacon of comfort and consolation could be complicit in so much brutality and devastation. Although she may understand the science behind her brother's addiction and her mother's descent into depression, she still seems to be lacking answers; she knows the facts, but her heart still falls to religion to understand why.

These various interwoven challenges help to build a very real story, so much so that this almost reads like a memoir at times.

This book covers many topics; religion, science, trauma, family, class, race, addiction, and so much more. Yet Gyasi does not approach any of these topics idly. This book is ultimately about conflict and battles, both within and without, between different classes, races, but also an internal debate about her identity as a second generation immigrant and her relationship with science and religion.

The conclusion at the heart of this book is reassuring and non-judgemental; neither science nor religion alone can help Gifty process her thoughts, her grief, and the trauma her family has been through. Rather, they each have their own unique roles in shaping who she is and how she behaves, interacts, and develops.