Reading Yaa Gyasi’s Homegoing feels a bit like trying to solve a massive, high-stakes puzzle while someone is constantly taking the pieces away. You start with two half-sisters in 18th-century Ghana—Effia and Esi—who never meet. From there, the book splits into two parallel tracks that span seven generations. It’s a lot. Honestly, if you aren't flipping back to the Homegoing book family tree every ten pages, you're probably a genius or you’re lying.
The novel is ambitious. It attempts to track the legacy of slavery, colonialism, and systemic racism through the bloodlines of these two women. One line stays in Ghana, grappling with the complicity of the Fante and Asante tribes in the slave trade and the eventual crushing weight of British rule. The other line is forced into the American South, moving from the horrors of the "Big House" to the convict leasing systems of the Reconstruction era, all the way to present-day Harlem.
It’s messy. History is messy. Gyasi doesn't give us a neat, linear narrative because the lives of these characters weren't neat. They were fractured by geography and trauma.
The Roots of the Tree: Effia and Esi
Everything begins with Maame. She is the invisible trunk of the Homegoing book family tree. A woman who was a slave herself, Maame has two daughters by two different men.
Effia is the "lucky" one, or so it seems. She is married off to James Collins, a British governor at Cape Coast Castle. She lives in the upper levels of the castle, in relative luxury, unaware (or perhaps willfully ignorant) that her half-sister is literally screaming in the dungeons directly beneath her feet. This is the central irony of the book. One branch of the family lives on top of the other’s suffering.
Esi is the sister in the dungeon. She is sold into the Atlantic slave trade and shipped to the American colonies. While Effia’s descendants deal with the internal politics of the Gold Coast, Esi’s descendants are stripped of their names, their language, and their history.
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Following the Gold Coast Line (Effia’s Descendants)
Effia’s son, Quey, is where the complexity really starts to ramp up. He’s caught between two worlds—his British father’s expectations and his Fante mother’s heritage. This branch of the family tree is defined by a slow, agonizing loss of power.
Quey's son, James, eventually walks away from his "royal" status to marry a simple girl named Akosua. He wants a life free from the slave trade that built his family's wealth. It’s a noble move, but it plunges his descendants into poverty. By the time we get to characters like Abena and Akua (the "Crazy Woman"), the family is haunted by visions of a "firewoman." This fire is a recurring motif across the Homegoing book family tree, representing the ancestral trauma that hasn't been resolved.
Akua’s son, Yaw, becomes a scholar. He’s scarred, both physically and emotionally, but he represents a turning point where the Ghanaian side of the family begins to look back at their history with academic curiosity rather than just fear. Finally, there’s Marjorie, who moves to America. She’s "African" in a way the American characters can't quite grasp, yet she feels like an outsider in her own skin.
The American Branch: Survival and Erasure
Esi’s line is much harder to track if you’re looking for a sense of "home." Her daughter, Ness, is a field hand on a plantation. Ness’s life is defined by the scars on her back. She manages to save her son, Kojo (or "Jo"), by sending him North.
Jo lives a relatively successful life in Baltimore as a freeman, working on ships. But the Fugitive Slave Act ruins everything. His pregnant wife, Anna, is kidnapped and sold back into slavery. This is a crucial point in the Homegoing book family tree because it shows how quickly "progress" can be erased by law.
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Their son, H, becomes one of the most compelling characters in the book. He’s a giant of a man who ends up in the convict leasing system in Alabama, mining coal in conditions that are arguably worse than plantation slavery. H’s line continues through Willie, a singer in Harlem who watches her husband "pass" as white to get ahead, and then to Sonny, who struggles with heroin addiction and the systemic failures of the Great Society era.
The lineage ends with Marcus. He’s a PhD student at Stanford, and he’s terrified of the ocean. He doesn't know why. We, the readers, know why. It’s because his ancestor Esi was held in a dungeon by the sea.
Why the Structure is the Point
Some critics have argued that the book moves too fast. We only get about 30 to 40 pages with each character before we're snatched away and thrown fifty years into the future. It’s disorienting. But that disorientation is exactly what Gyasi is going for.
When you look at the Homegoing book family tree, you realize that none of these characters have the full picture. Marcus doesn't know Marjorie is his cousin. Marjorie doesn't know the specifics of the fire that haunted her grandmother. The reader is the only one who holds the entire map. We are the stewards of their collective memory.
Mapping the Connections
If you're trying to visualize this, stop looking for a perfect vertical chart. It’s more like a double helix that occasionally tries to knit itself back together.
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- The Black Stone: This is the physical anchor of the family tree. Effia is given a black stone by her mother; Esi loses hers in the dungeon. The reappearance of these stones in the final chapter is the only thing that truly closes the circle.
- The Fire and the Water: These are the elemental themes. Effia's line is haunted by fire (the "firewoman," the burning of the village). Esi's line is haunted by water (the Middle Passage, the fear of the ocean).
Tips for Keeping the Generations Straight
If you’re reading Homegoing for a book club or a class, don't try to memorize every name on the first pass. Focus on the "hinge" characters.
- James (Effia’s grandson): He’s the bridge between the "elite" African slave-trading class and the common people.
- H (Esi’s great-grandson): He represents the shift from chattel slavery to the industrial-prison complex.
- Marjorie and Marcus: They are the modern synthesis.
It’s also helpful to note that the book always alternates. Chapter 1 is West Africa, Chapter 2 is America, Chapter 3 is West Africa, and so on. This rhythm helps you keep track of which side of the ocean you’re on, even if the names start to blur.
Actionable Insights for Readers and Students
If you want to truly grasp the weight of the Homegoing book family tree, you need to look beyond the fictional names and look at the real history Gyasi is referencing.
- Research Cape Coast Castle: You can find floor plans of this place today. Seeing the physical proximity of the Governor’s quarters to the slave dungeons makes the Effia/Esi split much more visceral.
- Study Convict Leasing: The chapter on H is based on a very real, very dark part of American history where Black men were arrested on trumped-up charges to provide free labor for coal mines and railroads.
- Trace Your Own Roots: Part of the "point" of the book is the privilege of knowing where you came from. Many African Americans cannot trace their tree back as far as Esi because records were intentionally destroyed. Use resources like the African American National Biography or local genealogical societies to understand how these historical gaps are being filled today.
The Homegoing book family tree isn't just a literary device. It’s a reminder that history isn't something that happened "back then." It’s a living, breathing thing that shapes how we move, what we fear, and who we love today. When Marcus and Marjorie finally meet at the end, they aren't just two people meeting; they are two halves of a broken story finally coming back together.