Transcendent Kingdom, a book review

In preparation for the upcoming Festival of Faith and Writing at Calvin University April 11-13, I’ve been a mad woman putting books on hold at the library and checking titles off my Reading List. There are far tooooo many workshop leaders to read all the books, so I’ve concentrated on the main ones, the plenary speakers. This past week I read Yaa Gyasi’s Transcendent Kingdom.

Several things put me off at first. If you judge a book by its cover—which WE ALL DO (it’s the relevance behind that axiom)—I hated it. There was a sticker Read with Jenna (not a fan), the colors—sort of a putty puke contrasted against a charcoal not quite black with the figure of a woman awkwardly praying. Nevertheless, I opened up to page one.

I was reminded of Daniel Keyes’ Flowers for Algernon, there is an experiment using mice that will ultimately impact the story, the scientist doing the research, and hold parallels for the universal reader. I would also critique the first sentence—“Whenever I think of my mother”, just like on a first date, talking about one’s mother is a turn-off.

Yet. I was entirely blown away by this novel.

Yaa Gyasi is a young, up and coming author, A recipient of the National Book Foundation's 2016 "5 Under 35" Award. This is her second novel after a brilliant debut with Homecoming. I felt like I was under the spell of a master, someone who knew how to use language to communicate the esoteric, the emotional spiritual journey that the main character had been on and eventually abandoned, maybe. Just as the title indicates, I’ve never read someone who so effectively described the transcendent, the phenomena, the experience of Christian conversion particular to the US and to evangelicals, As a scientist she referenced that it was a paradox, but also as someone who worked in the language of hypothesis, she was comfortable with the mystery of faith and belief. She had gone to college, been scrutinized for holding beliefs, in a world of radicalized undergrads sometimes voicing belief is itself radical—and unpopular, then slowly letting go and allowing the tide of other voices and the current culture to wash over her. If she were to keep going in the sciences it seemed there would be no room for her Pentecostal background,

A background that would ultimately stand in contrast to her research. Such as the hard and fast faith of her mother, doctrines of absolutism, letting go and letting God take over, the healing power of prayer, that all things work together for good. Even the death of a beloved brother? What about the pervasive racism against people of color? The low expectations of superiors toward women in the sciences? How does one square the recent political vehemence of White Evangelicals? Gifty, the voice of the novel, is up against a lot, but is still motivated to see her experiment to the end—in both an internal and external journey. This story holds so much power.

So do not be put off by the cover, by the idea that the author is perhaps someone you never heard of, by the confluence of vowels and consonants in her name, and read through the first sentence into the heart of a story about a woman who defies her brain, who transcends the message of media to go beyond—to the squishy side of the soul.