In one of my high school history classes, we skipped studying the continent of Africa entirely, because it was “too complex” and “changes too frequently” to be considered worth our time on the curriculum.

So when I made a list of books for this column, I purposely chose some books that made me nervous to review, because their history might be “too complex.”

I’ve read a lot regarding the history and brutality of slavery, especially through the English curriculum at Kansas State, but almost nothing about the lives of Africans before reaching the Americas.

I chose “The Door of No Return,” by Kwame Alexander, largely because it’s a young adult book. It was written as a doorway for audiences who probably don’t know a lot about colonization and the slave trade in Africa, but most importantly, the story starts in West Africa, not the countries where people were being enslaved.

It follows 11-year-old Kofi, growing up in 1860 Upper Kwanta — now Ghana — 14 years before the country was considered a British colony and slavery was prohibited. He’s a smart kid who fiercely loves his family, friends, storytelling and swimming, but it’s all threatened when an accidental death occurs during a festival between rival villages, sending Kofi on a harrowing journey through a door of no return.

In his author’s note, Alexander says this is one of the hardest stories he’s ever written, and after reading it I can see why. It’s gut-wrenching and deeply moving, offering a violent history through a gentle voice. 

I listened to this story through an audiobook, narrated by Kobna Holdbrook-Smith, along with reading it, and it was one of the best narrations I’ve ever heard. Oral tradition and storytelling was such a strong theme throughout the book, and the narration brought that to life. Even though this is historical fiction, this story is based on the real history of the Asante people, and the narrator’s emotion and dialect was a steadfast reminder that these events were happening to people, not just characters.

Another thing I loved was the use of water in the story, especially its role in unity and division. The Offin River specifically, who Kofi is named after, is a place of immeasurable joy and agony throughout the story. Notably, it becomes a recurring prompt for metaphors, especially involving family and appreciation.

The prose is poetic, written in novel-in-verse format with brief, introductory stories at the beginning of each chapter. Kofi’s narration was obviously that of an 11-year-old for the entire book, which I appreciated, alongside the frequent, snarky commentary that comes with that youth.

If I could only describe this story with one word, it would be “vivid.” Every chapter was rich with storytelling, metaphors, culture and history even when despair was high.

I would give this story 4.8 stars out of five, only knocking a few minor points off because the ending felt abrupt.

I don’t know how I would have reacted to the heavy parts of this story when I was younger, but I know that it was a healthy read for me at today’s age. It gently reminded me that history does not begin with the parts that impact me, and that the only way to gain new perspectives is to expose myself to them. Stories like these remind me why storytelling is so important, because it gave me the footing to learn more about my own subconscious thresholds and who people are beyond it.