Juxtaposing Carla, living in extreme poverty in Honduras, with Texan, Alice, 
who has struggled with the fact that she is unable to bear children and has endured failed surrogacy and adoption attempts, this book illustrates two people who appear to be different in every way yet share “the same sky.” Amanda Eyre Ward’s writing style is blunt. Harsh. Nothing is glossed over and rarely relieved with lightness or humor . The sharp edges of aching grief and desperate need stand in stark relief against a background that offers little hope in any way, shape or form– for a long stretch of pages. This is a work of fiction, based on gruesome realities and interspersed with occasional crude language (I still wonder when and why the f-word has become acceptable. I would be happy to never see or hear it again). On page 76 of 276 pages, I just wanted it to be over. But I’m reading it as a book club selection for my Chapter Chicks group, so I pressed on. Plus I wanted to know what happens and how Carla and Alice’s lives end up intersecting.
Note: spoiler alert for the upcoming paragraphs!
Gradually the characters develop more complexity. Carla urgently needs to get her little brother out of Honduras. He started sniffing glue at the age of 6, and she knows that this addiction has signed his death warrant unless she can rescue him immediately.
I closed the padlock and lay next to Junior, my arm around his small body. I knew then what the end of hope smelled like: yellow glue on your brother’s breath.
She boldly throws her lot in with Ernesto, a young gang member she just met who has agreed to try to escort Carla and Junior around the law and through several borders to reach Carla’s mother who lives as an illegal immigrant in Austin, Texas. They will risk their lives to ride The Beast (El tren de la muerte– the death train), which means clinging to the top of a hurtling freight train along with murderers, rapists, and other desperate children and adults for 1,450 miles.
Of course Alice and her husband also live in Austin. We know that her mother died when she was a child, and that she survived breast cancer in her college years. After a heart-wrenching failed adoption she decides to try to fill the childless void in her life by agreeing to take on a “little sister” from the local high school. Evian is 15 years old and her life is a mess. Alice is immediately in over her head. She no longer believes God has a plan for her life– or anyone else’s.
I didn’t believe there was a plan. Look at Evian, for C__ ‘s sake. What was the plan for her? God had given her a s__ mother, then hooked her up with someone like me, who hadn’t a clue about how to help her…. I felt angry and impotent. But then I thought– why not? I wanted to take care of someone, and Evian sure as h__ needed care.
And so the book continues from one distressing or heart-breaking situation to the next. But the characters are gradually finding out what they want and need and what’s important. Clara finds out that being in America does not solve every problem. Alice discovers that maybe her life can be fulfilling even without a baby. Then suddenly, very suddenly, the story ends with new beginnings for everyone. I wasn’t ready yet. For the end. Fortunately there was a short epilogue set many years after the ending of the main story. It helps.
I felt the thread that bound us, that ran from the graves of your ancestors north, through Mexico to Texas…. A thread of blood. A vein of grace.
This is a story worth reading. It’s uncomfortable. It contrasts the “haves” with the “have-nots.” It shines a light on why illegal aliens risk life and limb to come to America. We see that even though we don’t see or understand God’s plan, it is still there. It paints a picture of what faith can mean to different people and what it takes to be happy. One particular quote from Carla encapsulates this idea:
I know how privilege sounds: haughty, a bit loud, incensed by imagined slights. Americans don’t seem to laugh as much as we do, in my family. Maybe they haven’t been forced to see the worst of human nature, to know the true value of joy.
At the very least, The Same Sky has encouraged me to pull gratitude out of my privilege.
Savored Phrases 