Sky Full of Elephants

“He wondered if this was what Columbus felt: to look upon something already there with nothing to stop you from claiming every mile as yours.”

Charlie complicates the binary event by comparing himself to Christopher Columbus. The reference suggests the Black characters don’t have categorically pure motives. Like the Italian navigator, they’re capable of exploitation and greed. However, unlike Columbus, Charlie’s reclamation is not built on violence or the subjugation of others but rather on the absence of an oppressive force. His reflection exposes the lingering ethical complexities of taking ownership over a world that was never fully his to begin with.

“If anyone is alive, I am leaving to go be with the other survivors in Orange Beach, Alabama. We are not all gone. We are not all gone.”

The note from Aunt Agnes is central to the plot. It gives Sidney a goal (to be with her family) and Charlie a purpose (to help his daughter). The note also links to the motif of “they,” “us,” and “we.” At this point, Sidney’s “we” consists of white people. Agnes’s emphasis on survival also foreshadows the ultimate revelation about Orange Beach—it is not a pure sanctuary but a place where whiteness, as an ideology, persists, challenging Sidney’s assumptions about identity and belonging.

“The lake was a graveyard.”

Charlie sees Sidney staring at the water and realizes she thinks of it as a graveyard. The symbolism qualifies as tragic irony. The stark twist is that water already symbolized death for Black people. Sidney’s grief mirrors Black historical trauma, but she initially fails to recognize the deeper historical weight of water as a site of Black suffering, reinforcing her limited perspective on race and history. As enslavers transported enslaved Black people across the Atlantic Ocean to the Americas, the inhumane conditions on the ships killed many Black people, and the enslavers would throw the dead bodies into the water.

“Vivian’s voice rallied the masses. And she was known across the south as the one to call when your plight didn’t warrant Jesse or Al.”

“Jesse” alludes to the Black activist Jesse Jackson, and “Al” references the Black activist Al Sharpton. Due to their visibility and rhetoric, people accuse them of using the Black community to further their personal interests. As the narrator juxtaposes Vivian with Sharpton and Jackson, the narrator suggests Vivian selflessly wants to help the Black community. This positioning elevates Vivian as a figure of direct action, not media spectacle, reinforcing her leadership as rooted in grassroots mobilization rather than political maneuvering.

“[Little] was wild, fearsome, destructive—mad with bitterness and ferocious with lust—everything she’d been taught of black men.”

Charlie believes Little perpetuates the racist stereotype of Black men as violently sexual, and the hyperbolic diction reinforces Charlie’s claim. Charlie preserves Little’s humanity by not shooting him, and Chapter 38 extends Little’s complexity by detailing his traumatic history. Little’s portrayal as both victim and aggressor highlights how racism distorts perceptions of Black masculinity, forcing men like him into roles shaped by white fear and societal expectation.

“I look out there now and just think, Is that it? Is that the best we can do? We finally got the world to ourselves, and we still just continuing on with the program they made for us.”

The site of the quinceañera shows the shortcomings of the post-event world. Society remains imperfect, and all races and groups are capable of perpetuating limiting traditions. The quinceañera specifically triggers Zu due its focus on cisgendered teen girls. Zu’s frustration also reflects a broader concern in the novel—whether liberation is truly possible if systems and social roles remain fundamentally unchanged.

“Three months after it happened, Hosea stood at the port watching the ships come and go.”

The novel continues to engage and revise history. In the past, the ships might have brought enslaved people. After “it,” the ships bring goods and materials to help support the holistic society in Mobile, Alabama. The passage reframes the port as a space of possibility rather than suffering, subtly addressing the reversal of historical trauma through tangible transformation.

“At the cruising height, Charlie could see how little light still burned in the country below. So much of the land cloaked in darkness. All the space between cities and towns, connecting mountains to rivers, shore to shore.”

The “darkness” is something of a red herring. While much of the South is undeveloped and bleak, the South is also home to the flourishing kingdom in Mobile. Once again, the imagery links to history. During the Civil War, the South experienced “darkness,” as the Union often burned and pillaged the land as they advanced upon the Confederacy. The darkness here is both literal and figurative, reflecting the collapse of old systems while foreshadowing the emergence of new, unseen networks of power and resilience.

“If Ethel wanted to burn the earth to rid herself of something, Sailor, Charlie guessed, aimed to rid himself by getting above the earth and its troubles all for as long as he could.”

Charlie juxtaposes Ethel and Sailor and articulates their similarities. Neither character is inclined to create a cohesive identity. They’d rather avoid the fraught process through fire (Ethel) or flying (Sailor). Their actions symbolize two responses to trauma: destruction versus escape. Ethel chooses to confront and eradicate the remnants of the past, while Sailor seeks to distance himself from it entirely. Both methods, however, are temporary and avoid deeper engagement with healing, reflecting how different characters in the novel struggle to process historical trauma. This quote reflects an early stage of The Search for Unified Identity.

“Understand, a king—any king—is little more than an adviser […] If you want permission, the person you have to ask is the queen.”

Hosea clarifies the power dynamic in Mobile, Alabama. The imputed kingdom not only shifts away from capitalism, but as the true power lies with the queen, Vivian, the society practices matriarchy instead of patriarchy. This structure subverts traditional hierarchies, offering an alternative to Western power dynamics that have historically centered male leadership. Vivian’s authority suggests a shift toward a governance model rooted in communal well-being and intuitive leadership rather than dominance and control. This quote reflects the theme of Creating Holistic, Inclusive Systems.

“Within the cluster of Nona’s life, Sidney acknowledged the hollowness of her own […] No, she didn’t hate Nona. She wanted to be bold too. She wanted to wield a sturdiness of self just like Nona.”

Sidney’s struggle to create a stable identity causes her to lash out at Nona, who has what Sidney lacks—a sturdy self. As Nona becomes a model for Sidney, the moment marks a key turning point, where Sidney starts to see how she’s a part of Nona’s “us” and “we.” This realization signifies Sidney’s slow shift away from whiteness as an identity and towards a more inclusive understanding of herself. By admiring Nona rather than resenting her, Sidney takes a step toward breaking down the internalized barriers that have kept her isolated from Blackness.

“When Charlie questioned what power the king and queen wielded to force these people to abide by their principles, he settled on the hypothesis that the flow of the city required no force at all.”

The image presents Hosea and Vivian as a benevolent king and queen. Their rule requires no coercion or force, suggesting a society that’s inherently peaceful and unified. However, the reasons behind the machine and the event undercut the utopian atmosphere. Despite the seemingly organic harmony of Mobile, the city exists because of a violent rupture in history. This contrast raises questions about whether such a society can be truly sustainable or if it exists as a reaction to past oppression. Charlie’s observation highlights the tension between natural order and imposed structure, prompting reflection on whether true utopias can ever emerge from destruction. This quote reflects the theme of Creating Holistic, Inclusive Systems.

“What if you just let go of everything you’ve been taught about right and wrong—forget what your schoolteacher said, your church pastor; forget about your Girl Scout leader—and you just tried to feel right and wrong in your bones, in your heart.”

Nona reveals how notions of right and wrong become constructed. Authorities like teachers and preachers circulate morals, but the morals don’t exist in a vacuum: They relate to the respective society. Thus, if the society alters, so do the meanings of right and wrong. In Mobile, the society encourages agency, so Sidney must “feel” right and wrong for herself. This idea challenges the deeply ingrained moral structures that Sidney has inherited from her white upbringing. It suggests that moral intuition—especially for those historically marginalized—may be a more authentic guide than externally imposed systems. The quote also reflects Mobile’s broader ideological stance: the rejection of oppressive past structures in favor of self-determined values.

“Before the event, I was an actor. A good one too—Shakespeare, that was my shit!”

Malcolm’s story reveals an inclusive outlook on culture, with Malcolm appreciating the work of the white English author William Shakespeare. Malcolm doesn’t act in Shakespeare’s tragedy Macbeth (1623), but the play links to the power dynamic between Hosea and Vivian. In Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Macbeth’s husband, pushes Macbeth to perform increasingly destructive deeds so that he can become king and cement their power. In the novel, Vivian compels Hosea to use the machine despite its destructive consequences. Malcolm’s reference to Shakespeare also underscores the novel’s interrogation of Blackness and cultural inheritance. Just as Malcolm claims ownership of Shakespeare—a figure often associated with whiteness—the novel itself challenges who gets to claim what in a post-event world and raises the questions of whether white culture can still belong to Black people or if true liberation requires shedding all remnants of the old world. Malcolm’s enthusiasm for Shakespeare suggests that culture is not inherently racialized, but rather, its gatekeepers dictate access.

“[Sidney] saw her mother standing in the field, close enough to smell […] but when her mother turned, she was no longer Sidney’s mother but a dark-skinned woman, dressed all in rags, and it wasn’t lavender she picked but cotton”

The image reveals the link between the magical realism genre and history. Sidney is having a dreamlike moment, yet the imagery contains a real truth—as Sidney’s father is Black, she likely had ancestors who were enslaved in the United States. This moment also marks a turning point in Sidney’s racial consciousness—her subconscious forces her to confront the past she had been avoiding. The transformation of her mother into an enslaved Black woman reveals how personal and collective histories intertwine, challenging Sidney’s perception of herself as separate from Black trauma. The sensory detail (“close enough to smell”) makes the vision visceral and undeniable, reinforcing that memory—both inherited and lived—cannot be erased.

“The signal of our fractured consciousness. All those emotions, memory, and vengeance heavy as a storm in the sky. It’s a message. A feeling. A signal. It’s everything we felt and couldn’t say repressed in a frequency. Just here in America, we’re talking over four hundred years, man, generations upon generations, tortured, raped, possessed.”

Hosea’s description of the machine turns it into a symbol of Black consciousness. The machine unleashes the “400 years” of trauma, and the collective horror becomes a “storm” that propels white people—the people who represent the benefactors of the racist system—to drown themselves. The machine’s power is not just historical—it is ancestral, embodying the voices of those who were silenced, yet never truly gone.

“The event, Sailor. That machine in his garage. It was the bomb, the bomb that went off in people’s hearts.”

Charlie expands upon the symbolism of the machine. In conversation with Sailor, he portrays it as a “bomb.” Once the figurative weapon exploded, the people who supposedly maintained the racist system couldn’t live with themselves, so they died by suicide. The description reframes the machine not as a simple device but as a catalyst for psychological warfare. The event did not physically destroy infrastructure but obliterated the internalized illusions of innocence, forcing those complicit in oppression to confront their own darkness.

“Change is coming, and memory always prevails.”

The queen’s words stick with Sidney, as Vivian’s phrase appears three different times in Chapter 34. The quote brings together the past and future. Vivian indicates that change happens by engaging with history, not cutting it off. Memory becomes both a burden and a guidepost—what was lost cannot be undone, but it can be reclaimed and redefined. The repetition of this phrase suggests that true transformation is slow, cyclical, and inescapable.

“You expected everyone to actually be white, didn’t you? […] White isn’t a race, it’s an idea. People who still cling to it, they’re here.”

Fela’s quote alludes to the construct of race. That is, people see a skin color, and they attach values and meaning to it. Thus, anyone can be white because white isn’t a tangible skin color but an idea. In the story, the series of beliefs that constitute whiteness are negative. This insight aligns with the novel’s broader critique of systemic oppression—whiteness is not inherent but performed, sustained through social structures rather than biology. The survival of Orange Beach suggests that whiteness, as an ideology, is resilient and adaptive, even in the absence of white bodies.

“I don’t hate white people. I hate the whole world for letting what happened to us go on the way it did.”

Tau scrambles the binary presentation of “us” and “them” and Black trauma versus white culpability. He holds the “whole world” accountable for not intervening and stopping the centuries of systematic racism. Here, the blame includes innumerable types of people and ideas, not only white people. His words reject a simplistic view of blame, acknowledging that oppression is upheld not just by individuals but by global inaction, complicity, and systemic neglect. This perspective forces a reckoning with historical passivity, where silence itself becomes an act of violence.

“Carltons and fake-ass Meg Ryans everywhere.”

Tau’s description of the Orange Beach community is humorous, and it relies on knowledge of 90s pop culture. Carlton Banks is a Black character from the 90s sitcom The Fresh Prince of Bel Air (1990-96). The recurring joke is that Carlton acts like a white person. Meg Ryan starred in many predominantly white romantic comedies, such as Sleepless in Seattle (1993) and You’ve Got Mail (1998). Tau’s comparison underscores how whiteness, as an identity, can be performed and how cultural assimilation can strip away authenticity. His dismissive tone reveals disdain for those who cling to old ways of thinking, highlighting how Orange Beach represents an outdated, escapist ideology rather than a true refuge.

“He saw blackness not monolithic but wide, deep, offering all the space required to be included. All the space to imagine, experience, and become.”

Charlie’s vision of Blackness opens it up and counters the binary formula that often appears in the story. Blackness isn’t “monolithic” but inclusive. Arguably, the image suggests that Blackness, too, is an idea, but an idea centered on diversity. His realization signals a major shift in his understanding of identity—Blackness is not just historical trauma, but a vast, evolving force of possibility. This moment challenges previous portrayals of race in the novel, affirming that Black identity is expansive rather than constraining, fluid rather than fixed.

“‘I’m okay, don’t worry,’ she said into the darkness. ‘I just need time and space.’”

Sidney speaks to the stars to send a message to her father. The moment reinforces the magical realism of the story, and it links to a romantic view of nature, with Sidney surrendering to nature and putting herself in its hands. Her choice to speak into the darkness suggests a reconciliation with the unknown—unlike earlier in the novel, where darkness symbolized fear and confusion, here it becomes a source of connection, a limitless expanse where she can define herself on her own terms. This quote reflects Sidney’s realization of The Search for Unified Identity.