I’m not sure that I can talk about Ana Castillo’s recent novel The Guardians without discussing The Devil’s Highway, another recent book on a similar topic by Luis Alberto Urrea. Both books – Castillo’s novel and Urrea’s nonfiction – directly discuss the perils of immigrating to the United States via the Southwest border. Castillo sets her work in New Mexico, and tells the story of a family torn apart by the economic, social, and political boundaries that make immigration so difficult for Latino/as. Urrea, however, recounts the story of the death of 14 men who died in their attempt to cross through the Arizonian desert known as the Devil’s Highway. Urrea creates a work of creative nonfiction whereby he presents the results of his investigative research while illustrating what he knows with short vignettes about the lives of everyone involved in the incident (the immigrants, coyotes, Border Patrol officers, consuls, and so on).
Given that The Guardians has distinct and developed characters (four of whom are the book’s narrators), I expected to feel more attached to it than to The Devil’s Highway, but I discovered the opposite was true. The determined and strong Tía Regina is an intriguing figure, yes, and her nephew Gabriel (Gabo) is a tragic one, but I can’t say I formed a strong attachment to either of them or to the other two main characters Miguel and Milton. The disappearance of Regina’s brother and Gabo’s father Rafael during his attempt to cross into the US illegally is tragic, but despite the searching and shock they go through I had difficulty relating to their struggle. It was not until I began reading The Devil’s Highway that I realized that what was missing from the story was knowledge of the broader picture.
This is understandable because Guardians is narrated by characters with a limited viewpoints and knowledge. Castillo does try to inform her readers through the character of Miguel, a high school history teacher, but this and the brief flashbacks into the characters’ personal histories did not illuminate much. For instance, the reason why Regina’s family migrated to the US is implied (poverty), but it is never described. The knowledge of Rafa’s disappearance trying to cross the border makes Regina cry and Gabo turn all the more to his devout Catholic faith, but their inner emotion are not expressed, and their ties to Rafael are never accompanied by any real description of a relationship.
Luckily, The Devil’s Highway put some of this in perspective by giving the bigger picture of systematic poverty, skewed immigration policies, and bureaucratic inanity. The book has a huge cast of immigrants, citizens, smugglers, politicians, and officers, and there isn't room to describe everyone's background – but when Urrea describes something, he does so so poetically that even the smallest bit of information draws you in emotionally. Although Urrea manages to give a broader, more factual, and more emotional "big picture" account of border crossing, but when paired with Castillo’s "little picture" account of the daily life of those left behind, as uncompelling as it might be at times, makes both works better.
