The angels and “magical powers” mentioned throughout the novel represent the idea that love and emotional support can sustain people in ways that often feel magical. When Kenny is drowning in the whirlpool, he sees a vision of Joey dressed as an angel. This angelic version of Joey tells Kenny to swim toward the surface of the water, thus encouraging him to keep fighting against the strong current keeping him in the depths of the river. Similarly, Joey claims that Kenny came to her church on the day of the bombing and led her to safety just before the bomb went off—but this version of Kenny was wearing different clothes than the real Kenny. What’s more, Kenny later realizes that, although magic might not exist in the elaborate, outlandish way that he used to think, it does exist in other, more ordinary ways. He insists that there’s something magic in the way his father accepts him even when he makes mistakes, or in the way his mother fusses over him to make sure he doesn’t have a smudge on his face. On the whole, then, there’s one commonality between all of the novel’s talk about angels and magic: love. In moments of danger, both Kenny and Joey were motivated to seek out safety because they thought of each other, seeing their loving siblings as a guiding force of sorts. And when Kenny thinks about how magic exists in the everyday interactions he has with his family members, he’s really thinking about how love is a beautiful thing. After all, it’s this exact kind of familial love that convinces him to stop hiding behind the couch by himself after the church bombing, ultimately helping him accept that, though the world is full of cruelty and ugliness, it’s also full of love and kindness—which feels like a magical thing in and of itself.
Angels and Magical Powers Quotes in The Watsons Go to Birmingham—1963
He was also very wrong about there not being anything like magic powers or genies or angels. Maybe those weren’t the things that could make a run-over dog walk without wobbling but they were out there.
Maybe they were in the way your father smiled at you even after you’d messed something up real bad. Maybe they were in the way you understood that your mother wasn’t trying to make you the laughing “sock” of the whole school when she’d call you over in front of a bunch of your friends and use spit on her finger to wipe the sleep out of your eyes. Maybe it was magic powers that let you know she was just being Momma. Maybe they were the reason that you really didn’t care when the kids would say, “Yuck! You let your momma slob on you?” and you had to say, “Shut up. That’s my momma, we got the same germs.”