The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros

 

The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros is a series of lyrical vignettes about the life of Esperanza Cordero, a young girl growing up in the Latino section of Chicago. She tells stories about the people and events in her neighborhood, the good, the bad, and the ones where people end up with broken bones or going to jail. It hasn't been such I read Heating & Cooling that the sheer brilliance of the writing of a book forced me to realize that I'll never write any prose half as good. 

I would categorize this as young adult in that the book is divided into short one- to four-page snapshots and the whole thing is just over one hundred pages. I read it all in one sitting and found it absorbing and beautiful. I mean, it's a tough read at times, with abuse, rape, death, and all the hard topics that would be found in any city neighborhood, but I understand why this is considered a modern classic. In very few words and pages, Cisneros writes brilliant character studies and makes incisive observations that will stick with you long after you close the book.

Huge thumbs up. 5/5 stars

Lines of note:

Nenny is too young to be my friend. She's just my sister and that was not my fault. You don't pick your sisters, you just get them and sometimes they come out like Nenny.  (page 8)

You really don't get to choose your family. I like when authors take this on.

At school they say my name funny as if the syllables were made out of tin and hurt the roof of your mouth. (page 11)

Syllables made out of tin. The poetic nature of the writing just makes this whole book sing.

The dog is big, like a man dressed in a dog suit, and runs the same way its owner does, clumsy and wild and with the limbs flopping all over the place like untied shoes. (page 21)

Has Cisneros seen my dog run?

She takes Bobo for a walk and laughs all by herself, that Ruthie. She doesn't need anybody to laugh with, she just laughs. (page 67)

I mean, who here hasn't just laughed while walking their dog? There are REASONS.  Probably.

Their strength is secret. They send ferocious roots beneath the ground. They grow up and they grow down and grab the earth between their hairy toes and bit the sky with violent teeth and never quit their anger. This is how they keep...

When I am too sad and too skinny to keep keeping, when I am a tiny thing against so many bricks, then it is I look at trees. When there is nothing left to look at on this street. Four who grew despite concrete. Four who reach and do not forget to reach. Four whose only reason is to be and be. (page 74-75)

I can't tell you how much I enjoyed the imagery in this book.