Simply put, I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Having been a substitute teacher in several high schools in the City of Chicago, I saw The House on Mango Street in many of them. It seems that the title has always circulated and floated around me, even before I saw the book on the shelves in classrooms of English and Language Arts teachers. The day I was able to read it has forever changed me. I could not put it down, and by the time I had two chapters left to read, the bell rang, and it was time for me to go home. My next stop that very same day was the library, and I spent the next couple of weeks reading and studying this amazing little book. Rather than read where I’d left off, I started over from the beginning. In doing so, I was compelled to deep-dive. Besides being entertaining, it is a masterclass in writing and characterization.
The introduction is poignant with such profound insight into the author’s mind. Not only will readers appreciate the stories to come, but for readers who are also writers, they are gold. Cisneros captivates from the first sentence. Pointing the reader to her photograph, she provides a clear narrative about herself, her family, and neighborhood. She puts us, the reader, right next to herself and arm-in-arm, walks us around. She is our tour guide. Set in Chicago, she gives the natives something special - not just with imagery, but her olfactory writing skills give rise to familiarity. The smells waft from the page. When she introduces her parents, we see they are instrumental in shaping her, and she honors them. We see her honesty. We see her fears. We see her. Whimsical, strong-minded, and daring, we meet the author through her prose in 3rd person. Clear in her purpose, she gives readers a special look into her why, and I reiterate her notion that “writing stories should mean something.” Some parts feel like a peek into her diary. They feel intimate. Through her observation of beauty in broken/unfinished things, we glimpse part of her personality. This becomes, perhaps, a metaphor for the beauty she sees in the women of the book. Themes of shame and oppression are staples in the novel, but Cisneros doesn’t abandon her readers there. Woven with feelings of joy and overcoming, it makes perfect sense to dedicate it “to the women.”
Creating bite-sized chapters, Cisneros is fearless. She sees the world as a painter might. One such example is when she describes the turning ropes in Double Dutch as,“When the two arcs open wide like jaws” (p. 51). And on why she regularly met with a group of writers, her words, “...the world we live in is a house on fire and the people we love are burning” (p. xviii) sums up why writers simply can not write. In the chapter, “And Some More,” there is a heated argument between characters. The reader can feel tension and hear yelling with barely an exclamation point. Cisneros writes, “...the family that spoke like guitars” (p. 94) to describe a family with a southern accent. Sure. Guitars twang. Her stories are rich, and the characters are relatable. So relatable, in fact, that I recognized children I grew up with described in “There Was an Old Woman She Had So Many Children She Didn’t Know What to Do.” Beautifully written with the fewest words imaginable, the book is touching, vivid, and, at times, funny. Readers will wince, fight back tears, and laugh out loud. We feel what the characters feel. I marvel, time after time, at how she could evoke such strong emotions from her readers in such a short line or phrase.
Thank you, Ms. Cisneros, for your brilliant little book and the lessons within. With them come voices of inspiration and the assurance that somewhere, somehow, we writers will find our own. Seamless, your writing flows like water; smooth and uninhibited. Kinda like you.
