A Month of Novellas, Book 8: The House on Mango Street - Sandra Cisneros (1984)

in bedroom

You know how sometimes you read a book and you become jealous because you wished you'd written it?

No. 
Just me?

Well, that's how I felt about The House on Mango Street.

It's such a wonder of a little book. A series of vignettes really, all about Esperanza Cordero, or Hope Lamb, if we were to go all Anglo and translate her name from the Spanish.
Hmm, Lamb of Hope. Seems fitting for a girl who yearns to escape her surroundings.

But even if its' made up of more than 40 separate stories, they all mesh together to tell the wondrous story of Esperanza.

I say wondrous, but nothing much happens here. A young child of immigrants is witness to the comings and goings of her neighborhood. She sees some of her classmates grow up far too quickly and tries to stem the tide of young adulthood in herself by trying to remain innocent for as long as she can.

She relates all the stories of those that never get to speak out loud, at least not to outsiders. The mother who could've been somebody, the child-bride, the homesick Mamacita, Aunt Lupe of the limp legs. They all get to speak through her, through her stories.

This book has deservedly won awards and is taught in thousands of schools. But if you're reading this and somehow haven't read it, like I never had up until now, please do yourself a favor and buy it, borrow it, read it over someone's shoulder on the subway, whichever way you can. You can thank me later.