The House on Mango Street Book Review

As I read the first few chapters of The House on Mango Street, I kept thinking to myself that I was simply appalled at how I was forced to endure Tangerine while in 8th grade. I simply don't remember a single thing about that book other than how miserable reading it made me (me! a voracious reader who literally read everything under the sun!). Every vignette in The House on Mango Street only solidified my belief that this is what I should have had the chance to read in 8th grade, because it would have changed my outlook on what writing and what stories can be. I think, if you ever have the chance to read The House on Mango Street, you should absolutely take it. 

Sandra Cisneros is a poet, short story writer, novelist, and essayist whose numerous awards include NEA fellowships in both poetry and fiction, the Texas Medal of the Arts, a MacArthur Fellowship, several honorary doctorates, and national and international book awards, including Chicago's Fifth Star Award, the PEN Center USA Literary Award, and the PEN/Nabokov Award for Achievement in International Literature. She is the recipient of the Ford Foundation's Art of Change Fellowship, was recognized among The Frederick Douglass 200, and was awarded the National Medal of the Arts by President Obama in 2016. Cisneros is the author of two novels, The House on Mango Street and Caramelo; a collection of short stories, Woman Hollering Creek; two books of poetry, My Wicked Wicked Ways and Loose Woman; a children's book, Hairs/Pelitos; a selected anthology of her own work, Vintage Cisneros; an autobiography, A House of My Own; and, with Ester Hernández, Have You Seen Marie?, a fable for adults. She is the founder of the Macondo Foundation, an association of writers united to serve underserved communities. You can find her online at sandracisneros.com. You can find more of my reviews of books on TIME's Top 100 YA Books of All Time list here. 

The House on Mango Street is the remarkable story of Esperanza Cordero, a young Latina girl growing up in Chicago, inventing for herself who and what she will become. Told in a series of vignettes—sometimes heartbreaking, sometimes deeply joyous—Sandra Cisneros' masterpiece is a classic story of childhood and self-discovery. Few other books in our time have touched so many readers.

The House on Mango Street is told in a collection of vignettes, some of which are longer than others, and when collated, examine pretty much every feeling under the sun. There's the desire for friendship, the understanding you can have with nature, the horror of people doing truly vile things to you and the ones you care about, and the joy that comes from living despite all of the negatives. While reading about Esperanza's childhood experience, there were elements of my own childhood I remembered, just because that's how powerfully Cisneros was able to write the emotions of growing up. The best things about the vignettes is how they can each stand alone, making them easy to digest in quick bursts, but how they all tie together to create a painting of what coming of age looks like. While some details may feel old now, reading it in 2023, there's a sense of timelessness that exists within, because the vignettes are focused on evoking feelings, rather than nostalgia for a particular era's specificities. 

My copy had a truly beautiful introduction that sold me on the book before I even started it. I had no idea that Sandra Cisneros graduated from the Iowa Writers' Workshop, and she spoke candidly of her experience there and her philosophy on writing. While reading, I felt homesick for Iowa (which may or may not have to do with Cisneros's recollection of her experience there) and felt that I understood what she was attempting to do with The House on Mango Street before reading a letter of it. I am particularly keen on how Cisneros's introduction ended in a way similar to Esperanza's story—the near-autobiographical element of the novel is what makes me trust so implicitly this rendering of coming of age, and what makes it the type of book that I know, had I read it while growing up, would have changed my own philosophy of writing and storytelling. 

Because I didn't get a chance to analyze this during school (which, I'm a nerd, I loved doing and still do!), I will speak about one thing here that I feel strongly about: the lack of quotation marks in dialogue. In some books (like Cormac McCarthy's All the Pretty Horses), the lack of quotation marks can be a confusing and frustrating experience. But in The House on Mango Street, I felt that this choice made perfect sense. Esperanza is recreating for readers what it felt like growing up, and growing up is something we experience inside our own heads. At the very least, these vignettes feel like someone's recollection of these moments, rather than a play-by-play of growing up. It makes sense that, as Esperanza recreates these experiences in her memory to go onto the page, that she wouldn't entirely remember the exact words said, and puts them on the page without the quotation marks to mark that. Cisneros is able to create a rhythm by not following the standard rules of punctuation, and to make a point that memory can be hazy, words can fall through the cracks, but the feelings we experienced during childhood will always irrevocably make their mark.

I wish I'd had the chance to read this growing up, or even to read it as part of a class in college as a study on writing, if only to expand my thoughts on the lack of quotation marks into a full-fledged essay. Alas, the world works in mysterious ways, and I am glad I had the chance to read The House on Mango Street, regardless of timing. You can find her online at sandracisneros.com. You can find more of my reviews of books on TIME's Top 100 YA Books of All Time list here. 

*This review can also be found on my Goodreads page*