The House on Mango Street

Sandra Cisneros's novel The House on Mango Street has little in the way of overarching plot or story arc, or even, seemingly, a point. At first glance, it appears as a simple collection of anecdotes and images that read like poetry. Indeed, rather than a novel, it could be likened to a book of prose poetry written on a common theme. In the introduction, Cisneros says that she wanted a reader to be able to open to any page and read without needing context. She wrote dialogue without quotation marks because she thought they were clunky and obtrusive. The effect is a relaxing, smooth style that makes each story feel more like a memory than immediate events, despite the present tense. When each story is pieced together, it tells the story of Esperanza's childhood in the first house her family owned. As she matures, she continues to dream of a house of her own, where she can live and write in peace, though she realizes that she will never be able to leave Mango Street behind her entirely.
At first I was thrown by the unconventional format, but the gorgeous language and detail more than made up for the initial uncertainty. "Four Skinny Trees," a section in which Esperanza compares herself to the trees she sees outside her window, is rich in poetic devices and symbolism, and is my favorite section both for its message of perseverance and the music in it. There are few recurring characters; most appear only in one section. No matter how briefly described, however, each character is given life in a way that sticks: life through a line of dialogue, the contents of a room, their appearance, or their house.
This is a novel I intend to revisit for inspiration, whether I need it to write, to calm myself, or to renew my own dreams. The strength found in Esperanza and her story is a strength I want for myself.