This is a book that deals with the problem of migrants. We find out, from the very beginning, that the protagonist is a chicana, a Mexican-American girl. We learn that her family have moved several times, from place to place almost every year. Due to this context the girl had to endure the labeling of otherness, loneliness, isolation, sense of not belonging anywhere. The neighborhood is not what she wanted, so she dreams to ”have not a flat, not an apartment in back. Not a manʼs house. Not a daddyʼs. A house all my own. With my porch and my pillow, my pretty purple petunias. My books and my stories. My two shoes waiting beside the bed. Nobody to shake a stick at. Nobody garbage to pich up after. Only a house quiet as snow, a space for myself to go, clean as paper before the poem”. I really liked the episode in which Esperanza talks about her name which in English means hope. What is strange is that, according to her view, in Spanish the word has negative conotations (sadness, waiting, too many letters). Because she associates her name to her grandmother, we can find more details about chicana-females condition. We learn that she was born in the horse year, which is said to have bad luck. Actually this is a social prejudice because Mexican-men discourage women from being strong like horses or possessing any kind of power. The effect was that her grandmother ”looked out the window her whole life, the way so many women sit their sadness on an elbow. I wonder if she made the best with what she got or was she sorry because she couldnʼt be all the things she wanted to be. Esperanza. I have inherited her name, but I donʼt want to inherit her place by the window”. What is surprizing about this book is its structure and musicality. It is really –readable- because it consists of short chapters that seem to be randomly connected to each other. These ”lazy poems” seem to create a story like a collage. As the author mentions in the introduction: ”the language in Mango Street is based on speech. It is very much an antiacademic voice-a childʼs voice, a girlʼs voice, a spoken voice, the voice of an American-Mexican. Itʼs in this rebellious realm of antipoetics that I tried to create a poetic text with the most unofficial language I could find. This kind of writing has, of course, its benefits: I wrote these stories that way, guided by my heart and by my ear. Writing in a younger voice allowed me to name that thing without a name, that shame of being poor, of being female, of being not quite good enough, and examine where it had come from and why, so I could exchange shame for celebration”. Related to musicality and rhythm, we can notice from the beginning sentences that seem to be part from a poem. For example in the chapter Hairs, if we select some sentences we can obtain lines of poetry: ”there was a family. All were little. Their arms were little and their hands were little, and their heights was not tall, and their feet very small”.
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