The House on Mango Street

            A compilation of short vignettes. Hardly a novel. Hardly even a story. The only other book I have ever read that compares to The House on Mango Street is The Things They Carried by Tim O’ Brien. However, I loved that book. There was somewhat of a connection between each story. Readers only had to fill in 50% of the plot, not the entire thing.

            As you could probably tell, I did not enjoy this book in the least. I would read a story, be introduced to a character, then not see that character again. Did they ever interact with Esperanza again? Probably. Were we told about it? For the most part, nope.

            I am trying to put my finger on what exactly made me disinterested with Esperanza and her story. The more I think about it, the more I can’t think of anything. I guess that it has to do with the fact that Sandra Cisneros took Hemingway’s iceberg theory and utilized it to the max…by telling us essentially nothing. Throughout the entire story, I felt like I was inserting every detail of Esperanza’s life on my own.

            I just read my last statement again and realized how lazy I am. I didn’t enjoy this book because I didn’t like having to think hard enough to provide details for Esperanza on my own. I know that I am an imaginative and creative person, so this book should have been a field day for my brain. But it wasn’t. This is probably because I was tired when I was reading it.

            I never really think out what I am writing in my blogs. What comes to my mind comes out on paper. So, I am having this realization to myself while I write this.

            Because of my dislike for this book, I don’t really have much more to write. After thinking through my laziness, I may have to take another look at The House on Mango Street in hopes that I could truly appreciate the work.