It was a sunshine wonderland outside today. For much of the afternoon, I was feeling depressed that I was stuck working in a dimly lit coffee shop rather than on top of a mountain or swimming or having a picnic etc. But then I started reading "The House on Mango Street" by Sandra Cisneros and fell in love. I literally read the whole thing cover to cover. It. is. so. good.
Maybe you've read it or heard about it (it's very popular, I'd just never gotten around to reading it until today). If you haven't, you need to go pick it up. The language is so beautiful it makes me want to cry. The way Cisneros writes is delicious...she has these long, indulgent sentences that run into each other and then these awesome jabbing stops of emotion that take your breath away. The book is about a young girl growing up in the Latino section of Chicago and is written in short vignettes. There is so much going on in this small collection - the awkwardness of growing up, poverty, creating an image, abuse, education, religion, defining "home". Each story is steeped in some of the most brilliant imagery I've read in a long long time. I am so taken by this book and am left unable to stop thinking about it.
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