English
Section
Sandra Cisneros: Her new book, her new
look
- by María Newman
These days, Sandra Cisneros is
relaxed when she walks through Breckenridge Park in San
Antonio, her dog Violeta on a leash. She can talk at length
about her new way of eating healthy, about the exercise
program that has helped her get in the best shape since high
school, and about her battles to convince town officials to
let her keep her Victorian house in the King William section
of this city a whimsical purple color.
A few years ago, she wouldn’t have sounded so relaxed.
Alfred A. Knopf has just published her second novel,
Caramelo, an ambitious book about her father and the
generations before him and after him, a book that took
almost a decade to write. But it is not only the story of a
family. It is also a 450-page history of Mexico-U.S.
relations and pop culture and how the histories of the two
countries formed the lives of one family—and thousands of
others—who moved fluidly back and forth between two worlds.
While nine years may not be unusual for a book of this
scale, sometimes even Cisneros wondered where the project
was going. “There were times during the process of writing
this book that I really was lost,’’ she said. “In the fifth
year and sixth year I was in deep despair. I was very
blocked and frightened by the deadline and the enormity of
what I had created. I was just trying to tell a simple tale
and it had just gotten all out of hand.’’
But she persevered, and the result is a book of great depth
that is the sum of the wisdom and maturity as a writer that
Cisneros seems to have acquired since 1984, when her first
novel, The House on Mango Street, was published. In
Caramelo, she empties her notebook and her heart on issues
that she has been musing on all of her life: love, her
father, the relationship between fathers and daughters, the
relationship of a Mexican man with his wife and mother, and
the spider’s web of memory and remembrance and the music
that accompanied them.
While House on Mango Street, a story of the coming of age of
a young Mexican American girl growing up in Chicago, was
inspired by the stories of her students when she was
teaching, Caramelo is more about her own life. Cisneros is
one of seven children born to a Mexican father, an
upholsterer, and Mexican-American mother who raised their
children in Chicago but traveled to Mexico City often to
visit her father’s mother. The family in Caramelo fits that
description. But the similarities end more or less there.
“This is not a family memoir,’’ she said in a telephone
interview. “A lot of people are going to take it as that.
They always take all my writing as factual. It’s fact-based,
but I just use it as a springboard.’’
Much has happened to Cisneros since Mango Street was
published. Trained as a poet, Cisneros worked as a teacher
and college recruiter and spent her nights writing Mango
Street. She never imagined the success the book would have.
It has sold more than 2 million copies, making her the most
widely read Latina author. Her book is frequently on the
assigned reading lists for high school and college
literature and other courses, and well read by young Latinos
and others who hungered for stories they could relate to.
The seminal work turned her, almost overnight, into someone
everyone wanted to hear from, on all sorts of topics, from
immigration to literature. She won a McArthur grant for
geniuses. In 1991 she published Woman Hollering Creek, a
book of short stories. But with the newfound success, her
life came under more scrutiny.
When she painted her house in San Antonio’s historic King
Williams section Sherwin-Williams’ Corsican purple a few
years ago, the city’s Historic Design and Review Commission
ruled the color historically inappropriate. She eventually
prevailed, but Cisneros tires of the attention to her every
move.
In 1997, her father died of cancer and other complications.
Much has changed in the world of publishing for Latino
authors since 1984, when Arte Público Press in Houston.
published The House on Mango Street. Nicolás Kanellos,
director of Arte Público, the largest publisher of Latino
literature in the United States, said more mainstream houses
are “discovering” Latino writers. There are now Latino
imprints in major publishing houses, including Rayo, started
last year by HarperCollins, and Simon & Schuster, and some
of them have added Latino editors who understand the books
written by ethnic writers that sprinkle Spanish in with
English.
“The number of Latinos published in the United States today
are super underrepresented,” Kanellos said. “The mainstream
houses are publishing just a couple a year, maybe five to
six. Arte Público publishes about 30 a year. Maybe five to
six is not a lot, but it’s greatly changed from zero.”
Kanellos said Cisneros’ first book was published around the
time when more universities were revising their core
curriculums and were looking for ethnic writers to represent
cultures that had been ignored. That’s the niche many Latino
writers have filled. But that has not yet translated into
acceptance by the big chain of bookstores, who do not find
books by Latino writers as big enough draws to make it to
their profit-line focused shelves.
Rene Alegría, of Rayo, said that with the latest Census
showing the Latino population at 35.5 million was growing by
leaps and bounds, and more Latinos clamoring for books about
them, the mainstream houses can’t help but react. He said
even the chain bookstores are hiring more Latinos at their
executive level.
“There is an explosion of Latino authors right now, and
they’re writing unabashedly about their multicultural
existence and making no apologies about it, but instead
celebrating it, and I find it exciting,” Alegría said.
Writer Julia Alvarez said she sometimes feels as if she and
Cisneros are among the viejitas of this genre of writing
because in 1984 when House came out and her first book of
poetry was published, “you had to go in search of this kind
of literature because only the small presses were paying
attention.”
“It’s sort of like Columbus discove-ring America. We were
already there,” she said. “But of course there’s nothing
like the mainstream publishing world announcing that this is
part of the literature, part of the American canon, and not
just a little minority blip over here that is not to be paid
attention to.”
It hasn’t hurt the genre that Cisneros and Alvarez remain
best sellers for their publishing houses. Anne Messitte,
vice president and publisher of Vintage Books, said The
House on Mango Street has been her company’s bestseller for
many years. This is why there is so much interest in
Caramelo.
Cisneros’ new book, which began with a short story meant for
Woman Hollering Creek, was to be a story about her father.
“I knew he was going to die when I was writing the book,’’
she said. “It was kind of a way to carry me through that
rite of passage.’’
Cisneros, who said she loved her father dearly, acknowledged
that they had many conflicts, mostly stemming from his
traditional view of how his only daughter should live:
namely, to live at home with her parents until she married.
It took him years to understand that her writing was a
serious undertaking.
“This book was for my father,’’ she said. “I didn’t know
what it was about when I began it. I was just trying to
write about a memory I had of a trip to Acapulco. Everything
else kind of mushroomed. I was interested in asking
questions that so many of us ask as daughters that we aren’t
allowed to ask. I created this story to fill in gaps so that
I could understand my father and to write his history.’’
And so the book became more than the story of one family. It
is also a tome of Mexican and American history, loaded with
footnotes and a chronology at the end. It is meatier than
House with a more complicated tale.
“When I wrote House, I was a very inexperienced fiction
writer because I was trained as a poet,’’ she said. “This
book is more crafted and more ambitious.
“With this book I wanted to expand and grow and do something
that I hadn’t done before and handle all the people that I
knew growing up, all the cousins and uncles, the family that
I could recall that I hadn’t written about in House because
that was not my focus.’’
Indeed, many of her family members will see themselves in
the book, but not exactly the real them. Her mother has read
the book only in dribs and drabs, “like arsenic,’’ Cisneros
said, perhaps because she is afraid of how the mother in the
book is depicted, even though it is not really her.
“It’s as if I took real people and made little puppets out
of them and made them do things that maybe they never did in
real life, but they probably are in character,’’ she said.
The tale is very much about a family that, like thousands in
this polyglot country, live in two places, two countries.
While she was writing, many news stories depicted the
heartbreak of immigration, such as Cubans leaving their
country on homemade rafts, some of them perishing at sea, or
Mexican immigrants suffocating to death in hot railroad
freight trains.
“There was also so much anti-immigrant sentiment in this
time,’’ she said. “People wanted me to speak out and be
there for lots of events and it was very hard to be
withdrawn and be quiet and work on the book.’’
Cisneros battled her way out of her writer’s block through
meditation, and by talking to writers of long works, such as
Eduardo Galeano and Dorothy Alison.
And she relied on her faith. She is a Buddhist, she says,
but with a sprinkling of Latino spiritual beliefs, including
a loyalty to the Virgen de Guadalupe. “I guess you could say
I’m a Buddhalupist,’’ she said, laughing.
But she also made it through to the end of the book by
returning to that unfinished short story, about a girl named
Candelaria with skin the color of caramelo. That section
became central to the novel, and it was based on a brief
memory Cisneros had of seeing such a girl in real life, in a
family trip to Acapulco.
“She was a mulatto, with this incredible colored skin that
I’d never seen before,’’ she said. “I saw her for a couple
of seconds in my life, and I wondered all these years why
she stayed with me. The title really belongs to that little
girl.’’ [* Hispanic Magazine] |