Chapter 1 Hairs
Everybody in our family has different hair. My Papa's hair is like a broom, all up in the air. And me, my hair is lazy. It never obeys barrettes or bands. Carlos' hair is thick and straight. He doesn't need to comb it. Nenny's hair is slippery——slides out of your hand. And Kiki, who is the youngest, has hair like fur.
But my mother's hair, my mother's hair, like little rosettes, like little candy circles all curly and pretty because she pinned it in pincurls all day, sweet to put your nose into when she is holding you, holding you and you feel safe, is the warm smell of bread before you bake it, is the smell when she makes room for you on her side of the bed still warm with her skin, and you sleep near her, the rain outside falling and Papa snoring. The snoring, the rain, and Mama's hair that smells like bread.
Chapter 2 Darius & The Clouds
You can never have too much sky. You can fall asleep and wake up drunk on sky, and sky can keep you safe when you are sad. Here there is too much sadness and not enough sky. Butterflies too are few and so are flowers and most things that are beautiful. Still, we take what we can get and make the best of it.
Darius, who doesn't like school, who is sometimes stupid and mostly a fool, said something wise today, though most days he says nothing. Darius, who chases girls with firecrackers or a stick that touched a rat and thinks he's tough, today pointed up because the world was full of clouds, the kind like pillows.
You all see that cloud, that fat one there? Darius said, See that? Where? That one next to the one that look like popcorn. That one there. See that. That's God, Darius
said.God? somebody little asked. God, he said, and made it simple.
Chapter 3 Four Skinny Trees
They are the only ones who understand me. I am the only one who understands them. Four skinny trees with skinny necks and pointy elbows like mine. Four who do not belong here but are here. Four raggedy excuses planted by the city. From our room we can hear them, but Nenny just sleeps and doesn't appreciate these things.
Their strength is secret. They send ferocious roots beneath the ground. They grow up and they grow down and grab the earth between their hairy toes and bite the sky with violent teeth and never quit their anger. This is how they keep. Let one forget his reason for being, they'd all droop like tulips in a glass, each with their arms around the other. Keep, keep, keep, trees say when I sleep. They teach.
When I am too sad and too skinny to keep keeping, when I am a tiny thing against so many bricks, then it is I look at trees. When there is nothing left to look at on this street. Four who grew despite concrete. Four who reach and do not forget to reach. Four whose only reason is to be and be.
Chapter 4 Cathy Queen of Cats
Cathy who is queen of cats has cats and cats and cats. Baby cats, big cats, skinny cats, sick cats. Cats asleep like little donuts. Cats on top of the refrigerator. Cats taking a walk on the dinner table. Her house is like cat heaven.
You want a friend, she says. Okay, I'll be your friend. But only till next Tuesday. That's when we move away. Got to. Then as if she forgot I just moved in, she says the neighborhood is getting bad.
Cathy's father will have to fly to France one day and find her great great distant grand cousin on her father's side and inherit the family house. How do I know this is so? She told me so. In the meantime they'll just have to move a little farther north from Mango Street, a little farther away every time people like us keep moving in.
Chapter 5 A house of my own
Not a flat. Not an apartment in back. Not a man's house. Not a daddy's. 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's garbage to pick up after. Only a house quiet as snow, a space for myself to go, clean as paper before the poem.
Chapter 7 The House on Mango Street 1
We didn't always live on Mango Street. Before that we lived on Loomis on the third floor, and before that we lived on Keeler. Before Keeler it was Paulina, and before that I can't remember. But what I remember most is moving a lot. Each time it seemed there'd be one more of us. By the time we got to Mango Street we were six ——Mama, Papa, Carlos, Kiki, my sister Nenny and me. The house on Mango Street is ours, and we don't have to pay rent to anybody, or share the yard with the people down stairs, or be careful not to make too much noise, and there isn't a landlord banging on the ceiling with a broom. But even so, it's not the house we'd thought we'd get. We had to leave the flat on Loomis quick. The water pipes broke and the landlord wouldn't fix them because the house was too old. We had to leave fast. We were using the washroom next door and carrying water over in empty milk gallons. That's why Mama and Papa looked for a
house, and that's why we moved into the house on Mango Street, far away, on the other side of town.
Chapter 8 The House on Mango Street 2
They always told us that one day we would move into a house, a real that would be ours for always so we wouldn't have to move each year. And our house would have running water and pipes that worked. And inside it would have real stairs, not hallway stairs, but stairs inside like the house on T.V.And we'd have a basement and at least three washrooms so when we took a bath we wouldn't have to tell everybody. Our house would be white with trees around it, a great big yard and grass growing without a fence. This was the house Papa talked about when he held a lottery ticket and this was the house mama dreamed up in the stories she told us before we went to bed.
Chapter 9 The House on Mango Street 3
But the house on Mango Street is not the way they told it at all. It's small and red with tight steps in front and windows so small you'd think they were holding their breath. Bricks are crumbling in places, and the front door is so swollen you have to push hard to get in. There is no front yard, only four little elms the city planted by the curb. Our back is a small garage for the car we don't own yet and a small yard that looks smaller between the two buildings on either side. There are stairs in our house, but they're ordinary hallway stairs, and the house has only one washroom. Everybody has to share a bedroom—Mama and Papa, Carlos and Kiki, me and Nenny.
Chapter 10 The House on Mango Street 4
Once when we were living on Loomis, a nun from my school passed by and saw me playing out front. The Laundromat downstairs had been boarded up because it had been robbed two days before and the owner had painted on the wood YES WE'RE OPEN so as not lose business.
Where do you live? She asked. There, I said pointing up to the third floor. You live there?
There. I had to look to where she pointed –——the third floor, the paint peeling, wooden bars Papa had nailed on the windows so we wouldn't fall out. You live there? The way she said it made me feel like nothing. There. I lived there. I nodded.
I knew then I had to have to house. A real house. One I could point to .but this isn't it. The house on Mango Street isn't it. For the time being, Mama says. Temporary, says Papa. But I know how those things go.
Chapter 11 The boys and girls 1
The boys and the girls live in separate world. The boys in their universe and we in ours. My brothers for example. They've got plenty to say to me and Nenny inside the house. But outside they can't be seen talking to girls. Carlos and Kiki are each other's best friend…not ours.
Nenny is too young to be my friend. She's just my sister and that was not my fault. You don't pick your sisters, you just get them and sometimes they come like Nenny.
Chapter 12 The boys and girls 2
She can't play with those Vargas kids or she'll turn our just like them. And since she comes right after me, she is my responsibility.
Someday I will have a best friend all my own. One I can tell my secrets to. One who will understand my jokes without my having to explain them. Until then I am a red balloon, a balloon tied to an anchor.
Chapter 13 My name 1
In English my name means hope. In Spanish it means too many letters. It means sadness, it means waiting. It is like the number nine. A muddy color. It is the Mexican records my father plays on Sunday mornings when he is shaving, songs like sobbing.
It was my great-grandmother's name and now it is mine. She was a horse woman too, born like me in the Chinese year of horse—which is supposed to be bad luck if you're born female—but I think this is a Chinese lie because the Chinese, like the Mexicans, don't like their women strong.
My great-grandmother. I would've liked to have known her, a wild horse of a woman, so wild she wouldn't marry. Until my great-grandfather threw a sack over her head and carried her off. Just that, as if she were a fancy chandelier. That's the way he did it.
Chapter 14 My name 2
And the story goes she never forgave him. She 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 dory because she couldn`t be all the things she wanted to be. Esperanza. I have inherited her name, but I don't want to inherit her place by the window.
At school they say my name funny as if the syllables were made out of tin and hurt the roof of your mouth. But in Spanish my name is made out of a softer something, like silver, not quite as thick as sister`s name—Magdalena——which is uglier than mine. Magdalena who at least can come home and become Nenny. But I am always Esperanza.
I would like to baptize myself under a new name, a name more like the real me, the one nobody see. Esperanza as Lasiandra or Maritza or Zeze the X.Yes. something like Zeze the X will do.
Chapter 15 Cathy Queen of Cats 1
She says, I am the great great grand cousin of the queen of France. She lives upstairs, over there, next door to Joe the baby-grabber. Keep away from him, she says. He is full of danger. Benny and Blanca own the corner store. They're okay except don't lean on the candy counter. Two girls raggedy as rats live across the street. You don't want to know them. Edna is the lady who owns the building next to you. She used to own a building big as a whale, but her brother sold it. Their mother said no, no, don't ever sell it.
I won't. And then she closed her eyes and he sold it. Alicia is stuck-up ever since she went to college. She used to like me but now she doesn't.
Cathy who is queen of cats has cats and cats and cats. Baby cats, big cats, skinny cats, sick cats. Cats asleep like little donuts. Cats on top of the refrigerator. Cats taking a walk on the dinner table. Her house is like cat heaven.
Chapter 16 Cathy Queen of Cats 2
You want a friend, she says. Okay, I'll be your friend. But only till next Tuesday. That's when we move away. Got to. Then as if she forgot I just moved in, she says the neighborhood is getting bad.
Cathy's father will have to fly to France one day and find her great great distant grand cousin on her father's side and inherit the family house. How do I know this is so? She told me so. In the meantime they'll just have to move a little farther north from Mango Street, a little farther away every time people like us keep moving in.
Chapter 17 Our good days 1
If you give me five dollars I will be your friend forever. That's what the little one tells me.
Five dollars is cheap since I don't have any friends except Cathy who is only my friend till Tuesday.
Five dollars, five dollars.
She is trying to get some body to chip in so they can buy a bicycle form this kid named Tito. They already have ten dollars and all they need is five more.
Don't talk to them, says Cathy. Can't you see they smell like a broom.
But I like them. Their clothes are crooked and old. They are wearing shiny Sunday shoes without socks. It makes their bald ankles all red, but I like them. Especially the big one who laughs with all her teeth. I like her even though she lets the little one do all the talking.
Five dollars, the little one says, only five.
Chapter 18 Our good days 2
Cathy is tugging my arm and I know whatever I do next will make her mad forever.
Wait a minute, I say, and run inside to get the five dollars I have three dollars saved and I take two of Nenny's. She's not home, but I'm sure she'll be glad when she finds out we own a bike. When I get back, Cathy is gone like I knew she would be , but I don't care. I have two new friends and a bike too.
My name is Lucy, the big one says. This here is Rachel my sister.
I'm her sister, says Rachel. Who are you?
And I wish my name was Cassandra or Alexis or Maritza—anything but Esperanza —but when I tell them my name they don't laugh.
Chapter 19 Our good days 3
We come from Texas, Lucy says and grins. Her was born here, but me I'm Texas.
You mean she, I says.
No, I'm from Texas, and doesn't get it.
This bike is three ways ours, says Rachel who is thinking ahead already. Mine today,
Lucy's tomorrow and yours day after.
But everybody wants to ride it today because the bike is new, so we decide to take turns after tomorrow. Today is belongs to all of us.
Chapter 20 Our good days 4
But everybody wants to ride it today because the bike is new, so we decide to take turns after tomorrow. Today it belongs to all of us.
I don't tell them about Nenny just yet. It's too complicated. Especially since Rachel almost put out Lucy's eye about who was going to get to ride it first. But finally we agree to ride it together. Why not?
Because Lucy has long legs she pedals. I sit on the back seat and Rachel is skinny enough to get up on the handlebars which makes the bike all wobble as if the wheels are spaghetti, but after a bit you get used to it.
Chapter 21 Our good days 5
We ride fast and faster. Past my house, sad and red and crumbly in places, past Mr. Benny's grocery on the corner, and down the avenue which is dangerous. Laundoromat, junk store, drugstore, windows and cars and more cars , and around the block back to Mango.
People on the bus wave. A very fat lady crossing the street says. You sure got quite a load there.
Rachel shouts. You got quite a load there too. She is very sassy.
Down, down Mango Street we go. Rachel, Lucy, me. Our new bicycle. Laughing the crooked ride back.
Chapter 22 Laughter
Nenny and I don't look like sisters…not right away. Not the way you can tell with Rachel and Lucy who have the same fat popsicle lips everybody else in their family. But me and Nenny, we are more alike than you would know. Our laughter for example. Not the shy ice cream bells' giggle of Rachel and Lucy's' family, but all of a sudden and surprise like a pile of dishes breaking. And other things I can't explain.
One day we were passing a house that looked, in my mind, like house I had seen in Mexico. I don't know why. There was nothing about the house that looked exactly like the house I remembered. I'm not even sure why I thought it, but it seemed to feel right.
Look at the house, I said, it looks like Mexico.
Rachel and Lucy look at me like I'm crazy, but before they can let out a laugh, Nenny says: Yes, that's Mexico all right. That's what I was thinking exactly.
Chapter 24 Meme Ortiz
Around the back is a yard, mostly dirt,and a greasy bunch of boards that used to be a garage. but what you families of squirrels in the higher branches. All around, the nighborhood of roofs, black-tarred and A-framed, and in their gutters, the balls that never came back down to earth. Down at the base of the tree, the dog with two names barks into the empty air, and there at the end of the block, looking smaller still, our
house with its feet tucked under like a cat.
This is the tree we chose for the First Annual Tarzan Jumping Contest. Meme won. And borke both arms.
Chapter 25 Louie,His Cousin&His Other Cousin
Louie's girl cousin is older than us. She lives with Louie's family because her own family is in Puerto Rico. Her name is Marin or Maris or something like that, and she wears dark nylons all the time and lots of makeup she gets free from selling Avon. She can't come out _gotta baby-sit with Louie's sisters- but she stands in the doorway a lot, all the time singing, clicking her fingers, the same song:
Apples, peaches, pumpkin pah-ay
You're in love and so am ah-ay
Louie's has another cousin. We only saw him once, but it was important. We were playing volleyball in the alley when he drove up in this great big yellow Cadillac whitewalls and a yellow scarf tied around the mirror. Louie's cousin has his arm out the window. He honked a couple of times and a lot of faces looked out from Louie's back window and then a lot of people came out—Louie, Marin and all the little sisters.
Chapter 26 Marin
We never see Marin until her aunt comes home from work, and even then she can only stay out in front. She is there every night with the radio. When the light in her aunt's room goes out, Marin lights a cigarette and it doesn't matter if it's cold out or if the radio
doesn't work or if we've got nothing to say to each other. What matters, Marin says, is for the boys to see us and for us to see them. And since Marin's skirts are shorter and since her eyes are pretty, and since Marin is already older than us in many ways, the boys who do pass by say stupid things like I am in love with those two green apples you call eyes, give them to me why don't you. And Marin just looks at them without even blinking and is no afraid.
Marin, under the streetlight, dancing by herself, is singing the same song somewhere.
I know. Is waiting for a car to stop, a star to fall, someone to change her life.
Chapter 27 There was an old woman she had so many
The kids bend trees and bounce between cars and dangle upside down from knees and almost break like fancy museum vases you can't replace. They think it's funny. They are without respect for all things living, including themselves.
But after a wile you get tired of being worried about kids who aren't even yours. One day they are playing chicken on Mr. Benny's roof . Mr. Benny says, Hey ain't you kids know better than to be swinging up there? Come down, you come down right now, and then they just spit.
Chapter 28 Alicia who sees mice
Alicia, whose mama died, is sorry there is no one older to rise and make the lunchbox tortillas. Alicia, who inherited her mama's rolling pin and sleepiness, is young and smart and studies for the first time at the university. Two trains and a bus, because
she doesn't want to spend her whole life in factory or behind a rolling pin. Is a good girl, my friend, studies all night and sees the mice, the ones her father says do not exist. Is afraid of nothing except four-legged fur. And fathers.
Chapter 29 And some more……
The Eskimos got thirty different names for snow, I say. I read it in a book.
I got a cousin, Rachel says. She got three different names.
There ain't thirty different kinds of snow, Lucy says. There are two kinds. The clean kind and the dirty kind, clean and dirty. Only two.
There are a million zillion kinds, says Nenny. No two exactly alike. Only how do you remember which one is which?
She got three last names and, let me see, two first names. One in English and one in Spanish…
And clouds got at least ten different names. I say.
Names for clouds? Nenny asks. Names just like you and me?
Chapter 30 The Family of Little Feet
There was a family.All were little.Their arms were little,and their hands were little,and their height was not tall,and their feet very small.
The grandpa slept on the living room couch and snored through his teeth.His feet were fat and doughy like thick tamales,and these he powdered and stuffed into white socks and brown leather shoes.
The grandma's feet were lovely as pink pearls and dressed in velvety high heels that made her walk with a wobble,but she wore them anyway because they were pretty.
Chapter 31 An d some more……
The special kids, the ones who wear keys around their necks, get to eat in the canteen. The canteen! Even the name sounds important. And these kids at lunch time go there because their mothers aren't home or home is too far away to get to.
My home isn't far but it's not close either, and somehow I got it in my head one day to ask my mother to make me a sandwich and write a note to the principal so I could eat in the canteen too.
Oh no, she says pointing the butter knife at me as if I'm starting trouble, no sir. Next thing you know everybody will be wanting a bag lunch—I'll be up all night cutting bread into little triangles, this one with mayonnaise, this one with mustard, no pickles on mine, but mustard on one side please. You kids just like to invent more work for me.'
Chapter 32 Chanclas
It`s me——Mama,Mama said.I open up and she`s there with bags and big boxes,the new clothes and ,yes,she`s got the socks and a new slip with a little rose on it and a pink-and-white striped dress.What about the shoes? I forgot.Too late now.I`m tired.Whew!
Six-thirty already and my little cousin`s baptism is over.All day waiting,the door
locked,don`t open up for nobody,and I don`t till Mama gets back and buys everything except the shoes.
Now Uncle Nacho is coming in his car,and we have to hurry to get to Precious Blood Church quick because that`s where the baptism party is,in the basement rented for today for dancing and tamales and everyone`s kids running all over the place.
PS: chanclas,西班牙语，意为“塌跟的旧鞋”Precious Blood Church:圣血教堂
Chapter 33 And some more……
I like coffee, I like tea.
I like the boys and the boys like me.
Yes, no, maybe so. Yes, no, maybe so…
One day you wake up and they are there. Ready and waiting like a new Buick with the keys in the ignition. Ready to take you where?
They're good for holding a baby when you're cooking, Rachel says, turning the jump rope a little quicker. She has no imagination.
You need them to dance, says Lucy.
If you don't get them you may turn into a man. Nenny says this and she believes it. She is this way because of her age.
Chapter 34 The First Job
In my job I had to wear white gloves.I was supposed to match negatives with their
prints,just look at the picture and look for the same one on the negative strip, put it in the envelope, and do the next one.That`s all. I didn`t know where these envelopes were coming from or where they were going.I just did what I was told.
It was real easy, and Iguess I wouldn`t have minded it except that you got tired after a while and I didn`t know if I could sit down or not,and then I started sitting down only when the two ladies next to me did. After a while they started to laugh and came up to me and said I could sit when I wanted to ,and I said I knew.
Chapter 35 Papa who wakes up tired in the dark
You abuelito（1）is dead, Papa says early one morning in my room. Esta muerto （2）, and then as if he just heard the news himself, crumples like a coat and cries, my brave Papa cries. I have never seen my Papa cry and don't know what to do.
I know he will have to go away, that he will take a plane to Mexico, all the uncles and aunts will be there, and they will have a black-and-white photo taken in front of the tomb with flowers shaped like spears in a white vase because this is how they send the dead away in that country.
And I think if my own Papa died what would I do. I hold my Papa in my arms. I hold and hold and hold him.
Chapter 36 Born Bad
Most likely I will go to hell and most likely I deserve to be there.My brother says I was born on an evil day and pray for me.Lucy and Rachel pray too.For ourselves and for
each other……because of what we did to Aunt Lupe.
Her name was Guadalupe and she was pretty like my mother.Dark.Good to look at.In her Joan Crawford dress and swimmer`s legs.Aunt Lupe of the photographs.
But I knew her sick fromthe disease that would not go,her legs bunched under the yellow sheets,the bones gone limp as worms.The yellow pillow,the yellow smell,the bottles and spoonsl.Her head thrown back like a thirsty lady.My aunt,the swimmer.
Hard to imagine her legs once strong, the bones hard and parting water, clean sharp strokes, not bent and wrinkled like a baby, not drowning under the sticky yellow light. Second-floor rear apartment. The naked light bulb. The high ceilings. The light bulb always burning.
I don't know who decides who deserves to go bad. There was no evil in her birth. No wicked curse. One day I believe she was swimming, and the next day she was sick. It might have been the day that gray photograph was taken. It might have been the day she was holding cousin Totchy and baby Frank. It might have been the moment she pointed to the camera for the kids to look and they
wouldn't.
Maybe the sky didn't look the day she fell down. Maybe God was busy. It could be true she didn't dive right one day and hurt her spine. Or maybe the story that she fell very hard from a high step stool, like Totchy said, is true.
But I think diseases have no eyes. They pick with a dizzy finger anyone, just anyone. Like my aunt who happened to be walking down the street one day in her Joan Crawford dress, in her funny felt hat with the black feather, cousin Totchy in one hand, baby Frank
in the other.
Sometimes you get used to the sick and sometimes the sickness, if it is there too long, gets to seem normal. This is how it was with her, and maybe this is why we chose her.
It was a game, that's all. It was the game we played every afternoon ever since that day one of us invented it. I can't remember who. I think it was me. You had to pick somebody.
You had to think of someone everybody knew. Someone you could imitate and everyone else would have to guess who it was. It started out with famous people: Wonder Woman, the Beatles, Marilyn Monroe... But then somebody thought it'd be better if we changed the game a little, if we pretended we were Mr. Benny, or his wife Blanca, or Ruthie, or anybody we knew.
I don't know why we picked her. Maybe we were bored that day. Maybe we got tired. We liked my aunt. She listened to our stories. She always asked us to come back. Lucy, me, Rachel. I hated to go there alone. The six blocks to the dark apartment, second-floor rear building where sunlight never came, and what did it matter? My aunt was blind by then. She never saw the dirty dishes in the sink. She couldn't see the ceilings dusty with flies, the ugly maroon walls, the bottles and sticky spoons. I can't forget the smell. Like sticky capsules filled with jelly. My aunt, a little oyster, a little piece of meat on an open shell for us to look at. Hello, hello. As if she had fallen into a well.
I took my library books to her house. I read her stories. I liked the book The Water Babies. She liked it too. I never knew how sick she was until that day I tried to show her
one of the pictures in the book, a beautiful color picture of the water babies swimming in the sea. I held the book up to her face. I can't see it, she said, I'm blind. And then I was ashamed.
She listened to every book, every poem I read her. one day I read her one of my own. I came very close. I whispered it into the pillow:
I want to be
like the waves on the sea,
like the clouds in the wind,
but I'm me.
One day I'll jump
out of my skin.
I'll shake the sky
like a hundred violins.
That's nice. That's very good, she said in her tired voice. You just remember to keep writing, Esperanza. You must keep writing. It will keep you free, and I said yes, but at that time I didn't know what she meant.
The day we played the game, we didn't know she was going to die. We pretended with our heads thrown back, our arms limp and useless, dangling like the dead. We laughed the way she did. We talked the way she talked, the way blind people talk without moving their head. We imitated the way you had to lift her head a little so she could drink water, she sucked it up slow out of a green tin cup. The water was warm and tasted like metal. Lucy laughed. Rachel too. We took turns being her. We screamed in the weak
读《芒果街上的小屋》有感 在芒果街上的小屋，有一位叫埃斯佩朗莎的女孩。她是生活在美国的拉丁美洲移民后代。她用清澈的眼打量周围的世界，用诗一样美丽稚嫩的语言讲述成长，讲述年轻的热望和梦想。梦想着有一所房子，梦想在写作中找寻自我，获得自由和帮助别人的能力。 在当时种族差异和矛盾非常突出，对肤色和族裔问题十分敏感的美国社会，身为拉丁美洲移民后代常常意味着家境贫穷，遭人歧视以及文化上的隔阂与失落。透过小埃斯佩朗莎的眼我们认识了众多芒果街的拉丁移民。有凯西走后搬进她房子的“么么”一家：有住在她家地下室的波多黎各人——他们中的一位少年曾投来一辆黄色的凯迪拉克并载上所有邻家孩子在街上兜风过了把瘾，然后被警察拘捕进了局子：有又想攒钱和波多黎各男友结婚又想在美国找个阔丈夫的马林：有被男人遗弃的单亲母亲法拉斯，她带一大窝孩子艰难谋生，无人管教的小孩伙们一位胡闹终于有一天酿成惨祸：还有来美国的胖女人玛玛西塔，她不肯下楼也不肯说英语…….上帝很忙，没空照看这些卑微的人，让他们在人间一再的摔倒。 少女澄澈清明的眼观直视移民区人们最真实的生活状态，或是辛酸或是无奈或是逃避又或是偶尔的欢愉。小孩子似懂非懂的话充分并且残忍地折射着成人社会的矛盾弊端和偏见。 肤色的差异，文化的隔阂让他们在痛苦和希望中徘徊，有痛苦的割裂抗拒，也有痛苦的妥协追求。他们要挣扎逃离出那片带着色彩的泥泞，跳出自己的身躯以求获得自由，倔强的抗击着压力挫折和伤害。就像她房子进的四棵细弱的小树一样突破砖石和阻扰顽强成长。她要长大，有一天离开芒果街。 然而他的离开并不意味着摆脱。离开，是为了更有意义的回来！离开那片贫瘠的土地，离开那带着色彩的泥泞。带着对成功的渴望和对财富的追求的离开只能说明倔强与不屈，顽强与拼搏。归来，带着芒果街的责任与期许则是超越了本质意义上的美国梦！离开是为了归来，为了那些不像自己那么容易离开的人，为了那些不那么幸运的人。是芒果街的人，永远不能忘记自己所知道的事情，不能忘记自己是谁!不在纸醉金迷的美国梦中迷失自我，清醒的认识到自己的责任与位置，不是叶落归根的沧桑与无力，而是落红护花的无私与炽热。上帝遗忘了那群子民，而那群卑微渺小的人们痛苦着，希望着，自我救赎与被救赎！努力的活着活着。
《芒果街上的小屋》英语读后感_2000字 In the process of reading, I feel depressed and sad. Almost all the negative emotions came to me. Say it's like a fairy tale? I think so. It's like a fairy tale, just like Green's fairy tales. Do you know the dark truth of Green's fairy tales? The prince who awakened the princess was a cadaver, the sleeping beauty woke up as a mother of twins, and snow white vomited the apple because her corpse was whipped every day by the servant of the coffin, Cinderella's heart is venomous, and Du Songshu's story is bloody and violent. And the house on Mango Street, including the white, black and orange color illustrations, made me feel like I was in Green's fairy tale, depressed and eager to get rid of it. To be precise, this book has no plot and no big reason. From this point of view, you may think it is dull. On the contrary, it is so close to the heart of our Maiden: some careless, somewhat flurried palpitations, some unintelligible, and of course the simplest and simplest desire to have their own house. It can be said that the fate of the emigrants on Mango Street is tragic, the
囚笼中的女人 各位小伙伴大家好，我分享的题目是囚笼中的女人。我的分享主要分为四个部分，首先为大家解释一下我的分享的主题的含义，然后我会跟大家概括描述一 下中国女性的前世今生，接着我们可以一起探讨一下性别歧视的根本原因，最 后对于现代女性该如何自处这个问题提出一些小小的看法。 在本周的六个故事里主角都是女性，她们分别是只知道8个英文单词的Mamacita、只能喝喝木瓜椰子汁出不了家门的Rafaela、被禁止跳舞的漂亮女孩Sally和靠写诗来发泄的Minerva以及像瘦弱的小树一样被束缚着却要努力生长的Esperanza。这些芒果街上的女性是当时社会女性角色的缩影，反映了女性在生活中的无助、压抑与不易。她们肉体和精神上都受到了束缚，仿佛生活在囚笼里。 这让我想起了在旧社会中，一个女孩儿的呱呱坠地，除了给家里人带来几天短暂的闷闷不乐，更多是给自己披上了漫长一生的灰纱。等待着她们的是干不完的活，争取不到的权利以及被歧视的生活。而现在在我国，有越来越多的女孩子能够接受良好的教育资源，有与男孩同等竞争的机会。如今女性的社会地位得到不断改善，不少女性在各个领域都取得了卓越成就。 然而性别歧视问题仍然存在，虽然不似以前那般严重。那么性别歧视的根源是什么呢？大家有没有想过这个问题？每当我们义正严辞发起对女性不平等待遇的啼血控诉，矛头就不由分说地指向起了我们的对立面-男性。在我看来其实不然，这种想法有点浮于表面和过于极端。是的，表面上看，是他们限制了我们的自由，是他们禁锢了我们思想，是他们怒吼与施暴。而作为作为哥哥弟弟和儿子时的他们也是如此可怕吗？深挖下去，是男女社会形象传统思潮的泛滥，男人就该坚强好斗野心勃勃，女人就该顺从脆弱。是社会发展阶段的局限，人类社会还没有发展到那么先进文明的阶段，而社会的发展也需要男性女性携手共同来推动。 最后我想说一说女性在当今社会该如何自处问题。正如Olivia所说，我们当有女性力量，那么什么是女性力量呢？女性力量不是指女性一定要强势，也不是过分的追求奢饰品，更不是凌驾男性之上。而是女性骨子里原本就有却被社会演化遮盖掉的力量。我们勇敢、自信、智慧、也理智。我们敢于突破自我，表达自我。我们敢于说“不”。女性可以： 走遍世界各地去拍摄美丽风景 带着自己天马行空的梦想去环游世界 滑轮，练拳击，踢足球，击剑 大胆自信地表达自己的观点和想法 用自己清澈良知去影响周围的人 不管你在哪里，女性就是一股不可忽视的力量！
读书心得的好题目 《善用人才是成功的关键》 《童年读〈城南旧事〉有感》 《读〈钢铁是怎样炼成的〉有感》 《那不疲倦的心读〈鲁滨逊漂流记〉有感》 《妒忌是前进路上的拦路虎读〈三国演义〉有感》 《读〈繁星春水〉有感》 《坚强的勇者读〈鲁滨逊漂流记〉有感》 《读〈钢铁是怎样炼成的〉有感》 《读〈格列佛游记〉有感》 《怀感恩之心，发现世间美好》 《人间处处充满爱》 《读书心得》 《读〈修养是人的第二身份〉有感》 《〈汤姆索亚历险记〉读后体会》 《〈朝花夕拾〉读书心得》 《爱的泉水〈爱的教育〉读书心得》 《读〈只有一个地球〉有感》 《读〈沉思录〉有感》 《永不疲倦地行走在坚强的道路上读〈鲁滨逊漂流记〉有感》 《读〈钢铁是怎样炼成的〉有感》
《我和凡卡比童年读〈凡卡〉有感》 《读〈钢铁是怎样炼成的〉有感》 《读〈童年〉有感》 《书香》 《读〈福尔摩斯探案集〉有感》 《爱的绽放读〈爱的教育〉有感》 读书心得/读后感题目 《读〈龟兔赛跑〉有感》 《追求无尽头读〈叶的梦想〉有感》 《绝境逢生，背水一战》 《不要让自由被虚荣所束缚》 《享受挫折，勇敢超越〈钢铁是怎样炼成的〉读书心得》 《奋斗成就未来〈鲁滨逊漂流记〉读书心得》 《坚毅、执着，人性的闪光读〈鲁滨逊漂流记〉有感》 《渴求重拾人性的善良读〈骆驼祥子〉有感》 《我们如此幸运读〈沙漏〉有感》 《读〈拾捡与抓挠〉有感》 《一颗璀璨无华的恒星读〈鲁迅散文集〉有感》 《生命因你而美丽》 《坚强的人生》
《读〈鲁滨逊漂流记〉有感》 《童年的友谊没有身份证读〈故乡〉有感》《以史为鉴，以民为本读〈水浒传〉有感》《读〈爱的教育〉有感》 《读〈秋天的怀念〉有感》 《愤怒与惋惜》 《生命的真谛》 《人不能自傲》 《世上还有爸爸好》 《读〈带三句话上路〉有感》 《伴着痛的爱》 《真情无价》 读书心得/读后感题目 《水晶般的心》 《爱可以拯救一切》 《遗失的美好》 《追寻青鸟之路》 《炽烈的爱国之情读〈藤野先生》有感》《上善若水》 《最可贵的手足情读〈小妇人〉有感》《读〈童年〉有感》 《〈鲁滨逊漂流记〉读后感》
名著美文节选阅读赏析：《芒果街上的小屋》 《芒果街上的小屋》一本优美纯净的小书，一本“诗小说”。由 几十个短篇组成，语言清澈如流水，点缀着零落的韵脚和新奇的譬喻，如一首首长歌短调，各自成韵，又彼此钩连，汇聚出一个清晰世界， 各样杂沓人生。所有的讲述都归于一个叙述中心：居住在芝加哥拉美 移民社区芒果街上的女孩埃斯佩朗莎。生就对弱的同情心和对美的感 觉力，她用清澈的眼打量周围的世界，用美丽稚嫩的语言讲述成长、 沧桑、生命的美好与不易和年轻的热望与梦想，梦想有一所自己的房子，梦想在写作中追寻自我，获得自由和协助别人的水平。 Hairs Everybody in our family has different hair. My Papa"s hair is like a broom, all up in the air. And me, my hair is lazy. It never obeys barrettes or bands. Carlos" hair is thick and straight. He doesn"t need to comb it. Nenny"s hair is slippery--slides out of your hand. And Kiki, who is the youngest, has hair like fur. But my mother"s hair, my mother"s hair, like little rosettes, like little candy circles all curly and pretty because she pinned it in pincurls all day, sweet to put your nose into when she is holding you, holding you and you feel safe, is the warm smell of bread before you bake it, is the smell when she makes room for you on her side of the bed still warm with her skin, and you sleep near her, the rain outside falling and Papa snoring. The snoring, the rain, and Mama's hair that smells like bread. 头发
英语阅读赏析翻译：芒果街上的小屋 Everybody in our family has different hair. My Papa’s hair is like a broom, all up in the air. And me, my hair is lazy. It never obeys barrettes or bands. Carlos' hair is thick and straight. He doesn't need to comb it. Nenny's hair is slippery一slides out of your hand. And Kiki, who is the youngest, has hair tike fur. 我们家里每个人的头发都不一样。爸爸的头发像扫把，根根直立往上插。而我，我的头发挺懒惰。它从来不听发夹和发带的话。卡洛斯的头发又直又厚。他不用梳头。蕾妮的头发滑滑的—会从你手里溜走。还有奇奇，他最小，茸茸的头发像毛皮。 But my mother's hair, my mother's hair, like little rosettes,like little candy circles all curly and pretty because she pinned it in pincurls all day, sweet to put your nose into when she is holding you, holding you and you feel safe, is the warm smell of bread before you bake it, is the smell when she makes room for you on her side of the bed still warm with her skin, and you sleep near her, the rain outside falling and Papa snoring. The snoring, the rain, and Mama's hair that smells like bread. 只有妈妈的头发，妈妈的头发，好像一朵朵小小的玫瑰花结，一枚枚小小的糖果圈儿，全都那么卷曲，那么漂亮，因为她成天给它们上发卷。当她搂你时，把鼻子伸进去闻一闻吧，这时，你觉得是那么的安全，闻到的气味又那么香甜。是那种待烤的面包暖暖的香味，是那种她给你让出一角被窝时，和着体温散发的芬芳。你睡在她身旁，外面下着雨，爸爸打着鼾。哦，鼾声、雨声，还有妈妈那闻起来像面包的头发。 Darius & the Clouds
《芒果街上的小屋》是美国作家桑德拉·希斯内罗丝（Sandra Cisneros）创作的小说。《芒果街上的小屋》所记录的，是从女孩蜕变为女人的过程，是少女时代的最后一段光阴。作品的触角伸向生活的每个角落，妈妈，婶婶，一朵小云彩，一只小狗，一次小伤心，一点小悸动在少女澄澈的眼底，这些都打上了“家”和“回忆”的记号 《孤单星球》：治愈系唯美晚安绘本，献给城市森林里寂寞又美好的人 这是一个关于寻找生命中缺失部分的故事，梦幻光影编织出那个住在每个人心底的孤单星球。每个生命在路上时都要学会坚持，学会爱，试着接受生命中的残缺与不完美。希望这本书能为那些需要光的人闪烁一次，即使只是微弱如划过夜空的星迹，也能为旅途上孤独的人带来些许安慰，如此，就有意义 。 民国一代才女林徽因传记。最翔实完备、最具文字美感，最精致最唯美最诗意的林徽 因生平记述。 唯美诗意展现林徽因与绝代诗人徐志摩的爱情传奇。细腻抒写林徽因的婚姻和事业，以及其一生不朽的历程。随书附赠《你是人间的四月天：林徽因经典作品集》 我的电脑2017/1/2 15:13:16 作者简介编辑 方洋，曾就职于某省级报业集团，现为自由撰稿人。因本人患有轻度梦游症，为弄清梦游症与精神疾病之间的关系，多次走访梦游症患者，发现梦游人士所“看到”的世界，与常人大为不同。 读后感：颠覆世界观 蔡骏，悬疑类小说，小学看过的《第十九层地狱》也挺好看的。 八月长安的振华三部曲之一 《奋斗在巴黎的日子》主要讲述了：一个心思细腻，一个心无城府，一个擅攻心计，兰个女留学生为了得到巴黎的工作签证。上演了一幕幕精彩的职场争斗!这是一本异国职场的生 存法则。教会你如何在逆境中生存。（还没看完）
《树上的小屋》读后感600字2篇 导读：吉恩·布克编著的《树上的小屋》介绍：在一棵古老的枫树上，有一座美丽的小木屋，那是小女孩克丽丝的秘密小窝。克丽丝坐在小屋窗前，时而翻翻她最爱读的侦探小说，时而朝远处眺望：远方，有一座神秘的“鬼屋”，据说，里面有一辆价值连城的老爷车。以下是由J.L推荐的《树上的小屋》读后感，欢迎参考阅读。 篇1：《树上的小屋》读后感 《树上的小屋》是一本优美纯净的小书，一本“诗小说”，一个关于成长，关于在写作中追求现实和精神家园的故事。 它由几十个短篇组成，一个短篇讲述一个人、一件事、一个梦、几朵云，几棵树、几种感觉，语言清澈如流水，点缀着零落的韵脚和新奇的譬喻，如一首首长歌短调，各自成韵，又彼此钩连，汇聚出一个清晰世界，各样杂沓人生。 埃斯佩朗莎，是西班牙语里的希望。生活在芝加哥拉美移民社区芒果街的女孩埃斯佩朗莎，生就对他人痛苦的同情心和对美的感觉力，她用清澈的眼打量周围的世界，用诗一样美丽稚嫩的语言讲述成长、讲述沧桑、讲述生命的美好与不易，讲述年轻的热望和梦想。梦想有一所自己的房子，梦想在写作中追寻自我，获得自由和帮助别人的能力。 像其他美国小说一样,主人公独立,坚强,又是个充满矛盾的人,实际上她还是个孩子.生于墨西哥的“我”，还没看透那里的亲切的黄棕色皮肤的人，吃够当地的土特产，就被父母带到了美洲。仓促地
使我感到“一战”中犹太人的处境。接下来，顺理成章，"我"移民到了美国,陌生的空气，陌生的大陆还有似友非友的大流士，但似乎很苯……移民带给"我"的也是矛盾.无论是,爸爸突然对我说,爷爷死了,还是卢佩婶婶变成已成为过去的黑白照片,尽管她在照片上看上去很漂亮。 全文是用近似小孩子口气描述的,但所包含的内容却不是一个 稚气的孩子能够承受.手法相当含蓄,像一杯蒙上白布的灌满水的玻 璃杯,感觉透明,又适宜.里面没有美国小说向来的幽默，但全文有着小孩子的浪漫，或许他们还不知道什么是浪漫。一些比喻和其他修辞手法很贴切，比如妈妈的头发比作小小的玫瑰花，一枚小小的糖果圈儿。 有时作者会婉转表达对生命的依赖。在这里你可以知道一个小孩子的遐想，一个小孩子对生活的态度，一个小孩子的悲悯之心，她的认真，心思和感悟毫不吝惜的表现在生活，社会及生命中。孩子的思想大人往往无法理解，大人可以解释一个公式，一个新名词，一个有结尾的故事，但就是解释不了孩子的思想。只有在生活中你可以解释他们的一个动作。 生活 * 让人费解，它能让一群人找到语言，又让另一群人迷失。不过它确实妙极了，它试图让一个人处于边缘，但他身后就是空地。但它并不坏。 篇2：《树上的小屋》读后感
汤姆叔叔的小屋好句好段摘抄 《汤姆叔叔的小屋》，是美国作家哈里特·比彻·斯托(斯托夫人)于1852年发表的一部反奴隶制小说。汤姆叔叔的小屋是一部非常著名的好书，一部好书里面一定有很多非常好的好词好句和好段值得我们进行摘抄和积累。摘抄这些对于我们的语文学习非常有帮助。下面为大家提供汤姆叔叔的小屋好词好句好段摘抄，供大家参考。 句子： 1、蓝底黄点的围巾配花哨的领带，手指上的几枚戒指，与身上的金标互相发光。他自以为神气，实际上他给的印象很俗气。 2、这个小男孩叫哈利，能歌善舞，模仿力有强，主人叫他表演驼背走路、学长老拉长脸用鼻音哼诗篇，学啥想啥，抖得两个大人哈哈大笑。 3、只要法律把这些有血、有肉、有感情的黑人当做庄主的私人财产看待，即使心肠最好的奴主，也不能保证他家到衰败时，不讲奴隶卖出去。 4、虽然他不完全相信圣人的多余功德，以及超度罪人的宗教效果，但仍在幻想中指望也许可靠妻子的有余功德升入天堂。 5、奴隶制是黑人的灾难，也是白人的灾难，我以为自
己能帮助改变这个制度，我希望不同人种平等。基督教后，这种希望更强烈，我以为用博爱，就可以让我家的黑人活的比白人好。现在想一想，我太爱幻想了。 6、她悄悄的离开客厅后，起的全身发抖，一改平时的温柔，满脸愤怒。在女主人卧室门口，她无声祈祷，回到她的房间，看见睡在床上的小宝贝，可爱的小脸蛋、微微张着的嘴唇、胖胖的的小手，她的新都碎了。 7、人生如一次长长的旅行，旅行中有坦途也有弯路，你得以平静的心态面队每一天，挑战自我，执着向前，一如既往地朝着目的地走下去。当你到达终点站顾却来径时，才发现人生的旅途有喜有忧，有笑有泪，甚至得少失多，而这一切已构成了你生命旅程的全部。 8、当悲伤的水流入稳重的山，水这可怜儿的悲伤也勾起了山的悲伤，于是他们的心一起碎了;水把头埋入地下，山却把心的碎片一块块收好。于是就有了迷乱复杂的溶洞，就有了千姿百态的石笋，就有了洞口突突的泉水。 词语： 绅士讲究神气俗气欠债麻烦抵债 诚实稳重信赖性情良心宠爱贪婪 同意摆平拳打脚踢善有善报愁眉苦脸 经营奥妙训练恐怕阴影法律自言自语 脆弱本性忠心耿耿衰败和蔼可亲减缩
The House on Mango Street We didn’t always live on Mango Street. Before that we lived on Loomis on the third floor, and before that we lived on Keeler it was Paulina, and before that I can’t remember, But what I remember most is moving a lot. Each time it seems there’d be one more of us. By the time we got to Mango Street we were six—Mama, Papa, Carlos, Kiki, my sister Nenny and me. The house on Mango Street is ours, and we don't have to pay rent to anybody, or share the yard with the people downstairs, or be careful not to make too much noise, and there isn't a landlord banging on the ceiling with a broom. But even so, it's not the house we'd thought we'd get. We had to leave the flat on Loomis quick. The water pipes broke and the lanlord wouldn't fix them because the house was too old. We had to leave fast. We were using the washroom next door and carrying water over in empty milk gallons. That's why Mama and Papa looked for a house, and that's why we moved into the house on Mango Street, far away, on the other side of town. They always told us that one day we would move into a house, a real house that would be ours for always so we wouldn't have to move each year. And our house would have running water and pipes that worked. And inside it would have real stairs, not hallway stairs, but stairs inside like the houses on T.V. And we'd have a basement and at least three washrooms so when we took a bath we wouldn't have to tell everybody. Our house would be white with trees around it, a great big yard and grass growing without a fence. This was the house Papa talked about when he held a lottery ticket and this was the house Mama dreamed up in the stories she told us before we went to bed. But the house on Mango Street is not the way they told it at all. It's small and red with tight steps in front and windows so small you'd think they were holding their breath. Bricks are crumbling in places, and the front door is so swollen you have to push hard to get in. There is no front yard only four little elms the city planted by the curb. Out back is a small garage for the car we don't own yet and a small yard that looks smaller between the two buildings on either side. There are stairs in our house, but they're ordinary hallway stairs, and the house has only one
《树上的小屋》读后感「全网3篇」 导读：吉恩·布克编著的《树上的小屋》介绍：克丽丝刚想关上窗户，忽然看见一个模糊的人影越过后院向深沟走去。她缩回身子，从窗帘后面往外看着。没错，有人打开了后门。这时，月亮突然消失在云层之中。当月亮再次从云层里钻出来时，院子里已经空无一人了。她靠近窗户，仔细倾听，只有沙沙的树叶声。以下是由J.L推荐的《树上的小屋》读后感，欢迎参考阅读。 篇一：《树上的小屋》读后感 我的书架上摆放着很多的书，有：窗下的树皮小屋夏洛的网史记故事……其中，我最喜欢的一本书那就是窗下的树皮小屋。 这是一本童话集，书的作者是著名作家冰波。书里有许多故事：青蛙国王露珠项链买梦沙漠上的脚印小精灵的冬天等。 这些故事一个个内容生动、有趣，还充满了神奇的色彩，我非常喜欢。这本书中让我最难忘的一个故事是蓝鲸的眼睛。 这个故事讲的是：在大海边的一个渔村里，有一位勇敢善良的青年，为了让邻居的小女孩那双漂亮的眼睛重见光明，他冒着生命危险把锋利的钩予射向了蓝鲸眼睛……第二天，那位青年带着蓝鲸的一只眼睛回来了，他把蓝鲸的眼睛送给失明的小女孩。 一瞬间，奇迹发生了，小女孩的眼睛复明了。但是，渔民却不能出海了，因为失去眼睛的蓝鲸开始疯狂地报复所有的出海的渔民。它每次看到渔船都要在海面上掀起巨浪，把渔船打碎，让渔民葬身于
大海之中。最后，那位勇敢的青年再次出海，他找到蓝鲸用刀了结了自己的生命，也了结了自己和蓝鲸之间的恩怨…… 读完这个故事，我的眼睛都湿润了，我仿佛看到小女孩重见光明的动人场面，仿佛看到青年为了渔民的生命而甘愿牺牲自己……故事中那位青年人的做法让我非常感动!这个故事告诉我要有勇气去承担自己的过错，要对自己做过的事情负责。 它还让我明白了帮助别人，快乐自己。如果社会上每一个人都能在别人遇到困难能无私地帮助别人，这个世界将变得更加美好! 这就是我喜欢的一本书，神奇又感人! 篇二：《树上的小屋》读后感 “大自然”这个词，对于我们并不陌生，只要我们用心去发现，就能从中得到奥秘。 世界的爱有很多种，朋友之爱，夫妻之爱，手足之爱，父母之爱，陌生人之间的爱……是这无数的爱汇集成我们头上的天，脚下的地，让我们的生活处处洒满阳光、时时鲜花盛开。不要吝惜你的爱，奉献出来，你会发现，给比索取更快。 改变这个世界的，不是上帝，而是人与人之间的信任和欣赏·关爱和支持·鼓励和祝福。 一个人或一个小动物，都有善的一面和恶的一面。只要我们用心去和大自然沟通，用心去爱护用心去感受，大自然会回报我们最大的恩赐。 篇三：《树上的小屋》读后感
《芒果街上的小屋》 《芒果街上的小屋》是一本优美纯净的小书，一本“诗小说”。它由几十个短篇组成，一个短篇讲述一个人、一件事、一个梦想、几朵云，几棵树、几种感觉，语言清澈如流水，点缀着零落的韵脚和新奇的譬喻，如一首首长歌短调，各自成韵，又彼此钩连，汇聚出一个清晰世界，各样杂沓人生。所有的讲述都归于一个叙述中心：居住在芝加哥拉美移民社区芒果街上的女孩埃斯佩朗莎（埃斯佩朗莎，是西班牙语里的希望）。生就对弱的同情心和对美的感觉力，她用清澈的眼打量周围的世界，用美丽稚嫩的语言讲述成长，讲述沧桑，讲述生命的美好与不易，讲述年轻的热望和梦想，梦想着有一所自己的房子，梦想着在写作中追寻自我，获得自由和帮助别人的能力。 看Z寄来的《芒果街上的小屋》,这么多年来的习惯是回避主流,窝于边缘，以至于这本红透半边天的书到现在才看。真是满适合现在人的节奏的，切的碎碎的时间碎片里，拈一口，即时消化，写字的女人，文字功夫是举重若轻的那个路数，用很少的字，表达一个很漫漶的意思。很多童话文字，还有金子美铃童谣,也是这个路子。但是写的真好。妙就妙在：落脚在写实和现实之间，如果是后者，就是《米格尔街》了，那个调子就暗沉了。阅读成本也会高的多。 我听很多人说它干净，其实里面还是有务实的舵啊，种族歧视，努力融入主流社会的底层情结，穷人和小灰姑娘的自卑心什么的。它也没有刻意滤掉这个现实的霉斑。看似一个小姑娘的,低矮的视角,却有很多"大"情结。想要一间自己的，不被任何人左右的自主空间，有大窗户的大房子。做个经济自立，交际开阔，妩媚动人，魅倒众生的大女人。一边眷念就一边反抗着。而且它的宽容，平视，自制，缓和。也还是一个成年人的回眸。 就这么随着她一路溜达而去，景点过处，去日留痕。实在是个敏感的小女生，一点点颠簸都引发不快，这个触媒可能是一双塌了跟的，和衣服不配的旧鞋，它让她始终不敢走出自己的座位。也可能是一个小破房子，她羞于拿它示人，穷人的自卑心啊。嫫嫫指了一个破屋顶说这是你家吧，她一边哭就一边默认了。读这么松弛的书，为什么我的心是拎着的呢？因为自己的周围，也有这么一个时时存
《芒果街上的小屋》优秀读书笔记 《芒果街上的小屋》读后感 《芒果街上的小屋》作者桑德拉·希斯内罗丝用干净纯美的句子勾勒出了一个关于成长，关于在写作中追求现实和精神家园的故事。这是一部由诗句编织成的小书，语言清澈如水般流淌在精神的海洋里，这是一次充斥着梦想在书本上找寻希望和自我的旅程，情节像白色的棉絮轻柔飞扬…… 《芒果街上的小屋》它不是纯粹的只是部诗小说。作者用几十个短片串联并清楚流畅的表达了自己思想，用精练的笔法描绘出了一个追逐梦想寻求自我的女孩。 主人公埃斯佩朗莎是一个生活在芝加哥拉美移民社区芒果街的女孩，埃斯佩朗莎，是西班牙语里的希望。或许就因为如此上帝赋予了她对他人无私的同情心和对美的感觉力。她在成长过程中目睹着事物的发展像是一个感性的旁观者一次又一次的阅读着别人的故事而独自一个人偷偷的躲在角落里感受着他人的心情寂寞的露着泪。她用清澈的眼打量周围的世界用一颗包容的心，接纳着周围的悲欢离散。 埃斯佩朗莎把自己所看到的东西写在自己的小说里用稚嫩的语言讲述着成长讲述着沧桑讲述着事物的美好和不易她在小说里不断的追逐自己的梦想寻求真实的自我，不断的用感恩的心为在苦难中的人们祈祷，她不断的找寻通向希望的出口夹杂着自己短暂的青春。她讲述着年轻的热望和梦想在写作中追寻自我，获得自由和帮助别人的能力。 作者桑德拉·希斯内罗丝用几十个短片描述一个人、一棵树、一个梦、几朵云，几棵树、几种感觉，语言流畅优美，像一副关于天空的油彩图简简单单却不失对梦想的追逐充斥着年轻和张扬飞驰在寻求自我的旅途上汇聚成一个清晰的世界身临其境。 当我读完这部名著回到现实发现我们行走在人来人往的人群中同样的步伐却没有了共同的言语。我们共处在一方土地却忘了用相同的语言和近在咫尺的人们讲述自己内心的世界。在我们花费光年在上班下班忙碌的节奏中时却都已经看不到年少时追逐梦想的激情和张扬。 或许拥挤在人海中的你我已留起了粗密的胡渣手牵着自己的儿女却早已忘却了那段找寻希望和自我时桀骜不驯的鲁莽…… 曾经拥有梦想的我们也许都已倒在了年少时通往梦想的遥远的铁轨上伤痕累累挣扎不起。 梦想兑现的道路是铺满碎石，充满陷阱的。难道曾经都渴望抓住梦想的我
Leave to Come Back “You can never have too much sky. You can fall asle ep and wake up drunk on sky, and sky can keep you safe when you are sad. Here there is too much sadness and not enough sky. Butterflies too are few and so are flowers and most thin gs that are beautiful. Still we take what we can get and make the best of it.” These words are extracted from The House on Mango Street and caught my eyes from the first sight. Sandra Cisneros, author of the book, is a renowned Mexican-American contemporary poet. The protagonist is a little girl called Esperanza who was born and brought up in a poor Hispanic community. She tells stories about a person, a trivial matter, a dream, some clouds, a few trees, pieces of thoughts and feelings. These littles things constitutes a clear world and varied lives of people. All the stories and tellings themselves originally and finally comes to a core -- a girl, with the sympathy of the deprived ones, whose name symbols “hope” in Hispanic is dreaming of having a house of her own, finding her soul in writing and acquiring the ability and freedom to help others. I think those are the most sweet words that I’ve ever read from a foreign language. Just like, when you’ve read Tang poem Song jambic verse, you would find yourself falling in love with ancient Chinese; when you’ve experienced Zhao hua xi shi, you would be keen to the vernacular. The initial encounter with those lovely words made me adore the auth or’s remarkable intell igence of wielding words. But then, I could not help immersing myself into the world it creates, recapturing what I have lost and comprehended on the trip of growing-up. This is a dramatic experience where you can have a tiny touch of the pain and beauty of life through a little girl’s eyes. Those bitter sweet feelings travel beyond time barrier and echo in my mind, and settle down gently. Many readers hailed this book as a “fantastic collection of fairytales”. But is it? I would rather call it a “dairy”. I am not sure which age group it is in tended for. Stories of this girl is so trivial and mundane that they may not seem to be
Chapter 1 Hairs Everybody in our family has different hair. My Papa's hair is like a broom, all up in the air. And me, my hair is lazy. It never obeys barrettes or bands. Carlos' hair is thick and straight. He doesn't need to comb it. Nenny's hair is slippery——slides out of your hand. And Kiki, who is the youngest, has hair like fur. But my mother's hair, my mother's hair, like little rosettes, like little candy circles all curly and pretty because she pinned it in pincurls all day, sweet to put your nose into when she is holding you, holding you and you feel safe, is the warm smell of bread before you bake it, is the smell when she makes room for you on her side of the bed still warm with her skin, and you sleep near her, the rain outside falling and Papa snoring. The snoring, the rain, and Mama's hair that smells like bread. Chapter 2 Darius & The Clouds You can never have too much sky. You can fall asleep and wake up drunk on sky, and sky can keep you safe when you are sad. Here there is too much sadness and not enough sky. Butterflies too are few and so are flowers and most things that are beautiful. Still, we take what we can get and make the best of it. Darius, who doesn't like school, who is sometimes stupid and mostly a fool, said something wise today, though most days he says nothing. Darius, who chases girls with firecrackers or a stick that touched a rat and thinks he's tough, today pointed up because the world was full of clouds, the kind like pillows. You all see that cloud, that fat one there? Darius said, See that? Where? That one next to the one that look like popcorn. That one there. See that. That's God, Darius
《芒果街上的小屋》读书心得 我的头像里，就是这本《芒果街上的小屋》。 最初知道这本书，是一个同学告诉我的。他在美国的文学课上看到它，便喜欢上了。后来，另一个在美国的朋友看了也大为倾倒，并发感慨说：为什么人家就能写出这么好的东西来，而中国的女作家里就只能出点“宝贝”。我素来信赖他的眼光。听了这句感慨，便立即去网上搜查。结果看到一篇评论中引用的书里的一段，我以为那是我自学外语以来看到过的最甜美的异国文字。 （只有妈妈的头发，妈妈的头发，好像一朵朵小小的玫瑰花结，一枚枚小小的糖果圈儿，全都那么拳曲，那么漂亮，因为她成天给它们上发卷。把鼻子伸进去闻一闻吧，当她搂着你时。当她搂着你时，你觉得那么安全，闻到的气味又那么香甜。是那种待烤的面包的暖香，是那种她给你让出一角被窝时，和着体温散发的芬芳。你睡在她身旁，外面下着雨，爸爸打着鼾。哦，鼾声、雨声，还有妈妈那闻起来像面包的头发。） 就这么简单的几行字，用的是小学生日记式的朴素词汇和稚拙语气，可是读下去的一刹那，繁花堕树，清风吹涧。每一个散落的韵脚都敲打到微渺的神经，每一下纤细的笔触都牵动起久远的记忆。也许，文字之美的一层境界就是无限接近相通的艺术领域，俘获到音乐与绘画的灵性。比如维摩诘的诗，比如姜白石的词，妙在不可言，惟有以
音画相比拟。 浅尝竟尝出这样的滋味，岂能不叫人食指大动？而彼时深陷其中的朋友也不禁手痒，接连译出许多篇发给我，让我能一读为快。一篇篇读下来，越发觉得有味。初次邂逅那段可爱的文字，你也许佩服的只是作者驾驭文字，捕捉感觉的笔力，可看到后来，你却发觉自己已经把持不住，完全陷落到书里的情境中，重温自己成长旅程中的失落和领悟。那是一种被震撼的体验，透过小主人公的感受，生命的痛与美，被书写得这样含蓄而朦胧。一本用小女孩语气写出来的书，竟然包含那么多！许多的字句，穿越时空引鸣你的心灵之钟，然后归于沉寂，安静地驻扎下来。设想许多年后，仰望天空的你，还能念出书里的句子：“你永远不能拥有太多的天空。你可以在天空下睡去，醒来又沉醉……” 就是这样一本书，你看过之后会想起，想过之后发现自己已然爱上了它，连带爱上它操持的语言。譬如看过唐诗宋词，你会爱上古汉语，而看过《朝花夕拾》，你又爱上了现代的白话。是的，它就是这样的珍物。你读到之后必欲收藏而后快的珍物。 很高兴国内引进了这本书。中英双语的版本甚至比原版做得更好。