I am thoroughly enjoying Sandra Cisneros‘ ability to demonstrate such a dynamic progression of narrative voice throughout the course of Woman Hollering Creek. I don’t even feel as though I’m reading the same author in the latter half of the book. The first half possesses such a beautifully sweet and descriptive tone, while the latter tends to evoke much darker, complicated emotions within me. As the stories progress, I find that I have more and more difficulty grappling with the questionable morality of the accepted social norms. I am genuinely struggling to accept the manner in which these women, particularly the narrator of Eyes of Zapata, are willing to settle for small fractions of their own husbands’ hearts. It is utterly infuriating that the narrator does not demand more devotion, more respect, more integrity from the supposedly heroic Zapata.

We have encountered many incidences in which oppressed Chicana and Latina women turn a blind eye to the occasional dalliances of their husbands, but to be fully aware that one’s own husband is also husband and father to several other women and children in other towns is an extreme to which I can not come to terms. What makes the situation even worse, if possible, is that Zapata feels no obligation whatsoever to conceal the existence of his multiple marriages.

I also had particular difficulty with the manner in which the former lovers of the narrator’s mother conspire to execute her malicious, barbaric murder. Once more Cisneros quite competently portrays the appalling double standard granted to men in Chicano society. The men are free to philander about, free from responsibility, impregnating whomever they please. On the rare occasion that a woman decides to express her sexuality freely, however, committing no worse offence than the men who surround her, she is brutally and savagely murdered. To compound the injustice, this remarkable woman is not only betrayed and murdered, but she is left in the field as an example “braids undone, a man’s sombrero tipped on her head, a cigar in her mouth, as if to say, this is what we do to women who try to act like men” (pg 111). The bitter emotions evoked within me at such extreme injustice are almost too much to bear. Cisneros is thus exceptionally successful in executing her literary purpose. She is capable of connecting with her audience on such a deeply personal level. I have experienced nothing close to any of the situations discussed in Eyes of Zapata, and yet I feel personally wronged by the injustice perpetuated in the backward societies of which she speaks. I think perhaps her tendency to convey the most deeply internal, personal thoughts of her characters — the most secret opinions and truths which are rarely voiced — that is the element of her writing style that enables Cisneros to have such a dramatic effect on her readers.

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On an entirely separate note, I also really loved the genuine nature of the individual prayers expressed in Little Miracles, Kept Promises. Cisneros’ skill for assuming different narrative voices is once again brought to the reader’s attention. These prayers of desire and gratitude were so beautiful, so personal, so honest. I felt as though there was such a wide range of perspectives being expressed. This short story was, in my opinion, a truly wonderful literary achievement.