The irony of “Woman Hollering Creek,” the titular story in Sandra Cisneros’s collection Women Hollering creek and Other Stories, is that its central character’s tragedy is to have fulfilled her dreams without realizing it, having misunderstood or misinterpreted the object of her own desire.

Cleófilas is a young Mexican woman who crosses multiple frontiers: in marrying one Juan Pedro Martínez Sánchez she is taken not only across “her father’s threshold” but also “over one border and beyond to a town en el otro lado–on the other side” and so to a new life in the United States (43). But she hopes for still greater transformations: “What Cleófilas has been waiting for, has been whispering and sighing and giggling for, has been anticipating since she was old enough to lean against the window displays of gauze and butterflies and lace, is passion” (44).

Hence the frontier that she most keenly feels is the translucent but stubbornly real distinction between her life and the world depicted in the commercial culture that lies on the other side of the shop window. She desires above all the emotional intensity that she senses lies on the other side of her television screen, “the kind the books and songs and telenovelas describe when one finds, finally, the great love of one’s life” (44).

Sadly, it seems, Juan Pedro is not the man to provide this soap opera exhilaration. Though Cleófilas likes the sound of her new hometown, Seguín, Texas, which resonates with “the tinkle of money” and inspires in her the notion that “she would get to wear outfits like the women on the tele” (45), the reality is that life in Texas is marked by “dust, despair” without even the compensation of a “leafy zócalo” or “huddled whispering on the church steps each Sunday” (50). This is a privatized despair, particularly claustrophobic for women, who have to learn “to depend on husbands” (51). But the menfolk can offer no salvation: they too are ground down, and they take out their own disappointment on their women. Juan Pedro starts slapping his wife around; Cleófilas comes to realize that “he doesn’t look like the men on the telenovelas” (49).

Beset by her husband’s violence and indifference (he doesn’t even “music or telenovelas or romance or roses” [49]), and fearful of an even darker undercurrent of murder and death, Cleófilas turns to the creek that borders her world: named perhaps Woman Hollering or Woman Weeping (La Gritona or La Llorona) it seems to articulate what she herself can still barely make out. For she has found passion and emotional intensity: but only in the form of passivity and suffering. And she is indeed living the life of a telenovela, “only now the episodes got sadder and sadder. And there were no commercials in between for comic relief. And no happy ending in sight” (52-53).

Pregnant (for a second time), Cleófilas goes for an ante-natal check-up, where her bruises are all too evident. The doctor examining her calls a friend with a plan to spirit the battered woman away from her husband, back to the rather different despair incarnated by life back home with her father and brothers again. As the two would-be rescuers chat about the situation, the inadvertently confirm the souring of Cleófilas’s dream: “Yeah, you got it. A regular soap opera sometimes. Qué vida, comadre. Bueno bye” (55).

We live the scripts that popular culture provides for us, Cisneros suggests both here and throughout this entire collection, if not necessarily in the ways we might originally hope or anticipate. Sometimes we can adapt them to our own ends; after all, Cleófilas’s putative saviors feel that they too are part of the same soap opera. That goes as much for the confident and aptly-named Felice who, in her own car, drives her hesitant charge out of town and over the creek, hollering in resonance with its unusual name and ceaseless flow.

Cisneros neither celebrates nor damns either telenovelas or Barbie, Marlboro Man or Flash Gordon or the litany of popular singers that thread their way through these stories. She understands the seduction of this commercial culture and also the way in which it provides a sort of common set of feelings that unsettles geographic or linguistic borders. And in the end, even the cheesiest of soap operas or the tackiest of song lyrics remind us indeed of the utopian injunction to affect and be affected that Cisneros, too, appears to embrace:

One way or another. Even if it’s only the lyrics to a stupid pop hit. We’re going to right the world and live. I mean live our lives the way lives were meant to be lived. With the throat and wrists. With rage and desire, and joy and grief, and love till it hurts, maybe. But goddamn, girl. Live. (163)

technorati tags: span322 literature affect chicanos

I know this is a few days late, but I just finished the book today I thought it better to write about it when I had finished it in entirety. I must say that I agree with Jon on enjoying the first half more. I was very impressed with several of the earlier stories including “Salvador Late or Early,” “One Holy Night,” and “Woman Hollering Creek.” All of these stories were written beautifully and poetically and had a certain truth or ‘from the heart’ quality that resonated very well with me. They were written powerfully but did not seem in any way over the top. Some of the latter stories however did seem a bit over the top, namely “Eyes of Zapata.” I will give her credit for the interesting premise to write a story on. Everyone who knows anything about Mexico or Mexican history has that image of Zapata as an iconic figure somehow engrained in their mind. Most people have a sense of Zapata as a heroic and revolutionary man who fought for the rights of the poor and disenfranchised in Mexico. However, I think Cisneros was trying to comment on the fact that for the most part, it is males who dominate people’s notion of history and females are largely left out of this narrative. For this reason, she was giving voice to the female side of the story and perhaps suggesting that females did not have the agency in those times to leave such a mark on history as their male counterparts. What I found problematic about this story however was the language and style of writing. It really felt over the top and I could almost not take it seriously. There seemed to be an element of shock value, and also one of self pity that made it hard for me to identify with the story or the character from whose voice the story was told.

I found the story, “Never Marry a Mexican,” to be both shocking and contradictory to many of the characters in the rest of the work. This women seemed to be representative of all of the qualities that the other characters lacked. She strongly pitted herself against the institution of marriage and never wanted to fall into the category of being dependent upon a man. Although she seemed somewhat empowered in this sense, she still seemed to be one of the most miserable characters in the book. She still managed to be deeply hurt by the man she fell in love with and in response, did hurtful things to others. Perhaps Cisneros is pointing out the double edged sword that comes along with love; on one hand, to let yourself become dependent and weak can lead to complete loss of power and heart ache, but letting yourself be deeply unattached can also lead one to the same point.

In the defense of the second half of the book, I really enjoyed the last story, “Bien Pretty.” I thought this story exemplified well the concept of authenticity or not quite fitting in fully to either the Latin or American cultural category. Flavio was portrayed as the ‘authentic’ Mexican who spoke Spanish as a native language and represented all things that were truly Mexican. Lupe on the other hand seemed to somehow be straddling the border between both cultural categories of identity. She was not as Mexican as the Mexicans and not as American as the Americans. It seemed to be in light of this, she almost compensated for this by commodifying what she felt was the Mexican image. There are many lists of things in this story, “(8) Oaxacan black pottery pieces, signed Diego Rivera monotype, upright piano, star-shaped piñata, (5) strings of chile lights….”(139). It felt to me as if in order to make up for this feeling of lack of ‘authentic’ Mexican identity, she surrounded herself in things that seemed representative of this identity.

All in all, I was very impressed with this book.

After class on friday, I kept thinking of how form was important to the telling of these particular stories and what it meant to use differing perspectives, one-sided dialogue, slang, and all the other literary techniques employed by Cisneros. It is the question I kept at the front of my mind while reading the second half of the book but still not an easy one to answer. 

Overall, I’ve quite enjoyed Cisneros’ work. The short, quick, succinct stories were refreshing, and yet managed to be complex. The short stories took a deep look at human relationships, with a clear focus on abuse towards women, and their struggles in an especially sexist society. I think it’s fair to say that for the most part, Cisnero is quite bitter about men, a possible reflection of her own life experiences.

I enjoyed how the book was ordered around growth, and aging. Cisnero is successfull at being true to the innocence of childhood, and as the book progresses, provides a realistic account of different stages of life. Cisnero was really good at making the reader understand and feel like the characters with her true to life writing and stories.

What I found was a slight disadvantage to the book were, in some cases, its short chapters. At first glance, they seem very random, unrelated; almost pointless. However, as we explored today with the Malborough Man story, upon further exploration, these stories prove to be an account of Chicano life which relates to the rest of the book.

I really enjoyed the ending of Cisnieros book, first there is the story of the eyes of Zapata the style of writing is very interesting is most in first person is like a self monologue. The story its self i did not like it portrays the woman as submissive and really with no say, and the view of men is the same as in most of her stories the Macho man, in the story the woman has to accept the fact that he has other wives and children other families and she just accepts this and not only that she even feels privilege because he keeps coming back to her whenever he wants, she leaves her family and everything just to be his lover not even his wife because he tells her he’ll “never” marry her yet she is very gratefully for a pair of earrings. This attitude to me does not seem typical of Spanish or Latin or even Mexican woman. That is why i like a quote in the story “bien pretty” After Lupe sees a lot of telenovela she mentions she “want[s] them to be woman who make things happen, not woman who things happen to” and then she makes a big distinction between the woman in the telenovelas and the woman in real life she says they are the ones who say “if you don’t like it largate, honey. Those woman. The ones I’ve known everywhere except on TV, in books and magazines. Las grildfriends. Las commadres. Our mamas and tias. passionate and powerful, tender and volatile, brave, And, above all, fierce.” I believe this is a better description of woman then what we have been seing in the other stories. In general all of cinieros writings really allow you to be submerged in the stories, she transmits realy well what these woman feel and what situations they are in. I didn’t like how she stereotyped a lot but i liked her writing enough that i want to read her other book “house of mango”

The run-on sentences and fragments mirror the non-linear structure of the book, resembling an oral history of a Chicana community. Although the structure is relatively unconventional it is effective in portraying an oral tradition or perhaps a manifestation of memory. The voices of the characters almost seem to come alive in “Little Miracles, Kept Promises”. The word orders of the little prayers mimicked Spanish grammatical rules and Cisneros seemed to create somewhat of a hybrid of both languages and perhaps create something that is neither Anglo-American or Mexican but instead, something that is identifiably Chicana.

The novel also demythisizes the typical Chicana image by portraying them as “the passive virgin, sinful seductress, and traitorous mother.” (Wikipedia) Most of the anecdotal stories are told from the perspective of women and portray the men as misogynists. One of the few that are not told by women is “Los Boxers”. A widowed husband has been seemingly domesticated after his wife’s death. He discusses ice cubes as a miracle solution to all stains. It is interesting to read how he remembers his wife through seemingly mundane chores and how the wheels have turned and he has taken a more feminine role.

Los Boxers, along with most of the stories, seem to be a critique of marriage. The husbands all seem to have mistresses and at times have kids outside their marriage. With the protagonist of “Los Boxers”, there seems to be a bit of ambiguity. He is telling the story instead of the wife.

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.

———-

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.

This compilation was difficult for me to relate to, because the majority of the stories conveyed more negative emotion and romantic sadness individually than I have experienced in the total emotional compilation of my life. As a result, I’m hesitant to even criticize the tales of these women when I have little experience of romantic abandonment or heartbreak. But I will attempt to nonetheless.

Eyes of Zapata begins with a description of woman doting over a man, confessing her intimate habits, both sexual and plainly affectionate, who somehow can remember every detail of a lover who she, in a way, barely knows. He clearly does not have respect for women, is disloyal; and as the story proceeds I stay completely confused as to what this relationship ever meant as she dwells further into a shroud of poetic abandonment. Does this reinforce the age-old theory that women fall for bad men? Or were the only men around at that time bad ones? This story does not arouse our sympathy in the way that Woman Hollering Creek indubitably does, as Inés was warned by her father to not get involved with the man. Alas, she rebels against her father’s will and, like he promised, suffers as a result of her relationship with this man.

Cisnero’s writing here is poetic, but whether or not it’s intended to be romantic is unclear; romance usually attempts to balance a certain amount of positive energy with negative, and there’s certainly none of that here. Ultimately the protagonist fancied herself different from other women (p.109) but suffered the same romantic death that so many did by the hands of this Zapata character, whose eyes are spread as sparsely as the heartbreak he’s caused. Wistful, worn-out and withered, the narrator speaks with nostalgia and hopeless romance about someone who deserves probably to die or at least be forced into celibacy forever. An excellent warning for anyone who is prone to confuse unconditional love with conditional sexual encounters.

I find Cisnero’s fragmented language and stream-of-consciousness writing style more enjoyable to read when the subjects are not so heavily wrought with emotion. “There was a Man, There was a Woman” utilizes her poetic style quite nicely, and much is left to the imagination, whereas “Eyes of Zapata” is probably the least concise thing I’ve ever read. I’m sorry to admit that I found it rather redundant in its endless reminiscence and mind-wandering. I’m also getting really hungry after all these mentions of tasty Mexican cuisine.

We get somewhat of an explanation for the infidelity of Mexican/Mexican-American men on pg 156 of “Bien Pretty” where Flavio states “Loving one person doesn’t take away from loving another. It’s that way with me with love. One has nothing to do with the other. In all seriousness and with all my heart I tell you this, Lupe.” One could discern that men perhaps can love more than one person at once, while women are doomed to be stricken with “one-itis” or obsession of the idea of a significant other. This character of Flavio is the most human of the men in the book, and perhaps that’s why the story ends with the woman’s sense of optimism; not necessarily as a woman but as an individual, which is what the book should strive for, in my opinion. A nice break from the men destroying the individuality of women.

Too often in the book did we see women seeking revenge and growing disdain for the other women their men were sleeping with, when likely they were all sharing similar states of emotion. If there is one important lesson that should be learned from Cisnero’s stories, that is to not depend on a man for happiness, and certainly not relinquish one’s sense of self-fulfillment for an idealistic/futile form of love.

In my last post I mentioned how I was able to read Woman Hollering Creek and Other Stories quickly, which is thanks to Cisneros’ unencumbered style and accessible language, the shortness of the stories and their ability to convey powerful emotions and vivid images succinctly, at least for the most part. But you can’t confuse a quick read with a simple read, because the more you examine this collection of stories, the more their sub-surface messages and clever narrative techniques emerge. Woman Hollering Creek and Other Stories is like a stylistic laboratory – it has a little bit of everything mixed into one powerful concoction. There are stories written in first and third person, stream-of-consciousness, little vignettes that capture a slice of someone’s life, and stories with a cast of characters and a plot with action. Some passages describe tender and beautiful scenes in poetic language and others are brutal or crass and use street language. But what makes this book great is not just the complex and varied style but the fact that there is always an underlying message – sometimes the message is clear and other times it’s obscured and you have to dig to get at it – you have to question each element in the passage and why it was written that way. It surprised me how much we were able to get out of our analysis of “The Marlboro Man” – how deceptively simple the passage was initially in comparison to what it had to offer. I would like to revisit other stories in more detail – even though I read them once I have the feeling that half of them is still lying under the surface.

Pleasing book to finish! I find that Cisneros’ writing style to be straight from the heart. Her writing consists of a variety of narratives that are extremely convincing. She is able to portray the characters in every short story so that they are distinctive and memorable. The first few stories, “My Lucy Friend Who Smells Like Corn”, “Eleven”, and “Tepeyec”, are written in the point of view of children and Cisneros does this very convincingly.
“I’m going to peel the scab from my knee and eat it, sneeze on the cat, give you thee M&M’s I’ve been saving for you since yesterday, comb your hair with my fingers and braid it into teeny-tiny braids real pretty” (pg.5) She is able to show how children are so direct with their words and how they honestly they express themselves. “Well, I couldn’t help but feel bad for the dip once she’s dead right? I mean, after I got over being mad” (pg.40)
The later stories such as “Never Marry a Mexican” and “Bien Pretty” the narrative switches to adults who are consumed by love and loss. What I love about Cisneros’ writing is her attention to detail. For example, in the story “Never Marry a Mexican” she goes into great detail describing where each gummy bear was placed and the sensation it gave to the mistress in the house. One story that seemed to stay in my mind was “There Was a Man, There was a Woman”. Although it is a very short story, its simplicity and message was effective. I couldn’t stop thinking how two people, who are at the same point in their lives longing for the same thing , will never meet due to the fact that they received their paychecks on different days and so will not visit the bar on the same days.