Sandra Cisneros

June 18, 2009

Dear Readers,

I am finally back from my recent book tour for the 25th Anniversary edition of The House on Mango Street. I feel as if I campaigned for president. I squeezed hands, hugged shoulders, had my picture taken holding startled babies, and smiled into a million cell phones. It was exhilarating, exhausting, and I'm happy to be home.

Thank you to all the people who came to see me and brought along your parents and children and aunts and uncles. Your smiles, hugs and stories sustained me through the blur of hotel rooms and airport terminals. I ate too much, too late, and watched too many movies. I got sick, and then I got sicker. I realized something, too. I'm an introvert, and though I probably do a good job of fooling others, I'm not so good at fooling myself.

If you haven't seen the new edition of Mango, I encourage you to take a look. Besides a new cover, there's a new introduction too, which explains in great detail who I was when I wrote the book, and why I wrote it.

My favorite places I visited were off the beaten track, the Rio Grande Valley, or places I'd never seen before — the Columbia River and the Yakima Valley; Kansas City, Missouri; and the stunning Biltmore Hotel in Coral Gables, which made me feel like a movie queen. One miraculous moment happened when we became lost in Miami: a flock of wild Guacamaya parrots flew overhead and guided us to where we needed to go.

What else did I learn along the way? Librarians should be given Nobel Prizes for the work they do for humanity. Atlanta has some of the wackiest stories on earth. The beds at the Chicago Park Hyatt look like the clouds over Lake Michigan. There are lilac bushes bigger than garages in the Yakima Valley, and in Mexico I have a reputation for being "militante." A Mexican consul told me this. Was he talking about me? Maybe he had me confused with a Mexican politician.

There were many highlights to the tour, mainly the terrific people I met who drove me here and there. But I must mention the memory of the most delicious breakfast tacos at the Rex on 17th Street, downtown McAllen, and a modest and amazing woman named la Señora Lulú who cut my hair while I was visiting that same town. I also felt like the luckiest person on earth, because I got to walk arm-in-arm in New York City with Elena Poniatowska.

Now to quiet all the racket in my head and return to that profession called writing. If you want me, I'll be in my office. See you at the Macondo readings, end of July, and not before.

abrazos,

Sandra

P.S. I've been invited to install a Day of the Dead altar for my mother at Chicago's National Museum of Mexican Art. More details to follow later.