The Earl of Tennessee is about a recluse that lives in a basement apartment in Esperanza’s neighborhood. The vignette centers around no particular event; it simply paints a picture of the life of this lonely old man. Since he works nights, he stays inside with the blinds closed most of the day, only coming out to tell the neighborhood kids to stay quiet. He owns two dogs, always wears a felt hat, and repairs jukeboxes for a living. As is the case with many of these vignettes, The Earl of Tennessee gives us a few details about a certain neighbor of Esperanza’s whose life is otherwise left a mystery. It is up to the reader to “fill in the blanks” of the neighbor’s life; to extrapolate from what little information is given about them what their life might be otherwise. Earl clearly likes music; he owns “boxes and boxes” of records (p. 71) and gives them out to the children, “all except the country and western,” (p. 71), which he is clearly most fond of. This adds some depth to his character, as it enlightens the reader as to what Earl might do in his free time, and adds to the sense that he is a very solitary person; living alone, he only has his records to keep him company. The idea that Earl is a very lonely person is again emphasized when the reader learns that he sometimes comes home with a woman, walking into the apartment fast and leaving quickly, and that the woman apparently looks different each time. The implication here is that Earl regularly hires prostitutes, the last resort of a man who has never found love and is probably too late now to do so. This description of the prostitutes Earl comes home with is also another example of Esperanza’s unreliable narration, as she, in her innocence, believes that Earl is simply coming home with his wife, assuming that the varying descriptions of this woman’s appearance are simply a result of confusion about what she looks like, rather than realizing that they are in fact all different women.
Sire is a vignette that focuses on the theme of Esperanza’s growing maturity. It describes her attraction to a neighborhood boy and the various facets of her teenage infatuation. Esperanza’s parents tell her that Sire is a punk, and that she should not talk to him. This “bad boy” facet of his personality, though, only serves to make her more attracted to him. Esperanza is also slightly afraid of Sire; when she walks past him and his friends, she tries not to look at them. She is somewhat jealous of his girlfriend Lois, watching her and Sire ride around on Sire’s bike together, and informing the reader of her shoe-tying skills and their superiority to Lois’s. Finally, at the end of the chapter, Esperanza rather explicitly expresses her desire to start being sexually active, to have “a boy around my neck,” (p. 73) hating to have to spend “every evening talking to the trees, leaning out my window, imagining what I can’t see.” (p. 73) She also mentions a dream she had in which she was being held by a boy, and briefly fantasizes about being held and kissed by Sire.
In Four Skinny Trees, Esperanza gives the reader a rare showing of her frustration with the conditions she lives in. She begins the vignette with the sentence “They are the only ones who understand me,” (p. 74) which already indicates that she feels frustrated alienated. The only people she feels understand her are not, in fact, people, but rather four trees planted by the city in a futile attempt to beautify Mango Street. At first glance, they seem pathetic and flimsy, but they have great strength hidden in their underground root systems, and in their resilience as the continue to grow and never bend, as they “grab the earth between their hairy toes and bite the sky with violent teeth and never quit their anger.” (p. 74) The four trees also find solidarity in each other; as Esperanza explains, if one of them were to fail, “they’d all droop like tulips in a glass.” (pgs. 74-75) Esperanza finds comfort and strength in the endurance of these trees; when she is “too sad and too skinny to keep keeping,” (p. 75) she looks to the trees for inspiration, which grew despite being planted practically in the concrete, which never stop reaching for the sky.
No Speak English is another portrayal of one of Esperanza’s neighbors, this one even more wretched than most. She is an old lady, very obese, who reluctantly moved to America after her son made enough money to buy her a trip from Mexico and to take her in. She does not speak any English, and misses Mexico dearly. Her homesickness is painfully apparent, as she spends all day listening to and singing Mexican songs. Her son clearly tries hard to make her feel more at home, even painting the walls pink to resemble those of her old house, but the old lady does not become any less miserable. Her son becomes increasingly frustrated by her homesickness, upsetting her further, and the final straw occurs when her grandson begins to sing the jingle for a Pepsi ad he saw on TV; the woman’s refrain of “No Speak English,” from which the title of this vignette comes, turns from an explanation of her language skills to an imperative, as her grandchild’s assimilation into American language and culture is breaking her heart. The old woman’s uncomfortableness with English and American culture is evident as English is described as “the language that sounds like tin” (p. 78) This vignette depicts one of the sorrier members of Esperanza’s neighborhood, and possibly also is a reflection on Esperanza’s wish for a nice, quiet home of her own; in her own way, Esperanza is homesick too, although she yearns for a home that she does not yet have.
Rafaela Who Drinks Coconut & Papaya Juice on Tuesdays, is yet another vignette about yet another neighbor pining for yet another unattainable dream. This time, the neighbor in question is a beautiful young lady with an abusive husband who goes so far as to lock her inside when he is out. Rafaela listens to the music coming from the bar down the street and wishes that she could go and dance there. Since she, being imprisoned in her own house, cannot go anywhere, she instead gives a dollar to the children, asking them to buy her coconut or papaya juice from the store, and drinks her juice, wishing there were lighter and sweeter drinks to drink and a lighter and sweeter life to live. Again, this is a portrayal of a neighbor of Esperanza’s whose life is far from perfect, and who is made very human and very relatable by the small and insignificant details of her day-to-day life that are given to the reader.
Sally is a very intense and moving vignette about a girl who Esperanza admires very much and who is very pretty, but who has a troubled home life. Esperanza wants to be like Sally; she wants to learn how to “paint [her] eyes like Cleopatra,” (p. 81) and wants Sally to teach her how. She absolutely adores Sally, her looks, her clothes, everything, and wants very much to be friends with Sally. As well as finding her quite beautiful, Esperanza sees something mysterious in Sally as well; she sees how Sally spends much of her time alone, “as if no one was watching,” (p. 82) and asks several questions of Sally, like “What do you think about when you close your eyes like that? And why do you always have to go straight home after school?” Esperanza sees how Sally is reluctant to go home, and knows that her father is very strict and disapproves strongly of Sally showing any hint of sexuality. Esperanza empathizes deeply with Sally, possibly more deeply than with any other character so far, and wishes for Sally to find love.
