Setting
The Enigmatic Setting
The backdrop of Beyond the Mango Tree serves as the lifeblood of the narrative. In this foreign realm, Sarina's mother imposes strict boundaries on her daughter, rarely granting permission for Sarina to venture beyond the safety of their household's confines.
Unfamiliar and Alluring Liberia
For Sarina, Liberia embodies a world that is both unknown and enchanting. Her first-person narration weaves together the vibrant tapestry of sights and scents that fill her experiences. When she steps into the bustling Joe Bar market, she paints a picture so vivid that the reader finds themselves spinning alongside her, catching fleeting glimpses of bustling stalls and vibrant goods without lingering on any single image.
Joe Bar defies my imagination. A sprawling hive of activity, it stands as a giant circle capped with a flimsy corrugated tin roof, precariously resting on thick wooden poles. Inside, a cacophony of voices mingles with the unpleasant aromas.... Liberian women are seated among a bizarre assortment of goods, restless children, and dusty bare feet. The sticky air clings to the scent of milk left sour and fish far from the ocean. Though uneasy in this setting, my determination to find Boima propels me forward. I trail closely behind Te Te, almost brushing against her as the crowd gently nudges us through a humid wave of bodies. We pass countless tables; some blaze with candies of vivid pinks, greens, and blues, while others display a curious mix of leather bracelets, shoe polish, cheap plastic sandals, and hair oil. Upon reaching the fruit tables, Te Te wordlessly hands me the list, and I recite it to her.
Thrills and Unease
The allure and intimidation of Liberia take turns tugging at Sarina's heart. Her mother, however, shrinks away from this alien environment, unable to find joy amidst the unfamiliar. Her struggle with diabetes and the absence of her husband render her experience in this lively land one of fear rather than wonder. Thus, the vibrant pulses of Liberia become the backdrop against which the tensions between Sarina and her mother play out.
Literary Qualities
Zemser masterfully employs the technique of a story nestling within another to heighten the cultural nuances that separate Sarina and Boima. Boima advises Sarina against scaling the mango tree, their clandestine rendezvous spot, all by herself. To drive his point home, he recounts a tale of a young lad named Tuesday, who dared to climb the tree to procure sustenance for his village, only to be bitten by the venomous serpent residing among its branches. With the grim knowledge of his impending demise, the boy defiantly seized the snake by its throat, ending its life, and in turn, sparing his village from its lethal threat. Villagers gathered beneath the tree, where both the boy and the snake hung lifeless from its limbs. Tuesday's mother wept, while his father severed the snake's head, interring it in the earth. Intrigued by the tale, Sarina interrupts Boima, inquiring about the village's fate and whether Tuesday returned to life. In response, Boima gently explains, "When you die . . . you ain' never comin' back. Ehn't you know?" Sarina, disheartened by the story's conclusion, exclaims that this surely cannot "be the end of the story," mourning its melancholy. Boima, however, imparts the lesson learned: "that boy Tuesday, he do something good for he people. Now everybody free to eat the mango." From Boima's viewpoint, the story carries a cautionary message: "Never climb the mango tree by you one. Snake who live in the mango tree never forget he brother."
Contrasting Cultural Narratives
For a child raised in America, such tales bewilder...
(This entire section contains 1004 words.)
Unlock this Study Guide Now
Start your 48-hour free trial and get ahead in class. Boost your grades with access to expert answers and top-tier study guides. Thousands of students are already mastering their assignments—don't miss out. Cancel anytime.
Already a member? Log in here.
rather than enlighten. Customarily, American children's stories culminate in joyous resolutions, much like the optimistic finale of pursuing the American Dream, which promises boundless success, flourishing prosperity, and community admiration to those who chase their aspirations tirelessly. However, this doesn't always mirror reality, and narratives like the one shared above afford children an insight into their place within a community and the inevitable intertwining of life and death. Growing up in a society that champions individualism, Sarina struggles to grasp the allegory of self-sacrifice for the community's greater good. Throughout the storytelling, Sarina persistently interrupts Boima, yet upon grasping the warning embedded in the tale, she dismisses it, yearning for a merrier story to cleanse her mind of such somber imagery.
Unique Narrative Style
In her novel, Zemser crafts a unique narrative by adopting Sarina's first-person perspective, rendered in the immediacy of the present tense. This choice allows readers to experience the unfolding events alongside Sarina, deepening their connection with her journey. Although first-person narration may seem to limit an objective view of the characters, it enriches understanding by presenting the world through the eyes of a young girl, revealing much about her environment, family, and friendships. As readers acclimate to Sarina's blend of innocence and insight, the rich personalities of those around her gradually unfold. Initially, characters may seem one-dimensional: a mother plagued by illness and frustration, a father entrusting his daughter with significant responsibilities, dutiful servants, and a friend who embodies the freedom Sarina yearns for. However, as the narrative progresses, these characters spring to life, as much by what Sarina omits as by what she discloses. Upon Sarina's first encounter with Boima, she perceives a boy blessed with the liberty she so craves. Yet, through their exchanges, readers discover what evades Sarina's notice—that Boima shoulders the burden of crafting and selling baskets to support his family, living in poverty and often enduring hunger. "I the one," Boima reveals to Sarina when she inquires about the basket weaving. "I sellin' fo' my ma," he continues, "Every mornin', sellin'. Money fo' rice, money fo' groun' pea." As their dialogue unfolds, Sarina learns of Boima's role in supporting his family following his father's death. Uncertain how to react, Sarina simply remarks, "I don't have any brothers or sisters." Boima acknowledges her with a nod and gentle smile, the same warm grin that comforted her the previous day. There are no words to bridge the silence between them, no rituals of comfort that adults often employ. In the end, Sarina can only reflect on her own circumstances, her status as an only child. This fragmented conversation portrays their open, honest interaction, contrasting the careful restraint they display with adults.
Poetic Language and Vivid Imagery
Zemser's prose frequently rises to the level of poetry, employing vivid descriptions to paint Liberia in a tapestry of vibrant colors, rich flavors, and evocative scents. Consider the opening paragraph:
The earth in Africa is a tapestry of red. During the rainy season, waters surge through the land, swiftly filling the concave dips along the rust-hued roads, causing them to overflow. These are not the simple rain puddles I am used to in Boston. These are African rain puddles, profound and brimming with mud the shade of crumbling clay bricks. They unsettle me, these deep pools of water, for in the relentless rain, they seem to never empty.
In Zemser's work, alliteration plays a pivotal role—particularly the repetition of "r" sounds—to weave a harmonious flow. Additionally, the drawn-out vowel sounds in phrases like "colored roads" and "deep and soaked" echo the boundless expanse of the African landscape, with its endless vistas and water-laden earth. The paragraph's consonants further contribute to this rhythmic cadence. Phrases such as "crumbled bricks" and "time to empty" dance across the tongue with a deliberate tempo, enhancing the fluidity of Zemser's prose. This orchestrates a world steeped in shades of red, water, and an underlying fear, all bound together in lyrical harmony.
Colloquial Language and Authenticity
One of the most captivating features of Beyond the Mango Tree is its embrace of colloquial language. The Liberian characters converse in English, heavily accented with a dialect that is largely understandable to the reader. Occasionally, Sarina clarifies a term within her narrative, or the author uses dialogue to shed light on the meaning, yet much of the dialect is presented without explanation. This technique empowers the reader to play a more engaged role, taking on the challenge of deciphering the story's intricacies independently.
For Further Reference
Publisher's Reflections on Beyond the Mango Tree
A captivating critique from Publishers Weekly, October 1998, explores the depths of Beyond the Mango Tree.
Insights from the Children's Literature Community
In November 1998, the Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books delivered a thoughtful examination of the enchanting tale, Beyond the Mango Tree.
Hazel Rochman's Perspectives
On November 1st, 1998, Hazel Rochman penned a discerning review for Booklist, unveiling the layers of emotion and adventure within Beyond the Mango Tree.
By January 17th, 1999, Rochman had once again turned her insightful gaze towards this evocative narrative, sharing her thoughts in the prestigious New York Times Book Review.