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Summary: Amazing
Review: Truly amazing. I come from a background as opposite and different from McCourt's as humanly possible. And because I am not Irish, have no Irish blood in my family tree, and am not Catholic, I truly did not believe I'd get "into" this book. I hate to admit when I'm wrong, but boy, was I wrong! Truly amazing writing. I am in love with "little" Frank McCourt. And yes, we ALL want the sequel. Give him time! Perhaps we'll get it yet!
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Summary: A comparison with Llewelyn's "How Green Was My Valley"
Review: Angela's Ashes, by Frank McCourt, Scribner, 1996 (first publication), 365pp, Hardcover. How Green Was My Valley, Richard Llewellyn, Aeonian Press, First published 1940, 447pp, Hardcover. One of my favorite Monty Python skits is the one in which a bunch of middle-aged fogies sit around a table mumbling about how hard life was when they were children. When talk turns to walking uphill "both ways" to school, one cannot help but laugh at how the older generation always has to talk about how tough things were in the old days. It makes me wonder if we'll be complaining about how we only had 10 MIPS workstations to our grandchildren. Well, here we have a couple of books about growing up deprived. McCourt's autobiographical account of growing up poor in Ireland in the thirties and forties, and Llewellyn's fictional depiction of growing up in Wales as a coal miner's son in what could have been the same period (there was no mention of world war two, though there was mention of Churchill, so it could have been in the twenties, or might be set before the first world war). Llewellyn himself had a career in hotel management in London and Venice, and spent a few months as a miner as part of his research in writing his novel. Despite the superficial subject and narrative (both were told from a child's point of view: Frank McCourt in the case of his memoir, and Huw Morgan, in the case of Llewellyn's story ) similarities, these are very different books, and very different stories.. The differences show up early. Here's McCourt, telling us about the Irish birthright: "People everywhere brag and whimper about the woes of their early years, but nothing can compare with the Irish version: the poverty; the shiftless loquacious alcoholic father; the pious defeated mother moaning by the fir;...;the English and the terrible things they did to us for eight hundred long years... Above all-we were wet." (McCourt, Chapter 1) Huw Morgan, on the other hand, looks back at his childhood with much more nostalgia: "There was a smell with that soup... It comes to me now, round and gracious and vital with herbs fresh from the untroubled ground, a peaceful smell of home and happy people. Indeed, if happiness has a smell, I know it well, for our kitchen always had it faintly, but in those days it was all over the house." (Llewellyn, Chapter 1) Both books are written well---Llewellyn's voice by itself will bring you to Morgan's beautiful green valleys of times past, and his careful use of foreshadowing jerks you back to Morgan's ugly present. McCourt's voice is not as distinctive at first, probably because he is American, but as you read along you realize that he is pulling you back to his consciousness of childhood, and he is almost embarrassingly honest, but so straightforward that you cannot help but laugh at the situations he describes, and then afterwards wonder how you could have laughed at such a horrible situation. Yet if both books are written so well that I would be hard put to rank one above another purely on style (I'd rank Llewellyn as a better writer, but just by a hair), the moods the authors try to achieve are miles apart. Perhaps it is because one knows that McCourt makes it to America and does well (He taught writing at Stuyvesant High School in New York), so one can look forward to hearing about how things do get better for him, even as suffers "pompous priests" and "bullying schoolmasters". McCourt literally looks forward from his childhood out, and gets you to laugh at the contradictions and insanity of a Catholic upbringing all the while. When he finally "succeeds" in his plan to emigrate, you cheer for him. Llewellyn, on the other hand, has Huw Morgan look back to an idyllic state while hinting at the sadness to come, establishing a melancholy mood for the entire novel. In the hands of a lesser writer, this mood might have overpowered the rest of the story, but Llewellyn succeeds in aligning your interest with that of the characters, which compels the reader to turn page after page, wondering "what happens next?" You cringe, when Huw says he's going to be a coal miner "just like Dada" when his own father knows that there's a limit to how much coal there is left. As Llewellyn sneaks in the growing intrusion of the mine into the valley and the lives of its people, you slowly identify with Huw Morgan's horror at the desecration of his childhood home. Even the depiction of religion differs between the two stories. For Morgan's family, religion binds the family and village together, and the village preacher is very much "one of them." For McCourt, the priesthood made a mockery of charity, and religion was an irrationality used by the priesthood for their benefit. For Llewellyn's characters, it is the mine owners and the invading English who are the villains. For McCourt, it is the character failures of his parents, as well as the harshness of society around them, that led his family into poverty. As an immigrant (though under much less dire circumstances), I identify much more with McCourt and his story. The irrationality he faced as a child mirror my own experiences going to a Methodist missionary school. McCourt's cheerful optimism about better things to come despite the circumstances makes his memoir a more authentic experience compared to Llewellyn's novel about losing the idyllic life of times past. But Llewellyn's use of language is so beautiful that I'm going to have to buy a copy of this book (and there I was thinking that using the library would save me on book costs!). Just be sure to clear out hours from your schedule if you plan to read either of these books, because both are compelling and it would be a shame to have to rush through either of them.
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Summary: humor and pathos in the slums of Limerick
Review: I was kept in stitches by Frank McCourt's candid, colloquial style, in which every dreadful episode of his childhood was viewed with the sarcasm that made his English classes at my alma mater, Stuyvesant High School, so enjoyable. If only the ending of the book had not degenerated into the hackneyed naive-immigrant-loses-his-virginity-to-the-vixenish-socialite episode, McCourt's saga would have rated an unmitigated ten.
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Summary: One can't read this book without being deeply touched.
Review: From tears to laughter and back again. Spellbound by this man's ability to transform his memories into word pictures loaded with feelings so heavy, I became that child who he was - slogging through his days, never sure of food or shelter, never sure if there would be "someone" there to take care of him, never sure of himself. I was weary from the journey but exhilirated by the destination. I have recommended this book to all of my friends.
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Summary: Angela's Ashes is a must read novel!
Review: Angela's Ashes by Frank McCourt is a terrific memoir based on his childhhood growing up in Limerick Ireland. The author speaks about all of the hardships that his family suffered through. All of the poverty and the hardships they faced. It was a tremendous achievement of the author. The book was brillantly written in a form of humor and encouragment towards the reader. Throughout his writings, it was shown that there are no regrets about his childhood. There is no hatred towards his family for having so little. The story is extremely insightful and by the end, you will have fallen in love with the McCourt family history. Everyone would enjoy reading this book because it allows us to see other countries customs and to appreciate all that we have and work for. It will prove to your hearts that everyone can make it through the rough times that come our way.
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Summary: The best book I have ever read
Review: I have to say that this is the only book that when I reached the end I turned right back to page one and started reading it all over again.
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Summary: Angela's Ashes is a book so well written it could be sung.
Review: I usually avoid books dealing with hardship or abuse involving children, too hard to take. I was filled with curiosity about this book because of my own Irish roots. I knew it would be painful and it was. Frank McCourt has written of the most starkly horrific childhood imaginable with complete honesty and thorough detail. The miracle of this book is his telling of it through the indomitable, tongue-in-cheek Irish viewpoint. His words are strung together like an infectious melody that pulls you forward, one minute aghast, the next in tears, the next, laughing. The story created for me a new understanding of the Irish talent for creating drama, heros and hope out of incredible hardship and tragedy. Thank you, Frank McCourt! P.S. I hope to learn what happend to poor Michael, Alfie and Angela. I also hope Malachy, Sr. is burning in hell!
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Summary: I would love to read more. McCourt needs to write a sequel.
Review: Angela's Ashes paints unforgetable scenes of poverty few of us have seen. McCourt's ability to share his families lowest points and show humor is a true gift. I cried buckets on one page only to laugh at the next. I enjoyed his ability to write from his "child's eye" view and not offer excuses for each character's behavior. Periodically, while reading, I would approximate Angela's age. Poor Angela. How could you not cry for such a young woman, eroded by her environment, who lost so much dear to her. Written as both vulnerable and strong,Angela used every option available to take care of her most valuable possessions-her children. The ending was disappointing to me because McCourt stole money and abandon his mother and brothers to pursue "a better life". Frank McCourt is a fabulous story teller and I hope there is a sequel for his American adventures and to address my concerns for his family left beind.
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Summary: Familiar Ground in Angela's Ashes
Review: I loved it. It was so familiar; we were poor, but never that poor, my father was an Australian shearer - seasonal work only. Being of Irish descent, living in country Australia and Catholic (taught by Irish Nuns & Priests) all the fears of mortal sin and damnation, the guilt, the confessional... I can't give Frank a 10 out of 10 because I want more - I want to know everything that happened to him in America right up to this day.
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Summary: BITTERSWEAT BOOK
Review: Frank McCourt's book is brilliantnly written. I loved it, even if repetitive sometimes. Sometimes it was almost painful how much I could relate to some mentality descriptions of the social envrioment in which young McCourt has grown up. It is funny, for I have never been to Ireland, nor met anyone Irish, but have grown up in another poor European catholic country (Croatia). The paragraph that stroke me the most as very familiar is this one: "The master says it's a glorious thing to die for the Faith and Dad says it's a glorious thing to die for Ireland and I wonder if there's anyone in the world who would like us to live." That was almost enough for me to love this book. Thank you, Frank McCourt, for having the word in your heart to express it!
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