Angela's Ashes is the memoir of Frank McCourt's poverty-ridden childhood in Limerick, Ireland. Born in 1930 in Brooklyn, Frank returns to Ireland several years later with his family. Far from delivering the better quality of life they are seeking, the chronic alcoholism of Frank's father Malachy ensures that the family is plunged deeper into poverty and desperation.
With all the ingenuousness that only a child's perspective can shed, Frank tells us his remarkable story. It is a story of too much hardship. A story of being constantly cold and hungry. Of having to do the circuit of Limerick pubs and bars in search of his often drunken father. Of being sent out into bitter conditions by a desperate mother, to find food for younger siblings, or gather coal from the sides of the road for a fire.
It is a story of too many losses. the loss of three infant siblings from poverty-induced illnesses. The loss of the old blind gentleman for whom he reads. The loss of his intelligent young companion in the hospital when he is convalescing from typhoid fever. The loss from consumption of his first sweetheart.
And yet … with all this despair, neither Frank nor his story, ever fall into the abyss of total hopelessness. The book's pages are adorned by a parade of colourful characters from Frank's childhood days: the relatives and neighbours, the schoolmasters and priests, a vast array of boyhood companions.
Fortunately, the Irish wit is never far away and there are moments when we find it difficult to resist a chuckle. Such as when Frank and younger brother Malachy try on the false teeth of their parents. Or when Frank is recounting the pranks of an older neighbourhood boy, far more versed in the facts of life than himself. So awful is life for young Frank though, that we find ourselves feeling guilty to be chuckling at these incidents. Even for the briefest of moments.
Given the decision to read this book, one cannot avoid it's being terribly sad. Indeed, even distressingly so. Yet somehow, out of all the privations, there are gifts for Frank. From a fatherwho could give him little else, the gift of being able to appreciate, and tell, a good story. From the incapacitated but kindly neighbour he goes to work with to deliver coal, the gift of fledgling self-belief. And, from one priest who finally displays a degree of compassion towards his many woes, perhaps the gift of forgiveness.
Be sure to have a good supply of tissues at the ready if you decide to read Angela's Ashes. But if you do, I promise you this is a book you will not forget in a hurry.