Angela’s
Ashes is not a melt-your-heart, sappy, feel-good tale. It
is crass, brutally soul wrenching, I-cannot-believe-this-actually-happened
memoir depicting the life of Frank McCourt growing up in the slums of Limerick,
Ireland. What makes a good memoir is one that is quite shocking, almost
unbelievable, yet underneath the initial shock the story must settle inside
your mind and rock your core until you know that amidst all the sufferings and
misdeeds that occur around the world, this personal chronicle must be nothing
but the truth. And my friends, Angela’s
Ashes does just this. Frank McCourt has a story to tell, a story that seems
to get progressively worse and worse, yet amongst the troubles and trials that
were ever-present in his young life, a sarcastic sense of humor remains. Angela’s Ashes is a book that you cannot
forget. It’s a dark read, a good read, and above all, it’s funny. In that way
that shouldn’t be like laughing in church.
One thing that makes
this book a stand-out among the other memoirs is the writing style itself.
Frank McCourt is one of the only authors I have ever read that successfully is
able to capture the mindset of a child. His thoughts are ones that could one
come from a young kid, and as he grows, he is unapologetically blunt and
inappropriate, just like those immature preteens boys that would laugh at fart
jokes on the school bus. Usually reading a book in such a style as this would
be revolting. Yet Frank is able to sound so refreshing, so real, like he is
telling you the tale of his childhood right next to you in a pub with a pint in
hand. What also makes his writing unique is his dark humor. Like I mentioned
above, his humor not only remains constant throughout the book, but in your
life as well, and for a while after reading his story you like to think of just
yourself as witty and hilariously sarcastic as he is.
There are many purposes
for writing a story like this one. Frank McCourt had personal reasons, I would
assume, for getting all of his memories down on paper. But there are so many
connections with his story that can relate to the reader’s life that make his
memoir, at times, seem like a fictional tale aimed at a young audience to teach
them lessons. For example one lesson that is continuous through the book is that
even though you are poor and have no shoes to wear and your dad is drinking the
dole money and your brothers are all hungry, you can be rich in your mind. Like
his school master said, “You have to study and learn so that you can make up
your own mind about history and everything else but you can’t make up an empty
mind. Stock your mind, stock your mind. You might be poor, your shoes might be
broken, but your mind is a palace.” This quote exemplifies the fact that
learning was a vital key to Frank’s survival. He even equates Shakespeare with the
upmost riches, “I don't know what it means and I don't care because it's
Shakespeare and it's like having jewels in my mouth when I say the words.”
To conclude, Angela’s Ashes is a book unlike anything
else I have ever written. A bit too ramble-y and majorly detailed at times, the
book still manages to shine beneath the heaps and heaps of particulars that bog
down each page. I give it a strong B+ because of the unique writing style but
knocked points because of the heavy details. All in all, I do not regret
reading this book and do recommend it. After all, when it comes down to the
last page, you feel as if you are losing a friend and wish you could just sit
with him and listen to his stories drinking lemonade and eating fish and chips
just one more time.