Barnes & NobleAngela's Ashes by Frank McCourt

Upstairs / Downstairs

"I am always at a loss how much to believe my own stories." -Washington Irving, TALES OF A TRAVELER In 1996, Simon & Schuster published Frank McCourt's memoir, ANGELA'S ASHES. It was his grim and moving account of growing up in Limerick, Ireland's depression-era poverty. Though originally born in Brooklyn, New York, his parents returned to Ireland after the Crash, and the death of Frank's little sister Margaret, whom family and friends alike regarded as a lucky talisman in life; a tragic reminder of the McCourt's bad luck in death. The critics loved his story, bestowing on McCourt not only the Los Angeles Times Book Award, but the National Book Critics Circle Award and the Pulitzer Prize as well. On New York Times' bestseller list for 117 weeks, everybody from critics to weekend bookworms seemed to love Frank McCourt. Then they forgot ASHES was a memoir. Irish Eyes McCourt's newfound popularity didn't rise from his chosen subject matter. Authors of all nationalities have been writing about extreme poverty for centuries, including the Irish. Rather, it was the vehicle which Frank employed to relay his story of impoverishment: through the innocent eyes of a child who inherited a knack for storytelling from his father. Upon arriving in Ireland, rather than the salvation they seek, the McCourts find more obstacles in their path. A brief stay with relatives on Frank's mother's side is met with ridicule due to his father being from the North, his heavy drinking and his mother's inability to provide maternally for her children. Driven from one relative to the next, the McCourts wind up in Limerick where their search for affordable housing turns up only the most primitive of accommodations, a two up, two down (referring to the number of rooms on each floor) with the latter prone to flooding which forces the family to take up residence on the second floor, they in turn refer to as Italy for its drier climate. They christen the first floor Ireland. Angela, Frank's mother, lives in a perpetual state of postmortem depression. She sleeps most of the time, and when awake spends it staring down the ashes in the fireplace grate. Having lost three children - two since returning to Ireland - she is the picture of hopelessness. Malachy, Frank's father, is described in sharp contrast to his wife. He lives as if he hasn't got a care in the world, ever ready to die for Ireland whilst drinking away the family's limited resources every chance he gets. He's a man who refuses to recognize failure when it's staring him in the face, forever the optimist even though his prospects are nil. He lives in a bubble, booze insulating him from his critics which range from relatives, to the charities that are his family's life-line, to the Church itself which permeates every aspect of Limerick society. Still, Malachy remains unfazed. Cock n' Bull With parents such as his, and little brothers with empty bellies, Frank becomes self-reliant at a very young age. Barely in his teens, he puts his cleverness to work with the goal of socking enough money away for a ticket to America. He takes on a string of odd jobs that barely cover expenses, resorting to the occasional shoplift to make ends meet. Along the way, his knowledge of the world around him grows, and therein lies the beauty of McCourt's story. Although ANGELA'S ASHES is a story about abject poverty, at its heart is an account of how a child living in dire circumstances without the benefit of elders steering him a course, learns through hard knocks and determination, a necessary trait in the pseudo-theocratic Irish state where just getting basic information takes perseverance: "The dictionary says, Virgin woman . . . who is and remains in a state of inviolate chastity. "Now I have to look up inviolate and chastity and all I can find here is that inviolate means not violated and chastity means chaste and that means pure from unlawful sexual intercourse. Now I have to look up intercourse and that leads to intromittent, the copulatory organ of any male animal. Copulatory leads to copulation . . . and I don't know what that means and I'm too weary going from one word to another in this heavy dictionary which leads me on a wild goose chase from this word to that word and all because the people who wrote the dictionary don't want the likes of me to know anything." After publishing ASHES, McCourt increasingly found himself under scrutiny. It reads as the stuff of fiction, and therefore, according to some, it must be fictitious. It hasn't helped that he purportedly admitted to some fabrication in interviews. Understandably, when reading a biographical account we have high expectations for its accuracy, but this is a memoir, and as anyone working in the legal or psychology professions knows, memory isn't reliable. That's why trial lawyers generally rely on experts rather than eyewitnesses to make a case. (Saw that on The Discovery Channel; or was it Law & Order? ) Although McCourt may have embellished parts of his account, they're improvements rather than distractions from the story. What's a good fish story, after all, without embellishment? Regardless, ASHES is a good read. With it, McCourt displays a level of storytelling we're lucky to get from a master, let alone a former school teacher on his first time out. When writing about the past it's difficult not to wax saccharine over nostalgia, yet somehow McCourt keeps it in check, a challenge for even accomplished writers. With ANGELA'S ASHES, Frank McCourt has arrived, delivering an often heartbreaking story of growing up in conditions no one would choose for themselves, yet he manages to keep it light enough that an upbeat finish - though logically incongruous with Frank's struggle - is not only possible, but inevitable. 'Tis.