'An astonishing book... completely mesmerising - you can open it almost at random and find writing to make you gasp.' Sue Gaisford, Independent 'The most remarkable thing about Frank McCourt, apart from his survival, is his lack of sorrowfulness. Angela's Ashes sings with irreverent Limerick wit. It makes you smile at the triumph of the storyteller, a tougher specimen who escaped Limerick's teeming alleys through intelligence and cunning and lived to tell the tale.' Penny Perrick, The Times
--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
From the Back Cover
When I look back on my childhood, I wonder how I survived at all. It was, of course, a miserable childhood: the happy childhood is hardly worth your while. Worse than the ordinary miserable childhood is the miserable Irish childhood and worse yet is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood.
People everywhere brag or whimper about the woes of their early years, but nothing can compare with the Irish version: the poverty; the shiftless loquacious father; the pious defeated mother moaning by the fire; pompous priests; bullying schoolmasters; the English and the terrible things they did to us for eight hundred long years. Above all we were wet…'
So begins Frank McCourt's stunning memoir of his childhood in Ireland and America, a recollection in Ireland and America, a recollection of unvarnished truth and no self pity, of grinding poverty and indomitable spirit that will live in the memory long after the tape has ended.