Amazon.co.uk Review
The sequel to Frank McCourt's memoir of his Irish Catholic boyhood,
Angela's Ashes, picks up the story in October 1949 upon his arrival in America. Though he was born in New York, the family had returned to Ireland due to poor prospects in the United States. Now back on American soil, this awkward 19-year-old, with his "pimply face, sore eyes, and bad teeth," has little in common with the healthy, self-assured college students he sees on the subway and dreams of joining in the classroom. Initially, his American experience is as harrowing as his impoverished youth in Ireland, including two of the grimmest Christmases ever described in literature. McCourt views the U.S. through the same sharp eye and dark humour that distinguished his first memoir; race prejudice, casual cruelty and dead-end jobs weigh on his spirits as he searches for a way out. A glimpse of hope comes from the army, where he acquires some white-collar skills, and from New York University, which admits him without a high school diploma. But the journey toward his position teaching creative writing at Stuyvesant High School is neither quick nor easy. Fortunately, McCourt's openness to every variety of human emotion and longing remains exceptional; even the most damaged, difficult people he encounters are richly rendered individuals with whom the reader can't help but feel uncomfortable kinship. The magical prose, with its singing Irish cadences, brings grandeur and beauty to the most sorrowful events, including the final scene, in which Angela's ashes are scattered over a Limerick graveyard. --
Wendy Smith
Review
How do you follow up a sensation like Angela's Ashes, McCourt's witty, bare-knuckled, Pulitzer Prize-winning account of his impoverished Irish-American childhood? The answer is simple: write a sequel which is even better than the original. The story of the author's progress from penniless 20-year-old immigrant with rotten teeth, red gummy eyes and no qualifications to graduate of New York University and popular high-school teacher in 'Tis is as compelling and every bit as good as its predecesor. His portrait of New York in the 1950s and '60s is rich in anecdote, depicting the eccentric landladies and the lost souls of the various immigrant communities, while recreating the sheer excitement of life in the optimistic New World, where everything is possible. McCourt tells his story at a cracking pace, with irrepressible humour, but also confronts his dark past - the drunken father, and the unfortunate mother, Angela, who follows him and his three brothers to New York, complaining all the way. McCourt confirms his status as a major talent - a compelling comic writer of unusual scope and compassion. (Kirkus UK)
While not as tightly structured as his Pulitzer Prize-winning Angela's Ashes (1996), the irrepressible McCourt's follow-up memoir has the same driving rhythm, charm, and infectious humor that so captivated readers of the earlier installment. The story picks up in 1949 as McCourt, aged 19, sails to America to seek his fortune. Befriended by a priest who helps him settle in New York City, he's shocked when the man makes a drunken pass at him. His life in New York becomes one of seedy boarding houses, menial labor on the docks and warehouses, and, always, heavy drinking, often with his brothers Malachy and Michael. Conditionally admired to New York University (he had no high school diploma), he's thrilled to show off his textbooks on the subway but bored with the class work. He'd rather read Scan O'Casey, "the first Irish writer I ever read who writes about rags, dirt, hunger, babies dying. . . ." He falls in love with and eventually marries Alberta "Mike" Small, a beautiful Episcopalian from New England. It's a marriage that will "become a sustained squabble." His early years as a high school teacher, first at a vocational school on Staten Island, later at the prestigious Stuyvesant High School, are humorously and revealingly retold. His first words as a teacher? "Stop throwing sandwiches." McCourt occasionally interrupts his chronological narrative with lengthy, if funny, portraits of characters he's met along the way. Angela, who has moved back to New York to be near her sons, has become a difficult, sickly woman upon whose death McCourt would write: "I thought I'd know the grief of the grown man. . . . I didn't know I'd feel like a child cheated." Those whose hearts went out to the little boy who suffered so in Limerick might be put off by the hard-drinking, carousing grownup. But there's no denying McCourt's engaging wit. Is it as rewarding as Angela's Ashes? 'Tis. (Kirkus Reviews)
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