(Photo by Elke Wetzig courtesy of Wikimedia Commons)
It was with great sadness that I read that Frank Mccourt, author of Angela’s Ashes, died. When his first book came out I decided that I had to read it right away. I’m part Irish and I felt that it would help me understand my mother’s family’s background. I sat down and started to read and didn’t budge for seven hours. I read it straight through, cover to cover. I just couldn’t stop—the language was beautiful, lyrical even though there was great sadness, squalor (in the Salingerian sense of the word) and a weird sense of joy. It was wonderful–so much so that I could not bear to read it again or see the movie. It captured, for me, the essence of the Irish in me and my relatives. I invite you to explore Frank McCourt’s childhood–just click on the title to reserve your copy.