Tis by Frank McCourt

Tis Reviews

• 
  K.D. Absolutely

  My brother was the one who told me to read Frank McCourt’s 1996 Pulitzer-winning memoir Angela’s Ashes. It was one of the books that made me who am I today: a voracious reader.
  
  It took me 12 years before reading its 1999 sequel, ’Tis (short for “It is”). Reason: I wanted to let the cute and innocent boy Frank and his brothers Malachy, Michael and Alphie to stay as long as possible in my mind. I did not want them to grow up. I wanted to hold on to the image of those boys running and walking around the impoverished and dirty street of Limerick searching for coal and food. Angela’s Ashes struck me that much that I wanted the book’s memories to stay so I don’t want to imagine that those boys have grown up into men. In fact, when Frank McCourt (1930-2009) died two years ago (July 19, 2009), I did not want to hear about it. I neither read the article on the paper nor looked him up at the website.
  
  So both succeeding memoirs, ’Tis and Teacher Man (2005) had to wait. When I joined Goodreads in 2009, I added these books. One of my first friends Charles was reading these and he liked ’Tis so much that he also (same as his rating for Angela's)gave it a 5-star rating. I promised him that I would read this too but I still could not let go of Angela’s Ashes memories. My Peter Pan-like behavior still won over my promise. Then Charles had a hiatus in GR and I had another reason to bury these books at the bottom of my tbr heap of books.
  
  Last month, Charles suddenly popped up in GR after two years of absence. Worse, he also said that he would attend our group’s meet up so we will see each other face-to-face. How will I explain to him that I have not yet read ’Tis? So, I looked for this book. No need to romanticize the image of the McCourt boys. Wake up, K.D. and face the reality. People grow up, age and die. These are facts of life. Even if reading provides us the opportunity to create fictional worlds in our minds, facts are facts and Frank McCourt has long been dead.
  
  So, I picked up ’Tis and started reading. Oh I hated the first part. What? The boy Frank is now a young man at 19 years old and left Ireland on MS Irish Oak going to New York? I struggled accepting the truth and could not relate to his grown up experiences: almost becoming a sexual prey by a Catholic priest in a hotel, US Army in Europe as a Corporal, his visit back to Ireland, graduating from NYU despite not finishing high school and his first years as a teacher at McKee Vocational and Technical High School and the prestigious Stuyvesant High School where his secret came out: He is the teacher who never finished high school. The story still retains that old playful and childlike tone that I felt in love with in Angela’s Ashes. McCourt has this uncanny ability of making simple dialogues catchy and witty. His tongue-in-cheek comments about Catholic and sex are just outrageous and can put smile even during gloomy days at home. Gloomy because my daughter had an accident and she is now wearing a shoulder sling, my wife feeling so busy sending and fetching our injured daughter to and from her school, one of the maids is on vacation while the other one is 5-month pregnant with no husband.
  
  However, the second part of the book is awesome. Angela McCourt, the mother pays a visit to her sons in the US: Frank, now a high school teacher, Malachy, a bar owner, Michael, an American soldier and Alphie, living in Manhattan. Then when Angela dies in the US, she is cremated and her ashes are bought back to Ireland and was scattered in some tombs of famous people there. It explains the title of the first book as it reminds me that I had that question before in my mind.
  
  I am glad I finally read this book. Now, I can face Charles and say that I’ve read the book and we can talk about it. And during the discussion, I’ll bear in mind that all these things – the meet ups, the friends we make along the way, my daughter’s injury, my pregnant maid without a husband, etc – all these things will pass. What is important is how we live the present. And as they say, if you should do something, you might as well give it your best. 'Tis your best that you should give life.
  
  'Tis.
  
  
• 
  Kerri

  I seem to be somewhat in the minority here, but I enjoyed 'Tis more than Angela's Ashes. Perhaps because I was already so invested in Frank's life, so intrigued to see where he went next. Or maybe because he had control over his life now he is an adult. While he is still deeply affected by his circumstances, he is now in a position to attempt to change them, so it was a little less depressing to read.
  
  I love his way with language, how he can describe something that is both horrifying and humorous. I don't want to spoil anything, so I'll just say I loved finding out where he goes and how he got there.
  
  Looking forward to reading the final volume soon!📖
• 
  Rebecca

  Sadder in some ways than Angela's Ashes. Whereas Angela's Ashes was a story of Frank McCourt fighting the odds and dangers of growing up in a Limerick slum and trying to escape, this book is about Frank McCourt fighting with himself and occasionally American society. This book reveals his darker side, including his own battles with the drink (though these are never as bad as his father's alcohol problems), his insecurities and the chip on his shoulder about growing up in a slum. Frank had a tough life even in America, and while the book is occasionally humorous, it is sad to see the way drinking contributes to a lot of his problems and the growing gulf between him and his mother. McCourt's sparse writing style, while refreshing, only makes these problems seem worse. In Angela's Ashes, McCourt left Ireland in triumph, as a victim turned hero, while in 'Tis he is half victim, half villain.
• 
  Megan

  After reading Angela's Ashes I was glad to know author Frank McCourt had also written a sequel. I felt after reading Ashes, I needed closure. I wanted to know how Frank fared as a young adult when he arrived in New York as an Irish immigrant in 1949 and if the rest of the McCourt family followed in his footsteps. 'Tis had all the answers I was seeking with such an amazing writing style of "aching sadness and desperate humor." 5 Stars !
• 
  Katerina

  Довольно позорно порыдала в самолёте, испугав простодушных грузинских тётушек.
  Две великие книги про загадочную ирландскую душу.
  A must read.
• 
  Brandi

  First, let me say that I absolutely adored this book. While not as dear to my heart as the first, I think this story is moving and the voice is, as always, unique. That said, this story is a much more familiar one than the last: Irish immigrant trying to make a life for himself in a new world, and a war-enraged America. This story, though, is much more tangible than "other" immigration stories and unique in that, throughout all the troubles, heartache, injustice, and anger, this is a story not burdened with self-pity. That's magic.
  
  This is the continued story of Frank McCourt (see Angela's Ashes) and we pick up upon his arrival in America. His eyes are still troublesome, a testament to the poverty that has followed him across the ocean. The cold-water flat he rents is both freezing and tiny, he finds. He must stick close to other Catholics (initially), and the land of opportunity, it seems, offers little opportunity to the likes of him.
  
  Where the first book seemed startling and heartbreaking in its sudden contrast to American life, this book invokes the same feelings but with an added twinge of guilt for the fact these were our ancestors mistreating and being mistreated. These lives were real--not a distant story, but a tangible one. McCourt's voice too is nothing short of poetry throughout:
  
  "We said a Hail Mary and it wasn't enough. We had drifted from the church but we knew that for her and for us in that ancient abbey there would have been comfort in dignity in the prayers of a priest, proper requiem for a mother of seven.
  
  'We had lunch at a pub along the road to Ballinacura and you'd never know from the way we ate and drank and laughed that we'd scattered our mother who was once a grand dancer at the Wembley Hall and known to one and all for the way she sang a good song, oh, if she could only catch her breath."
• 
  iva°

  ni približno inspirirana kao njena prethodnica, "angelin prah".. ali teško da bi i mogla biti, s obzirom na egzotiku i pitoresknost odrastanja u irskom limericku, u krajnjoj bijedi, na rubu preživljavanja.
  tamo gdje "angelin prah" završava, s frankovim ukrcajem na brod za obećanu zemlju, ameriku, "irac u new yorku" se nastavlja - pratimo ga dok pokušava pronaći svoje mjesto pod kapom nebeskom, radi i studira, zaljubljuje se i, napokon, dobiva posao kao srednjoškolski profesor (što će biti njegovo životno zvanje). iako i dalje vješt na peru i proniciv, ovaj dio njegovog života jednostavno više nema ni emocija ni šarma koje su imale život u sirotinjskoj limeričkoj uličici.
• 
  Fereshteh

  بعید می دونم بشه کتاب
  اجاق سرد آنجلا رو خوند و فرانک بیچاره رو که بعد از تحمل اون همه فلاکت بالاخره به رویای دور و درازش - زندگی در امریکا - رسیده تو دهه ی دوم زندگیش رها کرد. اینجاست که با اشتیاق برای فرونشوندن حس کنجکاویتون دنبال جلد دوم می گردین
  
  به نظر من ادامه ی ماجرا تو جلد دوم نسبت به جلد اول ضعف های بیشتری داره . لحن ساده و یکنواخت نویسنده تو جلد اول به واسطه ی سن پایین راوی آزاردهنده نیست ولی با بزرگ شدن راوی تو جلد دوم ، لحن روایت نویسنده همون طور ساده باقی می مونه که باور بزرگ شدن فرانک ، ورود به دانشگاه ، معلم شدن ، ازدواج و بچه دار شدن و حتی پیر شدنش رو مشکل می کنه. علاوه بر این جاهایی هم به خاطر این نوشتار یکنواخت و ساده ، روند ماجرا خسته کننده میشه
  
  یکی دیگه از ضعف های کتاب به نظرم ناتوانی نویسنده در برجسته کردن اتفاقات مهم و جداکردن جزئیات از اونهاست. نویسنده با لحن یکنواختش با همون میزان توجهی که مثلا نسبت به ورود به دانشگاهش یا ازدواجش حرف می زنه از دوستی های گذرا یا یه گذران وقت ساده تو یه بار حرف می زنه . به نظرم بهتر بود خیلی از مکالمات و اتفاقات جزیی از روایت نویسنده حذف میشد تا هم توجه و تمرکز خواننده بیشتر جذب بشه و هم از خسته کنندگی بعضی قسمت ها کم بشه
  
  حجم بالایی از جلد دوم به ماجراهای نویسنده از زمان رسیدنش به امریکا تا معلم شدن و سپس ازدواجش اختصاص داره . بعد از اون نویسنده خیلی جزیی و پراکنده حوادثی رو ذکر می کنه که با مرگ مادر و بعد پدرش به پایان می رسه .
  
  به جرات می تونم بگم مک کورتی آدم خوشحال ( یا شاکری!) نبوده . تواناییش در ناله کردن برای بدبختی و فقر و فلاکت زندگی بسیار بالا ولی برای شکرگزاری تغییرات عظیم زندگیش بسیار پایینه . بدون مدرک دبیرستان وارد دانشگاه میشه ، با خوشگل ترین دختر دانشگاه دوست میشه ، از نظافت و باربری به معلمی می رسه ولی همچنان دست از ناله بر نمی داره
  
  ختم کلام این که هر چند دنبال کردن سرنوشت نویسنده تو سرزمین رویایی امریکا و دیدن رشد و پیشرفتش و رسیدن به جایگاه بالا از هیچ بسیار جالبه ، می تونه اثر گذار و امید بخش باشه و یه جورایی قدرت خواستن رو به اثبات برسونه ولی می تونست با قلمی متفاوت از این هم جذاب تر بشه .
• 
  Dan

  This is Frank McCourt’s second memoir and it covers McCourt’s time in America from young adulthood to middle age. I felt it was nearly as good as Angela’s Ashes.
  
  When I read Frank McCourt’s writings I observe so much tenderness and wisdom mixed in with his anger. Anger over his poverty, his squinty eyes, and his Irish brogue.
  
  These themes in his writing may come from his age. He’s unafraid of what people might think of his younger self and he has the perspective of the passage of time. He was sixty four when he published Angela’s Ashes and four years later ‘Tis was published. That’s a lifetime to ponder a memoir about your youth.
  
  I can’t help but thinking of another great writer named Norman Maclean who also published his first book well after 60. There is also tremendous wisdom and tenderness in Maclean's writing.
  
  5 stars. While this memoir’s setting isn’t quite as exotic as his first book, his insights about adapting to a new country and NYC moved me greatly.
• 
  Bart Breen

  Do I Detect an Irish Brogue? ;)
  
  I listened to this book as read by the Author. I recommend that, as I read Angela's Ashes and enjoyed it a lot as well, but there is something special about the reading by the author that adds a diminsion to the work that you can't quite catch reading it.
  
  Up front, many are uncomfortable with this work and Angela's Ashes because of the language, which is quite blue in places. I don't find it the most endearing quality myself, but as a memoir it captures the language of the army, the loading dock, the teachers lounge and the bar. Be warned up front, if you are not comfortable hearing swearing, then this is NOT the book for you.
  
  That having been said, listening to McCourt read, I caught the poetic, lyrical, stream of consciousness attributes that I knew were present in Angela's Ashes, but hearing the cadence, the lilting roll and flow of the language; there are parts of this book that come close to poetry. It is an amazing and endearing quality that is rarely achieved in most modern literature.
  
  McCourt has a rare transparency with his insecurity, his dysfunctional relationships, his family dynamics, his romance with his first wife and his transition to teaching and moving toward writing is very revealing and almost has a therapeutic value as you listen and can recognize the human condition in general.
  
  My one criticism, is that, perhaps, this book stretches a little long for the material he includes. The actual narrative events can be condensed to a very short story line. It is the embellishment, the thinking out loud and the dancing around in what becomes a farily discernible pattern by the end of the book to where, it "almost" becomes a little tedious, although this is faint criticism when weighed against the overall impact of the book.
  
  A very entertaining listen and read! It is hard to follow-up on a Pulitzer Prize. The goal is lofty and the expectations overwhelming. My opinion is this book does not surpass its progenitor, but it certainly comes close and provides more of the same type of reading and entertainment.
  
  I look forward to reading, and hopefully hearing the next installment.
• 
  Eddie Owens

  All a bit sad.
  
  What happens when your dreams come true and you're still not happy?
  
  After the shocking story of "Angelas's Ashes", any sequel was likely to suffer and unfortunately this one does too.
  
  This is the often told tale of a young man arriving in the big city and the adventures that befall him.
  
  Frank McCourt arrives in New York aged 19, joins the US army and eventually becomes a teacher. It's everything he wanted or dreamed about as a child in Limerick. But he's still not happy.
  
  Like his father, he has problems with alcohol, and it causes him problems with jobs and relationships.
  
  There is a lot of grown up introspection from Frank, no longer the ignorant kid from the lanes. He sees a lot of racism in America, not just black and white, but anti-Irish, whites against Puerto Ricans, Italians looking down on everyone and so on.
  
  Of course there are still lots of very funny lines and sequences as you'd expect from McCourt. Everyone of Irish descent that he meets, tells him where their mother and father came from in Ireland.
  
  Frank tells stories about lots of amazing characters, and these are so many that he must have amalgamated his own and other stories. Frank is a master storyteller and I suspect teller of tall tales, but that doesn't make them any the less entertaining.
  
  The sadness continues when his father who swears he has given up the drink arrives from Ireland, he is taken off the boat in restraints, blind drunk.
  
  His mother, Angela, is lonely in America, and she irritates Frank, even though he knows how much he owes her.
  
  His brothers are falling prey to drink, and the cycle of alcoholism continues.
  
  I suppose it's the story all families go through: kids grow up, parents become a burden: kids have kids and it begins again.
  
  At the end of Bob Geldof's autobiography, he is standing outside Wembley late at night after the Live Aid concert, when a man says to him "Is that it?"
  
  And as Frank McCourt would say "'Tis."
  
  I will read the final volume of memoirs "Teaching Man" but I expect it to be more of the same. Entertaining but nothing more than that.
  
  
• 
  Susana

  Depois de ter dado 5 estrelas a As Cinzas de Ângela (o meu rating traduz sempre o prazer que me dá a leitura de um livro, independentemente das polémicas que possa haver sobre ele), este segundo volume das memórias de Frank McCourt ficou bastante aquém das expectativas.
  
  No início parecia ser um bom seguimento do livro anterior, mas depois comecei a aborrecer-me com as constantes referências aos olhos vermelhos e a outras circunstâncias que o autor vai repetindo, sempre com a mesma formulação, num registo de autocomiseração que não esperava. De tal forma me aborreci que interrompi a leitura durante alguns dias para desanuviar um pouco.
  
  A qualidade da escrita parece ir decrescendo ao longo do livro e as últimas páginas nem pareciam ter sido escritas pela mesma pessoa.
  
  Tenho o terceiro volume desta autobiografia, O Professor, e tenciono lê-la, mas talvez lá mais para o ano que vem...
• 
  Kimberly Smith

  I enjoyed this sequel to "Angela's Ashes", because of Frank McCourt's ability to recollect dialogue, and his way of writing the words so well that you can just HEAR the Irish accent while you read.
  
  It is so amazing and inspiring to see where Frank comes from, the slums of Ireland, with his essentially single mother to college, eventually graduate school, & later a teacher in New York City. It's a long road out of the slums & out of his own head of fears, limitations, & low self esteem to the place where he is able to make something of himself..
  
  One thing about Frank as an author is that he tells the truth, even if it's ugly and shows his own flaws. I struggled with him drinking too much & repeatedly visiting the Irish pubs, especially after growing up WITHOUT his alcoholic father who couldn't prioritize his wife & children ahead of his addiction for drink & abandoned them all to poverty & a life of misery. It was hard to read about Frank stopping for a beer after school, & then one beer turns into a nine hour binge, and then oh well what's one more when the wife is already going to be pissed, so what's the use... I couldn't help but think Frank was possibly self sabotaging his life & relationships. While I appreciate honesty, I'll offer my own: I am disappointed with Frank for this drinking, & if it weren't for that, I would have easily given the book 4 stars.
  
  What I love about Mr McCourt is that he never fails to make me laugh out loud, even in the midst of the grimmest material. He is funny! I laughed a lot.
  
  I also have a great respect for the language, cultural, and financial struggles that immigrants have when they first come to this country.
• 
  Iulia D.

  Aceeasi voce si acelasi umor (tragic) ca în "Cenusa Angelei", dar poate tocmai din cauza asta si-a pierdut din farmec. Am citit-o în salturi, cu pauze mari, dar fãrã sã am gândul de abandon. Dimpotrivã, l-am cãutat pe domnul McCourt pe youtube si am descoperit un om modest, blajin, carismatic.
• 
  Catherine

  Frank McCourt could write about paint drying and I would 100% read it. He’s just brilliant.
• 
  Elisa

  Ci sono giornate eccezionali in cui la discussione di una poesia apre la porta a una luce bianca abbagliante e tutti capiscono i versi e capiscono di aver capito e quando la luce si smorza ci sorridiamo come viaggiatori al ritorno da un'avventura.
  
  Con Frank McCourt accade esattamente lo stesso. Seguirlo per le strade di New York è come sbirciare in una stanza rimasta chiusa per decenni, lasciandovi entrare un fascio di luce.
  Il suo passo incerto e goffo si fa più solido con il rincorrersi dei decenni, così come la sua parlata. Eppure Frank è sempre Frankie. C'è sempre la sua arguzia: scorre come una linfa nascosta agli occhi dell'interlocutore ma sulla pagina sfocia in riflessioni esilaranti. C'è sempre il suo racconto continuo che grazie all'essenzialità della punteggiatura dà l'impressione di scorrere, amalgamarsi, vivere. Forse questa è una delle caratteristiche che più amo della sua prosa: il saper raccontare gli altri come se raccontasse se stesso. L'uso del discorso indiretto, la totale assenza di virgolette con cui imprigionare i personaggi nei loro dialoghi, il fraseggio libero ma conciso: tutto si traduce in un gomitolo di vite che confluiscono nella stessa materia, la memoria e il cuore di Frankie. Sebbene l'autore si sia cimentato nell'autobiografia, il risultato è un'opera corale di straordinaria vivacità.
  
  Sarebbe inutile ripercorrere la trama, non posso levarvi la delizia della lettura. Ciò che importa è sottolineare quanto questo libro possa essere fondamentale per un adolescente moderno. Io ho scoperto Frankie come si scopre un caro amico. Sarà perché aveva più o meno la mia età quando è arrivato a New York o che si è ritrovato a muovere i primi passi con la goffaggine che ritrovo in me nelle grandi occasioni della vita. Il momento in cui trovi il primo lavoro, la paura di fare una brutta impressione, l'ansia di non sentirti accettato per ciò che sei dalle persone delle quali desideri la stima. Anche il lettore grazie a Frank diventa un membro del coro. Ci sembra quasi di avvertire bruciore agli occhi e di sentire la morbidezza dei riccioli neri sulla testa.
  
  Le ricchezze che si possono ricavare dalla lettura sono davvero infinite: dalle riflessioni sull'insensatezza del razzismo e su quanto possa essere pesante un'identità che si indossa con scomodità; dalle perplessità sull'amore a quelle sul sesso; dalle stoccate inflitte agli scioperi degli anni '60 alle sfuriate contro i continui lamenti delle classi agiate, incapaci di apprezzare la propria fortuna. Neri, bianchi, portoricani, irlandesi, italiani, giovani, donne di mezza età, padri e madri allo sbando e giunti al termine del loro percorso, ragazze innamorate della schematicità di una vita monotona, classi medio-alte imprigionate nei rituali della buona società: questi i personaggi che vorticano attorno a Frankie, che lo erodono come un vento a volte gentile, altre tumultuoso.
  
  "Non avete voglia di scrivere della vostra vita per la generazione ventura?" Frankie, meno male che questa voglia ti è venuta.
  E quando la luce si smorza ci sorridiamo come viaggiatori al ritorno da un'avventura.
• 
  Victor Carson

  I did not like this book as well as McCourt's earlier memoir, Angela's Ashes, which related the family's struggles in Ireland in the 1940's and 1950's. 'Tis relates Frank McCourt's life in New York from the 1950's until his Mother's death in New York and his father's death and burial in Belfast in 1985. Frank McCourt himself read the audio-book edition of 'Tis. This book, however, needed editing to move the story along more smoothly. Certain parts are moving, thoughtful, or funny but some are repetitive, self-indulgent, or boring. I grew weary of reading all that Frank was thinking but never saying to people or reading again and again about his drinking - which he knows is destroying his marriage. I admire Frank's rise from abject poverty in Ireland to his college degree from NYU, his teaching career at Stuyvesant High School in Brooklyn, his home in Brooklyn, and his publishing of several well-regarded books, but this book could have been better.
• 
  Melinda

  I guess we all know that Frank McCourt's life turned out pretty well, being a published prizewinning author and all that. But if we didn't know how his story ends, we would be left with the fact that he was a pretty sorry soul who was forever not saying what he wanted to say and forever following in his father's drunken footsteps. He haplessly falls into situation after situation that are entirely joyless, and looses women and opportunities to the bottle. Angela's Ashes was lovely storytelling artfully accomplished through the eyes of a boy. But 'Tis had nothing that special going for it. 'Tis was made blurry though the "bad eyes" of an alcoholic. 'Twas a disappointment for this McCourt fan.
• 
  Michael

  This book would get five stars, except that it isn't -quite- as great as
  Angela's Ashes, which makes it seem a bit disappointing. In comparison to that book, it is also somewhat less inspiring, in the sense that AA tells a story of perseverance over hardship as Frank survives all by carrying his dream of going to America through times of crushing poverty. In _'Tis_ he finally makes it to America, and things still are not perfect. In fact he still spends a lot of time feeling afraid and too insecure to live the life he really desires. Although that makes this less of a feel-good experience, it also makes it a more subtle comment on Life, and required a degree of self-honesty from McCourt that most authors never attain. His prose remains liltingly poetic, and it is a joy to read, even when the subject matter is depressing or disappointing.
  
  Mccourt was my English teacher for the 1986-87 school year in High school, which is why I still think of him as "Mr. McCourt," rather than "Frank," in spite of his informal writing style. He did not include me as a character in this book (although he mentioned some of my classmates), which disappointed me at the time, but actually may be a good thing in retrospect. Having one's awkward adolescence immortalized in such incisive prose might be a bit overwhelming. I'm just glad that Mr. McCourt did it for the rest of us.
• 
  Devoradora De Libros

  Esta lectura dista mucho de lo que suelo leer habitualmente, pero de vez en cuando hay cositas que me llaman la atención y con las que he acertado siempre.
  Ésta es la continuación de Las cenizas de Ángela en la que el protagonista nos cuenta desde su visión de niño como es la vida en un callejón de un pueblo de Irlanda. Ahora nos cuenta sus vivencias desde que llega a Nueva York con 19 años. Nos cuenta situaciones que nos parecerían a priori rídiculas u obvias pero que son tan reales como la vida misma. Nadie nos enseña si vivimos en un pueblo pobre como afrontar la gran ciudad o como debemos actuar al bañarnos cuando compartimos un retrete con todas las personas que viven en un callejón.
  Si tuviera que definirla con una frase sería: el que la sigue la consigue 😊
  Es una lectura muy emotiva, tierna, inocente en muchos áspectos pero también dura y cargada de sufrimiento por no saber como encajar.
  Totalmente recomendado, aunque yo...prefiero volverme a mis crímenes sangrientos 🤣🤣🤣🤣
• 
  Federica

  The narration of Frank McCourt's life continues in this volume, in which he faces the adversities of life in America.
  
  It is quite easy to understand till the beginning that this version of Frank McCourt is an older, more mature one, that, during the narration, becomes more and more aware of the hypocrisies and incoherences of the society, in a country where theoretically everyone should have the opportunity to make his own fortune but where practically it's harder than ever to make it happen.
  
  Frank is fully conscious of his "inferiority" and often rant about it and about his jealousy towards the university students. I really liked this part of the book, because I could totally feel what F. McCourt was saying: it was a mighty, spontaneous desire to gain all the possible knowledge. And I appreciated the importance he gave to teaching, too, however, in particular in the last part of the book, I started to disagree more and more with his tendency passivity, his inability to impose his opinions and himself over others, a behavior that made me remember of his father.
  
  The last part of the book, then, was utterly sad. While in Angela's Ashes there was hope, in this one there was just sadness, that type that comes from disillusionment and old age, partially.
  
  Anyhow, his writing style is still the same, even more acute I may say in stressing the inconsistencies of life.
• 
  Amie's Book Reviews

  I enjoyed this second memoir / story collection by Frank McCourt.
  
  I listened to this on audiobook and having it told with the appropriate accent brings the stories to life.
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  Angela Serban

  
  https://booknation.ro/recenzie-o-tara...
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  Dennis

  This is and isn’t a sequel to “Angela’s Ashes” because it’s not really the story of Angela and her struggles to feed her family in New York and Ireland but the continuing story of the author and oldest son, Frank. Having concluded that there’s nothing much for him in Limerick after being rejected for secondary school except a subsistence job for the Post Office, he takes the decision at 19 to move back to New York. So rather than continuing the moving story of his mother, he writes about his adventures and misadventures as he tries to establish himself in the city of his birth. The question is then, does this shift in tone work? Well, no, because it’s a completely different story, and the author is less sympathetic.
  
  There is obviously a lot of humor here in his struggles and having moved around quite a lot myself, I can appreciate the struggle, and in particular since I also took my accent with me everywhere I went. I’m originally from New York so even in California, I ran into problems at times; I won’t even mention the problems of changing countries and languages, let alone dealing with anti-New York or anti-American attitudes. (I should be clear here: The President doesn’t have me on speed-dial to consult with me on foreign policy decisions so complain elsewhere.) In Frank’s case, everyone has an Irish relative and everyone feels the need to comment on his accent to the point that he just prefers to keep his mouth shut. (It happens, believe me.) One of his early jobs is at a hotel, cleaning up in the lobby after rich and privileged university students. He eventually becomes a high school English teacher where he has the thankless job of trying to convince the students that the required reading has meaning and value in their lives. (Lower middle-class students and “The Great Gatsby” were not a good match; I was one of the former and passed on the latter and its brethren, probably because I was force-fed and needed to come around on my own. I don’t think I’m alone in this. Then they handed out “Vanity Fair” …)
  
  Now, we get to some of my hang-ups with the book. Frank spends a lot of time complaining about how he has no money to eat but he always finds funding for late afternoon “liquid refreshment” which stretches into the wee hours; I don’t think that people always bought him all his drinks so it’s clear that he had his priorities and food wasn’t one. In this, he resembles his barfly father except that Frank always sent money back to Ireland for his mother and brothers, unlike his father when his dad went off to Coventry in England and left the family impoverished. A similar situation happens when he’s love-struck by a woman in university and manages to win her against all odds, marries her and they had a daughter. The problem here is that she’s from a different social class, fairly posh, while he’s strictly proletarian. They have friends, there are dinners and parties to attend, and Frank knows he has to arrive but he always meets a friend who invites him for a drink or twelve, time flies but Frank is firmly landed on a barstool while his wife fumes because she’s been stood up once again. Save your tears, Frank, they’re wasted on me. Two of his brothers have also arrived and are habitués of an uptown bar and wonder why he even bothers with her when he can be with them. (Although not mentioned in the book, his second marriage wasn’t much better; it was his third wife who brought out his creative side and encouraged him to write.)
  
  Angela makes a late appearance as her health declines (with a lot of help from Angela) and she brings a lot of badly-needed comic relief at the end, as does his brother, Malachy. (I should mention that Malachy was a famous raconteur when I lived in New York and another brother, Michael, was the “King of Bartenders” when I lived in San Francisco; Frank had the weight of the world – and his family – on his shoulders, it seems.) However, she couldn’t lift this book from the drudgery that preceded it, not for me. It just never really took off but it had a hard act to follow so maybe that’s understandable.
  
• 
  Bookguide

  Frank McCourt's first book,
  Angela's Ashes, was incredible in its descriptions of an unbelievable poverty experienced within living memory in a Western European country. The impact of the continuation of McCourt's life story could hardly fail to pale in comparison. I felt that his descriptions of his miserable life at a succession of pitiful jobs and in the army dragged on too long. I was irritated by the continual harping on about how fortunate the Americans were, with their electricity, hot and cold running water and cooked food, about how beautiful they all were. It didn't matter what happened to McCourt, good or bad, he was always moaning about how unlucky he was to be Irish, have bad eyes and teeth. None of these things seemed to hold back his brothers, it was just Frank and his dismal view on life and his inability to stay away from the drink. Even when the beautiful Mike / Alberta falls for him, he continues to jeapordise his happiness by his miserable attitude and apparent need to argue and his stubbornness. When his mother arrives on the scene, it is clear where he got his aptitude for seeing the darker side of life; they were a pair made in heaven, well-matched in their ability to be ungracious and ungrateful. Perhaps the reason this grated with me so much was because I have recently read
  The Adventures of Augie March describing life in a poor Jewish family in Chicago, with an overlapping timeframe, and they were living in similar poverty and squalor; this was by no means the exclusive fate of Irish immigrants and McCourt suggests is was.
  
  It wasn't until the second half of the book that it really came to life for me. McCourt's descriptions of his teaching at the vocational college on Staten Island and later at community college and an upper-class high school in Brooklyn were fascinating, sometimes hilarious and probably ring true for all teachers of teenagers. The way Frank won students over to his side, or at least got them discussing books, even if they weren't the books on the syllabus, was wonderful. His reverse psychology which resulted in an entire class enthusiastically acting out five of Shakespeare's plays was amusing and inspiring. The fact that he could become a teacher at all, having never gone to high school in Ireland himself, is both proof of 'the American dream' and a sad indictment on the American education system of the time, especially considering McCourt's extreme poverty when starting out as a teacher, unable to pay his way in life and certainly unable to save.
  
  On the whole, I enjoyed this book, although I never warmed to the author himself. Perhaps if I heard these stories told by the man himself as a self-deprecating comic over a pint of beer, I would appreciate it more. It was also a shame that he didn't paint longer portraits of some of his friends, many of whom seem to have been real characters, such as Horace at the docks and his neighbour Virgil Frank. In fact, the whole book seems to be rather self-centred, and this is what lowers my rating. Entertaining, but not memorable enough.
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  Book Concierge

  Frank McCourt burst on the literary scene with his memoir Angela’s Ashes, which outlined his childhood lived in abject poverty in Limerick Ireland. This book picks up where that one left off. He begins by recounting some of the overseas voyage, befriended by a priest who encourages him to talk to the “wealthy Protestants from Kentucky,” and who is dismayed when McCourt’s embarrassment over his teeth, his eyes, his clothing, keeps him from asserting himself. But although nothing is as he expected and he feels more ignorant each day, the 19-year-old Frank pursues his dreams of the American life. It’s slow going and the reader begins to wonder if he’ll ever get out of the slums and get his eyes and teeth fixed (though we obviously know he will, because he wrote these books, after all).
  
  Despite the obvious roadblocks in his path, Frank’s ingrained desire to better himself is further inspired by watching the office workers on the bus, overhearing them talk about their children or grandchildren going to college. A stint in the Army makes him eligible for the GI bill, and he begins to take courses at NYU. And the love of a classic American blonde beauty makes his dream of a clean job, a clean wife, a clean house and clean children seem finally within his grasp.
  
  McCourt has a way with language. His direct, present-tense style has immediacy to it that just keeps me reading. He doesn’t shy away from that which is painful, embarrassing, or downright depressing. I was anxious to see him succeed, but I was frustrated with his apparent inability to get on with it. In relating the story of the young Frank McCourt he comes across as painfully lacking in self-esteem – a born “loser.” His first book ended on such a high note of hope and opportunity; I was expecting more of the same, and this one didn’t quite deliver.
  
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  Floripiquita

  Tras ese maravilloso libro que es Las cenizas de Angela, va el autor y perpetra este pestiño aburrido hasta decir basta. Lo antirecomiendo.
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  M.M. Strawberry Library & Reviews

  Not as strong or comedic as
  Angela's Ashes.
  
  Sigh. 'Tis.