Book Review: Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt

A late comer to reading Angela’s Ashes, it was fascinating. As a memoire, it read like a novel. It would be easy to call it a rags to riches story, or a coming of age story and let it be. However, Frank McCourt shows us the rags, lets us wear them, feel the weather and smell the poverty the family endured. It was the 1930’s when Malachy McCourt and Angela Sheehan met in New York City. After a ‘knee-trembler’ putting Angela in an ‘interesting position’, they were married and had four children, Frank being the oldest. Malachy proved to be an unreliable husband and spent any earnings at pubs and speakeasies. The children, Francis, Malachy, Michael and the baby, Margaret were starving and were often sent out of the house to the park to play. Baby Margaret died suddenly, at only seven weeks old, crushing Angela’s will to function. Malachy had stopped drinking until his little daughter died but that resumed unabated. Neighbours intervened to support Angela, clean the two year old twins bottoms, and fed the children from their own supplies. The same neighbours called her cousins in to help sort out the household. After much turmoil, a letter was written to Angela’s grandmother in Ireland, who sent money for their passage back to Ireland. If they hoped that life would be better there, it only changed for the worse in Limerick. Malachy, a staunch Irishman, lived in a dream world of past glories, and had, in his drunken state, his boys learn the songs of the past. He would get them out of bed and have them sing and promise to ‘die for Ireland’. Angela could only try to stop him without success.

Ireland was divided between the Catholics and the Protestants. In Limerick, the Catholic Church held sway. Families and children were under constant threat of eternal damnation and punishment. If children asked questions they were either dismissed out of hand or told they should know. This to me was more disturbing than the poverty, but possibly the result of poverty. Francis McCourt’s story was also laced with the laughter of boys growing up and learning about their bodies and the bodies of the opposite sex.

There were some adults in young Frank’s life that fostered his interest in words and story. Although his father was often drunk, he fascinated his son with his stories. He had a teacher who encouraged his students to learn, and recognized Frank’s ability to write. His Uncle Pa, encouraged him to think for himself; to not tie himself down to work that did not suit him. He learned to write and read, getting a side job writing threatening letters for an unpleasant woman; this ability also got him a job at a magazine that helped establish him as working man. 

Francis McCourt was also a very misguided thief. What started as just stealing food for his brothers, continued throughout his young life. His final goal was to get to America so he started saving money from his jobs and from a bit of thievery here and there. He always determined to pay it all back, but somehow that didn’t happen. He did leave for America which is where the book leaves us. The author’s follow up book ’Tis takes up his story from there.

“Tis’ your life, make your own decisions 

and to hell with the begrudgers, Frankie.”

~ Frank McCourt, Angela’s Ashes

Title: Angela’s Ashes

Author: Frank McCourt

Copyright: 1996

Publisher: Simon & Schuster, Inc.

Type: Memoire

ISBN -13 - 978-0-684-87435-7 

ISBN - 10: 9780-684-87435-7

Movie Review: Little Women 2019 directed by Greta Gerwig

Greta Gerwig, director of this wonderful classic by Louisa May Alcott, seemed intimately familiar with this beautiful story. Faithful to Little Women for many years, I first read this story in my teens. Since then I’ve read it several times and enjoyed the story and characters each time. 

I’ll confess: Jo March, the impassioned writer with ink stained hands in the little garret, was always my favourite character. A tomboy who confronted life with energy and not a little frustration when life for a woman of that period just did not suit. Greta Gerwig, writing and directing this film, seemed to have plucked out all the most important parts of the story, weaving them with skill into the heart of Louisa May Alcott's novel. Jo (Saorise Ronan) writing and trying to have her ‘scribbles’ published in a man’s world. Meg March (Emma Watson) marrying her love Mr. Brooks on a summer’s day. Amy March (Florence Pugh) trying her hand at being a great artist when she went to Paris as companion to Aunt March (Meryl Streep). Amy, the gentle youngest sister, playing piano and just being good. Most of all it was the family bonds between sisters ~ not without rivalry ~  held together by Marmee (Laura Dern) while her husband (Bob Odenkirk) was away fighting in the Civil War.

Greta Gerwig has created a lively script for this classic story by Louisa May Alcott. In a non-linear fashion, this fresh look into the Marsh family home and life, was charming and fun. Not to mention, scenes when tears were called for! When the girls quarrelled, when Amy burned Jo’s work, when Jo saved Amy from drowning, poverty and wealth……I’ll not tell all. I am assuming there are some who don’t know this beautiful story, but can’t imagine why. The issues that women faced ~ marry for money if you at all can, but women must marry ~ was discussed between sisters with Aunt March (Meryl Streep) giving stern direction. The casting was excellent for all the characters. An additional challenge for the actors that played the four sisters, Jo, Meg, Amy and Beth, was defining their roles from adolescence through to adulthood. They were each successful. 

The movie Little Women for Christmas of 2019, is a must see movie. It is true to Louisa May Alcott’s story, opening with Jo March walking briskly into Mr. Dashwood’s office with a manuscript. From there, each of the girls gives us their memories that are the story Little Women.

“Girls have to go out into the world and 

make up their own minds about things.”

~ Marmee, Little Women

Directed by Greta Gerwig

Written By:  Greta Gerwig

Based on the novel by:  Louisa May Alcott

Cast:

Saoirse Ronan: Jo March

Emma Watson: Meg March

Florence Pugh: Amy March

Eliza Scanlon: Beth March

Laura Dern: ‘Marmee’ Mary March

Bob Odenkirk: Mr. March

Meryl Streep:  Aunt March

Timothée Chalamet: Laurie (Teddy)

Chris Cooper: Mr. Laurence (Laurie’s grandfather)

James Norton: John Brooke

Louis Garrel: Friedrich Bhaer

Tracy Letts:  Mr. Dashwood

Brown Stockings and Kindness

Not really a St. Nicholas or a Santa Claus!

St. Nicholas, another tradition….or should I say St. Nicholas feast day. A tradition born of a story that cannot be absolutely verified as it whispers to us from the distant past. (And I located it at <whychristmas.com>)  They say that any good story begins with a lie, however I’m not fond of that phrase. Possibly meant ironically, a lie is told with the intent to deceive, and not always kindly. If deception is used to create suspense, ask a question that will be answered later on in the story, that I can accept. 

I like the St. Nicholas story that I read this morning, whether it started with a lie or not. It finally explained to me why it was so important to hang those brown cotton stockings by our chimney each Christmas when I was a kid ~ also in a distant past! Curiously, there had never seemed any spiritual basis or connection in any way with the Sunday school Christmas stories. There were no stockings hung in the manger, were there? But this story does in fact have a basis in a spiritual practice. One that is simple and, unfortunately often, gets lost in our busy day to day lives. Kindness is that spiritual practice. I am fairly certain that some hear the word ‘spiritual’ and recoil from it as though burned so I must be judicious with it’s use. Kindness is a good practice in any human relations. 

This story I read on a website this morning about the tradition of St. Nicholas. I’ve abbreviated much of it, but it offers the nugget of a story about impoverishment and kindness. 

“There once was a man who had three daughters…..One night Nicholas secretly dropped a bag of gold down the chimney and into the house…..The bag fell into a stocking that had been drying by the fire….”

The tradition of stockings by the fire spread from there. A charitable, kind act for that one impoverished family has endured, albeit with a bit too much glitz and not enough magic, for centuries. Coincidentally, this short essay was already designated before I was aware that December 6 ~ today ~ is St. Nicholas feast day. Nicholas, because of his kindness to children, and oddly to sailors, was sainted as the patron saint of children and sailors. 

“You can always give something, even if it is only kindness.”

~ Anne Frank

This short essay had certain self imposed requirements:

1. Christmas themed

2. First line to start with 'St. Nicholas, another tradition: this line I set for myself regarding the blog post.

3. Another line to be included: 'Every good story starts with a lie...' This line is the group assigned line for this month's writer's group held the first Friday of every month.

Abundant Rations

Rations to me mean 

deprivation, poverty, wartime

stringent parsing of food and commodities

to spread a little to the many,

barely nourishing those that cry in need.

In our society of 

abundance and convenience

rations seem to belong 

somewhere else

to someone else.

The need to ration meets

low supply and great demand,

but why wait for need to arise

to begin judicious use and care

of our world’s precious resources, 

our foods, our commodities.

“…shiny trinkets and frivolous spending 

make people forget what world they’re living in.”

~ Beth Lewis, The Wolf Road

Where There is Abundance

I didn’t want to wear black today on this day of celebration. My tunic did have red flowers on it though. Oh, and I had red earrings. So black jeans and my tunic it was - with the red earrings. 

On the streets all day were people celebrating Canada Day, many wearing red t-shirts bearing a white maple leaf. After work, a friend and I sat on the porch of a busy local coffee house. Families with children and dogs. Cars and motorcycles filled the street. Some of the cars were classic cars all repaired, shiny and polished. The sun shone, the breeze stilled and summer had brought it’s abundance to the Cook Street Village.

Abundance. When my friend and I were visiting, we talked about the abundance of the country and time that we live and work in. We do not have to experience war and it’s effects. Most of us do not have to experience hard poverty. I have recently chosen to rely on my two feet and the transit system. Many only have their feet.

I didn’t want to wear black today but I did choose between the several pair of jeans that hung in my closet and the tops that were folded neatly in my dresser. 

“In the modern world we are surrounded by 

so much abundance that we cannot see it.”

~ Chris Matakas, The Tao of Jiu Jitsu

Failure to Recognize

Not a good way to begin the month of June.
Anger and huge frustration about addictions health care
And I do use those three words with great caution
The health care of patients and clients on the frontlines
The health of health care workers on the frontlines

I have devoted the last several decades to this work
I also became aware of the neurobiology of addiction
Always expecting that the bizarre behaviours of our clients
will be seen as a symptom,
that the approaches taken 
in nursing, in social work and in medicine 
and in health care systems will be developed;
that brain trauma of any kind changes an individual’s behaviour,
and such behaviour can be unpredictable and extremely dangerous  to any of us on the front lines charged with the individual's care.

Am I angry about the uncontrolled behaviour of a client with severe brain trauma?
Organic, substance affected, mental illness, in withdrawal or all of the above?
And did I mention anything else ~ oh say like poor nutrition, poverty, ……
Or angry about the systems that appear to continue utilizing ineffective models of care?
And did I mention under-funding and under-educating systems that are in place?

I think that’s enough venting for now.
I won’t stop working for and caring for these clients, these patients ~ my fellow human beings.

“Compassion is all inclusive. Compassion knows no boundaries. Compassion comes with awareness, and awareness breaks all narrow territories.”

~ Amit Ray, Nonviolence: The Transforming Power

Just Before 'X'

Voting: 

a privilege, 

a right, 

a responsibility…

and yet

political trust and political will
is a balance that shifts and sways
opinions left, right and center
asking to be believed, to be trusted….
debating the merits of their beliefs
while detailing their opponents’ poverty of realism

who is the best citizen incumbent for the job?
how is one to know?
and when?

Just before ‘x’ marks the box?

“Do the unexpected. Take 20 minutes out of your day, 

do what young people all over the world are dying to do: vote.”

~ Rick Mercer

Circumstance Unknown

She sat on the seat of her walker, long white hair fluffing out under a pink crocheted cap with a curled edge. She had a nice sunny spot on the busy sidewalk.

Her soft skin, only barely wrinkled, spread into a smile as I approached. Twinkling blue eyes greeted me. She nodded and said ‘Good morning.’

I had seen her before on that sidewalk, always clean, dressed neatly in faded jeans, a top to suit the weather and an old cap in hand for ‘donations’. Coins found their way into my hand and dropped into the cap.

‘Thank you, ma’am. Have a nice day.’

I know not what her circumstance is, nor is it my business. Poverty? Family estrangement? Both? None?

She does not ask for pity, and I offer her none. Aging is no respecter of economic circumstance. 

“Pity is a benign form of abuse.”

~ Michael J. Fox