Frank McCourt is a master of storytelling. The comparison to Joyce is obvious because
it is a story of growing up poor, Irish, and Catholic, being bullied by priestly teachers quick with the ashplant. His is an altogether
different recollection, at once more destitute, yet less colored by melancholy and the tendency to propagandize or over analyze.
This is the story of an Irish American growing up in a rural Irish village environment dreaming of returning home. First though he
must weather the torture of poverty, a killer river, and the most God forsaken priest ridden land far, far away from the sinful shores
of Amerikay'. One thing Frank has on his side that Stephen Dadaelus lacks is a way with the ladies. It must be in his Father's jeans
or not as the 'trembler' may be. And his Mother, well she had her head in the New Year and her ass in the Old; talk about a
boundary crossing.
The big boundary crossing here though is the Atlantic, which separates the Irish emigrant from his homeland, and the Irish American
from his native soil. One of the recurring themes in Angela's Ashes is the kindness of strangers. It seems the greater generosity is
given to them in New York, and not from their kin. Whereas the poverty is greater in Ireland, the kindness, what little there is, still
comes not from their kin. In fact any assistance is begrudging when it comes from family. Another fundamental difference is the
absence of any religious influence in America as shown in the lack of a baptism of their sister Margaret, as well as the ambiguity
of her final resting place.
This is perhaps the defining difference between the two cultures. In Ireland the schools are run by or with the help of the Church
through the Christian Brothers and the Jesuits. Their control over the development of the youth of Ireland is total and unequivocal.
Their brand of education is centered on the Augustinian principle per molestias erudito; true education begins with physical
abuse. "The Christian Brothers get their exercise beating boys and starving the life out of them," says Angela on hearing the
Master wants Frank to continue his education in their school. They, like their fellow teachers, the Jesuits, don't like poor people,
and slam the door in his face. 'I'll beat the idler out of you," says the Master. "They hit you and you must not cry ... you can't tell
your parents because they'll say you deserve it, don't be a baby." Their influence on the children is vile and corrupting. The innate
joy of life in childhood is channeled into selfloathing and body-hate in adolescence, at a time when the body is already waging
chemical warfare with itself. This disconnects them from what would be normal bodily release mechanisms and channels the
energy into repressive and dysfunctional behavior instead, locking them into the sin/guilt/fear trap.
Frank though has people who help him along his path towards self-discovery. His father and Pa Keating are looked to for their
independence, as Frank frequently comments, "he doesn't give a fiddler's fart what the world thinks, and that's the way I'd like to
be myself." He is helped along by Mr. Timoney who has him read to him starting Swift's A Modest Proposal. Mr. Timoney
is reflective of the old Gaelic Order in that his head is full of books, not unlike the hobos in Fahrenheit 451. One of his
Masters Mr. Halloran tells him to "stock your mind, make it up for yourself' and go to America where he won't have to suffer
through the humiliation of a society mired in the inequality of class distinction. His Uncle Pa Keating tells him, " to make up his
own bloody mind and to hell with the safeshots and the bregrudgers." He takes the advice and foregoes the postal test associated
with the Church, and applies for a position working for the distributor of the Irish Times. This is reminiscent of Joyce's
The Dead, where Gabriel is working for an English rag. It is a constant reminder of Ireland's economic dependence on
England that all of his school friends and even his Father goes to England to work during the war.
In the midst of all this misery and melancholy, Frank can still seem to laugh about things. Even his Mother and Father have to laugh
when Malachy points out the horse defecating on the way to the graveyard. The scene where Frank is wearing his dead (thankfully)
Grandmother's black dress because he is washing his own for his big job, has got to be one of the most hilarious events in the book.
The ability to maintain an emotional health is highly impressive. His interactions with Patricia Madigan and Theresa Carmody are
heart wrenching in their sweetness. His gift of the raisin to Paddy Clohessy and his honorable escort of another fella's girl are truer
to the Christian ideal than all the slammed doors on the Church.
Frank McCourt teaches us all that no matter how bad our own circumstances are, there is always someone just around the corner
much worse off. He characterizes that quality Gabriel so admired in his countrymen, hospitality. One finds in his act of throwing
Mrs. Fincuane's ledger in the Shannon a great act of karmic repentance to ease his conscience for having written all those threatening
letters. He gives a gift back to his foster community that they will never even know about. You find yourself cheering him on as
The Irish Oak sails away from the shores of eHirann knowing he is going home where he belongs.
And what a first night back in Poughkeepsie, where we see the mirthless face of a priest proclaiming his anti-life mantra, "bad
women, bad women." Frank though is beyond their cloying grasp. He welcomes Freida's adulterous embrace and isn't the act itself
an indication of the difference between these cultures. She is much closer to the real Irish whom the priests have succeeded in
spiritualy browbeating into self-denial and self-abuse. Made me proud like few books have to be a clever yank; "a great country
indeed."
'Tis