Desperate, hungry boys, illness and the loss of children, alcoholism and denial, scratching and clawing for food and social status...
This autobiography of Frank McCourt is a New York Times bestseller and Pulitzer Prize winner. Sadness and humor mix to create a poignant account of a poor family in 1930's Ireland. With an alcoholic father and a helpless, sickly mother, the family faces unimaginable poverty and hopelessness. The oldest son, Frank, manages to grow up by making the most of his opportunities, whether it is by stealing food or working odd jobs instead of going to school. He reaches his ultimate dream after he earns and steals enough money to go back to America.
It was upsetting to read about how the kids and mother starved and had to resort to begging because the father drank away any earnings that he had. Then he would be late for work because of his wild, drinking night, resulting in him getting fired. This book told of a circle that was their life: illness, alcohol, hunger, poverty, filth, discrimination, and disappointment. But, it also told of a rising up, a longing and a determination for a better life.
I'm not sure how much I really enjoyed reading this book, if I enjoyed it all-but I've been thinking about that family and their circumstances since I bought the book last Sunday. If you've read it, what did you think?