Frank McCourt (1930–2009)
Author of Angela's Ashes
About the Author
Frank McCourt was born in Brooklyn, New York on August 13, 1930 to Irish immigrant parents. When he was four, his family moved back to Ireland. His father abandoned the family to a life of poverty. He attended school until the age of 14, at which point he was forced to drop out to help support the show more family. In 1949, he returned to the United States, where he worked odd jobs until being drafted into the U. S. Army during the Korean War. Using the GI Bill, he received a degree in English and education from New York University. He worked at several high schools throughout New York City including McKee Vocational and Technical High School, Seward Park High School, and Stuyvesant High School. During this time, he would occasionally write articles for newspapers and magazines. He retired from teaching in 1994. His first memoir, Angela's Ashes, was published in 1996. It won the National Book Critics Circle award in 1996 and the Pulitzer Prize in 1997. His other memoirs included 'Tis and Teacherman. He died on July 19, 2009 at the age of 78. (Bowker Author Biography) show less
Image credit: Frank McCourt, circa May 2005
Series
Works by Frank McCourt
Write for Life, Revised and Updated Edition: Healing Body, Mind & Spirit Through Journal Writing 4 copies
Associated Works
Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation (2003) — Foreword, some editions — 16,702 copies, 344 reviews
For the Love of Books: 115 Celebrated Writers on the Books They Love Most (1999) — Contributor — 479 copies, 4 reviews
The Book That Changed My Life: 71 Remarkable Writers Celebrate the Books That Matter Most to Them (2006) — Contributor — 411 copies, 18 reviews
How I Learned English: 55 Accomplished Latinos Recall Lessons in Language and Life (2007) — Afterword — 54 copies, 4 reviews
Tagged
Common Knowledge
- Canonical name
- McCourt, Frank
- Legal name
- McCourt, Francis
- Birthdate
- 1930-08-19
- Date of death
- 2009-07-19
- Gender
- male
- Education
- New York University (BA|1957)
Brooklyn College (MA|1967)
Trinity College, Dublin - Occupations
- teacher (public schools, New York City)
novelist - Organizations
- American Federation of Teachers (member)
National Arts Club (member)
United States Army - Awards and honors
- Honorary Doctorate (University of Western Ontario)
Pulitzer Prize for Biography or Autobiography (1997)
National Book Critics Circle Award (1996)
Golden Plate Award (1999) - Relationships
- McCourt, Malachy (brother)
McCourt, Alphie (brother) - Cause of death
- melanoma
- Nationality
- Ireland
USA (birth) - Birthplace
- Brooklyn, New York, USA
- Places of residence
- New York, New York, USA
Limerick, Ireland
Roxbury, Connecticut, USA - Place of death
- New York, New York, USA
- Burial location
- cremated, ashes scattered in three places
Great Oak Cemetery, Litchfield, Connecticut, USA
Limerick, Ireland (Carrigogunnell Castle and Mungret Abbey) - Associated Place (for map)
- USA
Members
Reviews
I wanted to love this book--so many whose opinions I respect adored it beyond words. I actually saw the film and remember liking it a lot. At first I thought I would love it. The book is McCourt's memoir of his miserable childhood in Ireland. With an emphasis on misery. The first pages really pulled me in. It had the kind of prose that makes you think, "this is a great book." It reads likes a novel, is crafted like a novel. But the book has lots of modernist touches such as long passages show more reporting the speech of people--without quotation marks and sometimes without even paragraphing--minimalist punctuation, use of the present tense, parts that could be called stream of consciousness... I admit this is a style I find off-putting, in spite of it being rather appropriate for a book set in the land of James Joyce.
But I think it was the sheer numbing misery, combined with the creative non-fiction embellishments that eventually really got to me. McCourt began by writing, “When I look back on my childhood I wonder how I managed to survive at all.” Given what he related, I did too. And it's not very credible as non-fiction given McCourt purported to remember in detail events in his early childhood fifty years later--which along with the consciously literary style undercut for me a lot of his credibility, making me wonder how much of the account was exaggerated. (Those who knew the McCourts in Limerick also fiercly dispute a lot of his stories.)
I know for a lot of people it was precisely the style they loved. I know for a lot of people, despite the dire poverty related, they found this book uplifting rather than depressing. They found lots of humor in it rather than finding it relentlessly grim with people (characters?) impossible to like. I detested Frank's father--and his mother wasn't a prize either. And I found Frank more bitter and whiny than charming. I've long given up trying to give objective ratings. Maybe the book deserves its acclaim, but if anything, my rating is generous. I didn't find it "OK" as befits a Goodreads two stars. I disliked it. I started it thinking it a joy to read but I quickly found it a chore to read. show less
But I think it was the sheer numbing misery, combined with the creative non-fiction embellishments that eventually really got to me. McCourt began by writing, “When I look back on my childhood I wonder how I managed to survive at all.” Given what he related, I did too. And it's not very credible as non-fiction given McCourt purported to remember in detail events in his early childhood fifty years later--which along with the consciously literary style undercut for me a lot of his credibility, making me wonder how much of the account was exaggerated. (Those who knew the McCourts in Limerick also fiercly dispute a lot of his stories.)
I know for a lot of people it was precisely the style they loved. I know for a lot of people, despite the dire poverty related, they found this book uplifting rather than depressing. They found lots of humor in it rather than finding it relentlessly grim with people (characters?) impossible to like. I detested Frank's father--and his mother wasn't a prize either. And I found Frank more bitter and whiny than charming. I've long given up trying to give objective ratings. Maybe the book deserves its acclaim, but if anything, my rating is generous. I didn't find it "OK" as befits a Goodreads two stars. I disliked it. I started it thinking it a joy to read but I quickly found it a chore to read. show less
I enjoyed Frank McCourt’s childhood biography, Angela’s Ashes, but never bothered to pick up ’Tis, so I wasn’t sure if I would find any coherent link between the child of Ireland and America, and the teacher of American children… McCourt, however, brought his whole life to his teaching experiences, and his memoir of those years is a moving, (if directionless), wholly worthwhile read. I could have spent a lot longer reading about the first 8 years of his career, because his show more floundering and occasional flashes of brilliance made for fascinating reading.
I was especially moved by the respect and appreciation he granted the pupils that graced his classrooms, even those that tested his early, fledgling teaching ability beyond its limits. I admit I expected something much more cynical from a retired teacher, but McCourt’s cynicism is reserved for his own life, bringing the internal Catholic guilt down upon himself for not somehow knowing or achieving what he wanted to do with his life – this despite having obviously done it, then and later, and quite successfully, at that. show less
I was especially moved by the respect and appreciation he granted the pupils that graced his classrooms, even those that tested his early, fledgling teaching ability beyond its limits. I admit I expected something much more cynical from a retired teacher, but McCourt’s cynicism is reserved for his own life, bringing the internal Catholic guilt down upon himself for not somehow knowing or achieving what he wanted to do with his life – this despite having obviously done it, then and later, and quite successfully, at that. show less
Non-fiction memoir about Frank McCourt’s family from his birth in 1930 to 1949. After being born in Brooklyn in 1930, Frank’s father, Malachy, has troubles with alcohol and with finding work, and, during the Great Depression, decides to return to Ireland. The alcohol and work issues continue in Ireland, and the growing family lives in poverty.
The titular Angela is Frank’s long-suffering mother. She endures a seemingly never-ending series of hardships, including her husband’s show more alcoholism, abandonment, and the deaths of multiple children. McCourt gives us an idea of her character: “You never know when you might come home and find Mam sitting by the fire chatting with a woman and a child, strangers. Always a woman and child. Mam finds them wandering the streets and if they ask, Could you spare a few pennies, miss? her heart breaks. She never has money so she invites them home for tea and a bit of fried bread and if it’s a bad night she’ll let them sleep by the fire on a pile of rags in the corner. The bread she gives them always means less for us and if we complain she says there are always people worse off and we can surely spare a little from what we have.”
While the misery is vividly portrayed, McCourt offsets it with subtle humor. For example, his father would drunkenly awaken his children during the night, singing patriotic songs and making them pledge to die for Ireland, leading Frank to observe: “The master says it’s a glorious thing to die for the Faith and Dad says it’s a glorious thing to die for Ireland and I wonder if there’s anyone in the world who would like us to live.” At one point, his mother wants him to learn to dance, leading to: how I can die for Ireland if I have to sing and dance for Ireland, too. I wonder why they never say, You can eat sweets and stay home from school and go swimming for Ireland.”
It is written from a child’s perspective in present tense. Much of the narrative is extremely detailed, and it may be too much description of misery for some people. I found it poignant, filled with both tragedy and humor. I particularly enjoyed all references to books and storytelling McCourt encountered in his youth, as it would be very easy for people living under dire conditions to never be exposed to literature. show less
The titular Angela is Frank’s long-suffering mother. She endures a seemingly never-ending series of hardships, including her husband’s show more alcoholism, abandonment, and the deaths of multiple children. McCourt gives us an idea of her character: “You never know when you might come home and find Mam sitting by the fire chatting with a woman and a child, strangers. Always a woman and child. Mam finds them wandering the streets and if they ask, Could you spare a few pennies, miss? her heart breaks. She never has money so she invites them home for tea and a bit of fried bread and if it’s a bad night she’ll let them sleep by the fire on a pile of rags in the corner. The bread she gives them always means less for us and if we complain she says there are always people worse off and we can surely spare a little from what we have.”
While the misery is vividly portrayed, McCourt offsets it with subtle humor. For example, his father would drunkenly awaken his children during the night, singing patriotic songs and making them pledge to die for Ireland, leading Frank to observe: “The master says it’s a glorious thing to die for the Faith and Dad says it’s a glorious thing to die for Ireland and I wonder if there’s anyone in the world who would like us to live.” At one point, his mother wants him to learn to dance, leading to: how I can die for Ireland if I have to sing and dance for Ireland, too. I wonder why they never say, You can eat sweets and stay home from school and go swimming for Ireland.”
It is written from a child’s perspective in present tense. Much of the narrative is extremely detailed, and it may be too much description of misery for some people. I found it poignant, filled with both tragedy and humor. I particularly enjoyed all references to books and storytelling McCourt encountered in his youth, as it would be very easy for people living under dire conditions to never be exposed to literature. show less
show more
My father and mother should have stayed in New York where they met and married and where I was born. Instead, they returned to Ireland when I was four, my brother, Malachy three, the twins, Oliver and Eugene, barely one, and my sister, Margaret, dead and gone.
When I look back on my childhood I wonder how I survived at all. It was, of course, a miserable childhood: the happy childhood is hardly worth your while. Worse than the ordinary miserable childhood is the miserable Irish childhood, and
worse yet is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood.
After 30 years teaching in New York City's public schools, Frank McCourt turned to writing. [Angela's Ashes], his first book, published as a memoir, was an enormous success, selling more than 3 million copies, earning the 1997 Pulitzer Prize for biography and a 1996 National Book Critics Circle Award, and making him a millionaire.The opening paragraphs (quoted above) set the tone.
Malachy McCourt Sr. was born in Northern Ireland, his wife Angela (Sheehan) in Limerick. Malachy couldn't find work anywhere in Ireland because of his Northern Irish accent and heritage, so the family settled in Limerick near Angela's mother and sister.They sheltered in wretched slum dwellings, a room with one bed for two adults and four children. Ostensibly, they lived on welfare and on charity, both only grudgingly awarded. An alcoholic, Malachy would drink up whatever money came into his hands.Ultimately, the twins perished, but sons Michael and Alphonso were born.
The book abounds with tales of squalid living conditions, absence of sanitation, meager and nutrition-free meals, cheating merchants, cold and judgmental neighbors, charity with strings, cold and judgmental priests.
Education is a central theme in Angela's Ashes. Marooned in Limerick, McCourt's mam enrolls him in Leamy's National School.
There are seven masters…and they all have leather straps, canes, blackthorn sticks. They hit you with the sticks on the shoulders, the back, the legs, and, especially, the hands. If they hit you on the hands it's called a slap. They hit you if you're late, if you have a leaky nib on your pen, if you laugh, if you talk, and if you don't know things.
They hit you if you don't know why God made the world, if you don't know the patron saint of Limerick, if you can't recite the Apostles' Creed, if you can't add nineteen to forty-seven, if you can't subtract nineteen from forty-seven, if you don't know the chief towns and products of the thirty-two counties of Ireland, if you can't find Bulgaria on the wall map of the world that's blotted with spit, snot, and blobs of ink thrown by angry pupils expelled forever.
They hit you if you can't say your name in Irish, if you can't say the Hail Mary in Irish, if you can't ask for the lavatory pass in Irish.
McCourt's memories of Leamy's School brought to my mind the same sorts of goads to learning in Joyce's [Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man] and Dickens's [David Copperfield]. Spare the rod and spoil the child, indeed. From the schoolmasters of Dickens in the 1850s to those of McCourt in the 1940s, the "incentives" didn't change. Educators are very slow learners.
It's no wonder, then, that young Frankie wanted to leave school and simply get a job. Any money that got into his father's hands was spent at a pub. Money Frankie earned would go straight to his mam. So he did work while still in school: tough, physical labor. On Saturdays, he helped a nearly lame Mr.Hannon to deliver sacks of coal and peat, and Hannon delivered him some heart-felt advice: "School, Frankie, school. The books, the books, the books. Get out of Limerick before your legs rot and your mind collapses entirely."
Later on, Frank was beguiled by boys he saw delivering telegrams, bicycling around Limerick, earning money, occasionally getting tips from message recipients. Leamy's head master. Mr. O'Halloran, tries to keep him in school:
[Mrs. McCourt] comes to see him [O'Halloran] and he talks to her in the hallway. He tells her that her son Frank must continue school. He must not fall into the messenger boy trap. That leads nowhere. Take him up to the Christian Brothers, tell them I sent you, tell them he is a bright boy and ought to be going to secondary school and beyond that, university.
…She knocks on the door at the Christian Brothers and says she wants to see the superior, Brother Murray. He comes to the door, looks at my mother and me and says, What?
Mam says, This is my son, Frank. Mr. O'Halloran at Leamy's says he's bright and would there be any chance of getting him in here for secondary school?
We don't have room for him, says Brother Murray and closes the door in our faces.
So much for an Irish education.
The success of the book spawned harsh criticism. McCourt's recollections were questioned and disputed. The McCourts were never all that poor, the conditions were never that squalid, the neighbors never that cruel. McCourt's response? "I told my own story. I wrote about my situation, my family, my parents, that's what I experienced and what I felt."
This an excellent book, well-written, involving, ultimately rewarding. show less
Lists
Carole's List (3)
Tour of Ireland (1)
1990s (1)
Non-Fiction (1)
Unread books (1)
100 New Classics (1)
Awards
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Associated Authors
Statistics
- Works
- 23
- Also by
- 9
- Members
- 39,579
- Popularity
- #448
- Rating
- 3.8
- Reviews
- 565
- ISBNs
- 400
- Languages
- 22
- Favorited
- 64
