Rest in Peace, Frankie :-(

Sad, sad day :'-(

Praying

I'm sure it is fairly obvious by now that Frank McCourt is among my very favorite authors. Please say a prayer for him and his family...I just saw this article that says he is in the hospital with meningitis, and is not expected to live. He is 78 years old. Pray for his health and comfort, and the same for his family.

He's such a very talented man. I wish I'd gotten to meet him (and still hope to...maybe he'll pull through this!)

A Long Stone's Throw by Alphie McCourt

Before I really get started, let me first say that I normally am not particularly interested in biographies or autobiographies. On a few occasions, a person's life has caught my attention enough to make me want to read more about them, but generally, it's just not my thing. That being said, here's what I thought about Alphie McCourt's A Long Stone's Throw.

I picked up A Long Stone's Throw because I hoped it would capture me in the way that Frank McCourt's books did, but sadly, that was not the case. It is rare that I have trouble finishing a book, but this simply did not grab me.

I think that the difference was that Frank McCourt's works are about his struggle to overcome hardship, but also his continual success in doing so. Alphie McCourt seemed, on the other hand, to be what I fear becoming myself. He struggles constantly through this memoir, and time after time, he fails. The underlying message, I suppose, is that you simply cannot give up. You must trudge on and try something else if whatever you're doing isn't working. It may be that I had difficulty in finishing this book because I saw too much of myself in it, but I just prefer to read stories with more hope than this one offered.

Frank and Alphie McCourt have another brother, Malachy, who is himself a published author, and I believe has done some work in the film industry, and I still intend to check out his work...but for now, my favorite McCourt author is still Frank. However, I am not at all sorry that I read this...I think a dose of reality is healthy from time to time, no matter how hard it can be to take.

I haven't yet decided what to pick up next, but when I do, I'll let y'all know!

*EDIT*
I do want to make one thing clear: this book did end well. It wasn't completely devoid of hope or happiness. It just took a lot longer for Alphie McCourt to find stability and contentment. I very much respect the fact that he trudged on and struggled through in spite of failures. I don't want you to think that it was a complete downer. It was heavy, but it did end well.

A Long Stone's Throw by Alphie McCourt

In high school, Angela's Ashes, by Frank McCourt, was required reading for most of the school. I was in the gifted & talented program, though, and had a different set of required literature. Everyone hated Angela's Ashes, as I remember, but something about it intrigued me, and I desperately wanted to read it. As soon as I got my hands on a copy, I read it and was hooked from page one. I proceeded to read the sequels: 'Tis, and later, Teacher Man, each purchased on the day of release. I want very much to meet Frank McCourt someday. I can only hope I have the chance. These books are his memoirs, written in such a way that in my head I hear his accent and even inflection, and can imagine myself sitting in his classroom listening to his stories, rather than reading them from across the country.

Alphie McCourt is the youngest brother of Frank, and in wandering in Barnes & Noble last weekend, I recognized his name immediately upon seeing this book, A Long Stone's Throw, on the shelf. I had to buy it! His writing style is a bit different from his brother's, but equally easy and engaging. I'm half-way through and love it.

These books, all of them, have a common thread in my mind: hope in the midst of hopelessness, overcoming all odds. They are sad, funny, bitingly honest, but hopeful even when despairing.

My favorite quote so far:

Newspapers, spread and layered among old overcoats and blankets, provide great
insulation against the cold. And our tablecloth is a newspaper. But when we try
to read books at the table, Mam despairs of us. "Yee always have yeer heads
buried in a book." We persist in trying to read at the table, but she won't
allow it. Such a practice is bad manners, she tells us, but we read anyway. We
read the newspaper tablecloth, even upside down. Reading, a terrible addiction.

I especially love that last sentence! I'll post again when I've finished it!