Essay on: Angela’s Ashes - A Depressing Irish Catholic Childhood
One may look back on their childhood to remember the once joyful and free-spirited moments of life. This is not, however, true in Frank McCourt’s case. When reviewing his childhood, all that comes to mind is devastation, death and poverty that followed the lives of so many families in the time period. Through his autobiography, Angela’s Ashes, McCourt depicts the depressing Irish Catholic childhood he woke up to face each morning.
Born in New York in the 1930’s into the house of a miserable cigarette-addicted mother, Angela, and an alcoholic father, Malachy, who spends most of the money he earns on buying pints at the local bar, Frank McCourt is immediately given much to deal with. Being the oldest of seven children in his family, Frank has much more responsibility then the average child today has ever experienced. Frank’s father figure returns home each night completely drunk singing songs of Irish patriotism while abusing and shouting at his family, providing no example for his sons to look up to. His father’s behavior changes for a brief period of time when Frank’s mother gives birth to a young girl, Margaret. His father stops drinking and begins working for the good of the family, however, it isn’t long before this “tiny angel” passes away, destroying all hope of the family’s success. Never again would Frank’s father show such devotion to saving his family. The devastating loss of their only daughter made if unbearable for the family to stay in America with complete memory of the child. The McCourts move to Ireland, which Frank later admits was the worst decision they could have made at that time.
Reaching Ireland with not a cent, the McCourts first find shelter with their father’s relatives then their mother’s siblings until finally they could settle under a roof of their own in Limerick. Frank and his brother, Malachy, are sent to a strict Catholic school while his father finds a job to support the family. Their conditions, however, do not improve and it is not long before their father looses his job and two of Frank’s youngest brothers become ill and pass away. There seems to be no hope of a better future for the McCourts in these new surroundings. The family is soon forced to beg neighbors and churches near by for food or money. They grow weak and desperate with what seems to be a slim chance of survival. Numerous nights consist of Frank’s drunken father returning home to his silent mother smoking and starring blankly into the ash filled fire place, eyes full or tears. So many nights the McCourts spend freezing in their beds with not a single flame in the fire place or a hot scrap of food on the table. One night, the McCourt’s result to picking up scraps of wood along the River Shannon. “She says that’s what she missed most of all in America, the River Shannon. The Hudson was lovely but the Shannon sings. I can’t hear the song but my mother does and that makes her happy. Mam tells us gather anything that burns along the Dock Road; coal, wood, cardboard, paper. She says, There are them that burn the horse droppings but we’re not gone that low yet” (69). To me, McCourt’s writing comes off as a intriguing style that I have never seen before. McCourt is able to depict such a compelling story of his miserable childhood so vividly that it makes one feel very sympathetic while reading. The conditions he lived under are unimaginable, and it is extraordinary he survived such a challenging youth.
The book concludes with Frank’s father finally deciding to move to England and work in the factories to make money that will support his family. As usual, he is not always faithful to his words, and most weeks spends the money on alcohol. As a result, the McCourts can no longer pay their rent and are forced out of their home and move in with their mother’s relative. At the age of fifteen, Frank longs to be independent and takes off to become a self-responsible man, finding a job as s mailman in the local post office. It is at this time that he realizes he has had enough of the desperate life in Ireland and decides to save each bit of many he earns to buy a ticket to America, the land of hope and dreams.
Angela’s ashes represent the ashes which fall from her cigarettes and the ash-filled fire place Angela stars at so blankly each day. As she revolves so many of her days around these ashes, the book begins to obtain an ashy feel of its own. It is a dark, lifeless and sunless feel that coats the novel. The ashes represent Angela’s crumbled dreams of raising a healthy family with a supportive responsible father. Instead, Angela is left with cigarettes for comfort and the warmth of smoldered ashes in the fireplace. Angela’s Ashes not only opened my eyes to the true extent of misery one’s childhood can possess but also showed me how unexpected life can be when under the most deprived of situations a family is able to survive.
