Frank McCourt 19th July 2009
I read Angela's Ashes but didn't warm to it. Not really. Too grim. Sure, go ahead. Read it: it will do you good but I don't really want to read it again.
I love the warmer bits in Frank's life. Like in 'Tis how he soaked for hours and hours in a hot bath as the only way of keeping warm. And where he goes back to have lunch and a laugh with Horace, "offering me another chunk of sandwich telling me I could use a few pounds on my bones....the power of this sadness that tells me this won't come again, this sandwich, this beer on the pier with Horace that makes me feel so happy all I can do is weep with the sadness in it..."
A sandwich figures in Teacher Man, too. "This bread was dark and thick, baked by an Italian mother in Brooklyn, bread firm enough to hold slices of a rich baloney, layered with slices of tomato, onions and peppers, drizzled with olive oil and charged with a tongue-dazzling relish". A youngster threw the sandwich. Frank ate it. It was classroom management and it worked.
Well done, Frank.
Thanks.
