For the past couple weeks, a certain book I read not so very long ago kept popping in and out of my head, but I could not for the life of me remember the title. Not so unusual, given the general disrepair of my memory, but bothersome, you know--because what I wanted was to see if the promised sequels to the book had been published, and, in order to do that, it was of course necessary to remember either the title of the book I had read or the name of its author.
Yesterday, in one of these weird twists of synchronicity, I happened quite by accident to run across the title while looking at something else on the internet for some other reason.
The book is Angela's Ashes, and the author is Frank McCourt. It is an autobiography of his childhood years in Ireland, spent in hardship and poverty beyond the imagination of most folks; and McCourt, in his manner of relaying the story, makes it both heartbreaking and hilarious, which is perhaps an achievement only the Irish can truly rise to.
I noted that the two sequels are now indeed available (Oh Boy!), and moreover that a movie had been made of Angela's Ashes.
Naturally, I straightaway looked this up and watched it last night on my laptop. As is most often the case with movies made from great books, the film fell short somewhat, and I think that is because the humor had a hard time overcoming the relentlessly bleak stage on which it transpires. But therein, on the other hand, lies the strength of the film, for it is grey and grimy and rainy throughout. Poverty pictured is even more striking than poverty described.
What I found myself contemplating, after finishing the film, is how very fortunate I have been in life. I have never wanted for the basics of existence--food, clothing, warmth, security. I have never had to worry about what, or whether, I would eat the next day. I have never had to worry whether I would have a house to live in or parents to take care of me. I have never had to eat out of a garbage can nor off a discarded, oily sheet of newspaper. Though I have never had a lot in life, comparatively speaking, I have also never wanted for anything essential. I suppose that now in these present years I am poorer than I have ever been beforehand, and yet, compared to the lot of the McCourt's, I live in abundance and comfort. And so for that I am thankful. Newly thankful.
Yesterday, in one of these weird twists of synchronicity, I happened quite by accident to run across the title while looking at something else on the internet for some other reason.
The book is Angela's Ashes, and the author is Frank McCourt. It is an autobiography of his childhood years in Ireland, spent in hardship and poverty beyond the imagination of most folks; and McCourt, in his manner of relaying the story, makes it both heartbreaking and hilarious, which is perhaps an achievement only the Irish can truly rise to.
I noted that the two sequels are now indeed available (Oh Boy!), and moreover that a movie had been made of Angela's Ashes.
Naturally, I straightaway looked this up and watched it last night on my laptop. As is most often the case with movies made from great books, the film fell short somewhat, and I think that is because the humor had a hard time overcoming the relentlessly bleak stage on which it transpires. But therein, on the other hand, lies the strength of the film, for it is grey and grimy and rainy throughout. Poverty pictured is even more striking than poverty described.
What I found myself contemplating, after finishing the film, is how very fortunate I have been in life. I have never wanted for the basics of existence--food, clothing, warmth, security. I have never had to worry about what, or whether, I would eat the next day. I have never had to worry whether I would have a house to live in or parents to take care of me. I have never had to eat out of a garbage can nor off a discarded, oily sheet of newspaper. Though I have never had a lot in life, comparatively speaking, I have also never wanted for anything essential. I suppose that now in these present years I am poorer than I have ever been beforehand, and yet, compared to the lot of the McCourt's, I live in abundance and comfort. And so for that I am thankful. Newly thankful.
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