Angelas Ashes: Almost a tale of Pinoy life
April 14, 2002 | 12:00am
The day I discovered U2 was the day I became more aware of the Irish. It is not surprising at all that several Irish musicians have topped international music charts. The Irish have the enigmatic new age artist Enya, the rock band Cranberries, and the boyband Boyzone. What is surprising is the fact that the Irish and Filipinos have a lot in common. First, as mentioned, both countries have very talented musicians. Second, both are predominantly Catholic. Third, both have very colorful myths and legends. We have Bernardo Carpio and the lamang-loob. The Irish have Cuchulainn (pronounced as koo-hool-n) and the leprechauns. Fourth, though both the Irish and Filipinos are Catholic, they are very superstitious. And lastly, both countries have a sad history of oppression. The English upon the Irish and the Spanish upon the Filipinos. Since I have read and have virtually become part of Angelas Ashes, I am more convinced that Ireland is Europes version of Asias Philippines.
I am not the typical book worm who reads a good book in one sitting. If its a good book, I would savor every word in it. Money for me is a product of hard work, so when I buy a book I make sure it is worth my time and money. When a books cover is adorned with literary awards, Ill grab it from the shelf and read the synopsis at the back cover at once.
What compelled me though to buy Angelas Ashes is not the fact that it won the 1997 Pulitzer Prize, but the melancholic voice of the author inviting me to read his "miserable Irish Catholic childhood."
Angelas Ashes is a true story of survival. It is the story of Frank McCourts wretched childhood, how he managed to survive and escape abject poverty, a dysfunctional family, and a religion made harsh by its practitioners.
A scenario that plays itself over and over again in my mind is the despicable father who drinks away what little money the family should have spent on food. He comes home drunk, wakes the children up (Frank and his brother Malachy), and makes them sing nationalistic songs with him. It was a desperate attempt at redemption. The mother, just like Sisa in Noli Me Tangere, is unable to control her husbands wrongdoing. You can see her efforts to eke out a living for the family, sometimes resorting to what her husband considers shameful: begging. The book gives you the impression that the author has deeper respect for his father than his mother. Because even if Franks father drinks away their money and even after he leaves them, Frank does not use any harsh words to express what anger he must have felt for his father. But when his mother has an affair with her cousin, you could feel the authors wrath towards the sinner. When his father is doing something wrong, he sees it with the eyes of a child. When his mother is committing a grave sin, he sees it with adolescent eyes.
There lies the magic of the book. As you read Franks memoirs, you grow up with him from childhood to boyhood to youth.
I smiled and I laughed at several passages. It is easy to be attached to the book because most of what happened in Franks life happens in our lives as well. Memories of his first communion, of his childhood dialogues with supposed angels, of his first sexual experience and the guilt and the confession that come after it. All this makes you think that maybe Catholic life, whether Irish or Filipino, like the Church herself, is the same everywhere.
Angelas Ashes not only chronicles the life of the child Frank. It embodies the lives of the Irish people as well. In a way, it transcends the borders of Ireland and finds its way to our country, the Philippines. The picture of poverty, the influence of the conservative Catholic church, the drunk father, the figurative factory of poor children, the religious grandmother they are all symbols and icons in the lives of the majority of the Filipinos.
After Frank McCourt survives his childhood, he seeks a way to escape his miserable life. His solution is to go to America where life seems to be more livable.
And so he does leave Ireland.
Tis our plight, too. As Filipinos experience the painful lashes of poverty, they too, seek greener pastures.
I am not the typical book worm who reads a good book in one sitting. If its a good book, I would savor every word in it. Money for me is a product of hard work, so when I buy a book I make sure it is worth my time and money. When a books cover is adorned with literary awards, Ill grab it from the shelf and read the synopsis at the back cover at once.
What compelled me though to buy Angelas Ashes is not the fact that it won the 1997 Pulitzer Prize, but the melancholic voice of the author inviting me to read his "miserable Irish Catholic childhood."
Angelas Ashes is a true story of survival. It is the story of Frank McCourts wretched childhood, how he managed to survive and escape abject poverty, a dysfunctional family, and a religion made harsh by its practitioners.
A scenario that plays itself over and over again in my mind is the despicable father who drinks away what little money the family should have spent on food. He comes home drunk, wakes the children up (Frank and his brother Malachy), and makes them sing nationalistic songs with him. It was a desperate attempt at redemption. The mother, just like Sisa in Noli Me Tangere, is unable to control her husbands wrongdoing. You can see her efforts to eke out a living for the family, sometimes resorting to what her husband considers shameful: begging. The book gives you the impression that the author has deeper respect for his father than his mother. Because even if Franks father drinks away their money and even after he leaves them, Frank does not use any harsh words to express what anger he must have felt for his father. But when his mother has an affair with her cousin, you could feel the authors wrath towards the sinner. When his father is doing something wrong, he sees it with the eyes of a child. When his mother is committing a grave sin, he sees it with adolescent eyes.
There lies the magic of the book. As you read Franks memoirs, you grow up with him from childhood to boyhood to youth.
I smiled and I laughed at several passages. It is easy to be attached to the book because most of what happened in Franks life happens in our lives as well. Memories of his first communion, of his childhood dialogues with supposed angels, of his first sexual experience and the guilt and the confession that come after it. All this makes you think that maybe Catholic life, whether Irish or Filipino, like the Church herself, is the same everywhere.
Angelas Ashes not only chronicles the life of the child Frank. It embodies the lives of the Irish people as well. In a way, it transcends the borders of Ireland and finds its way to our country, the Philippines. The picture of poverty, the influence of the conservative Catholic church, the drunk father, the figurative factory of poor children, the religious grandmother they are all symbols and icons in the lives of the majority of the Filipinos.
After Frank McCourt survives his childhood, he seeks a way to escape his miserable life. His solution is to go to America where life seems to be more livable.
And so he does leave Ireland.
Tis our plight, too. As Filipinos experience the painful lashes of poverty, they too, seek greener pastures.
BrandSpace Articles
<
>