Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt

Publisher: Scribner

Genre: Memoir

Where I got it: When I was looking for an interesting book to read I found this book on Mrs. Meadow’s desk.

One sentence summary: Frank McCourt’s childhood with a drinking father and a mother trying to keep her family alive; is a struggle of poverty and sadness that is always able to make its entrance.

First sentence: My father and mother should have stayed in New York where they met and married where I was born.

First chapter review: The first chapter is an opening door to Frank McCourt’s childhood. In this chapter the author writes about how his parents met and got married in New York. He mentions that he had four brothers and at last received a baby sister. During this chapter he describes how the death of Margret—the baby sister—affected his father’s drinking habit and their decision to move back to Ireland.

Verdict: I would put this on the list of books that you’ll take time to read or read a couple times for all the details and events. I would suggest this book to anyone but young children because of death. This story is an excellent book; even better for some who have gone through a tough childhood. It will leave you wanting more.

Cover comments: Shows a filthy boy leaning against a wall without his shoes. The run down building and streets show the neighborhood isn’t as great as you may think. Though we can only assume the boy is poor, he still has a smile on his face.

Pale Cherry Blossom-Benjamin Moore 2101-60

A clear droplet

smashed and scattered.

The sky dying,

the sun buried,

the clouds awakening.

She was the lone cherry blossom.

She was ripped,

torn,

stepped all over.

She was cracked,

rigid,

and sharp.

She was broken glass.

She ran,

tripped,

and fell to her hands and knees.

The petals flew into

the distance over

the horizon.

They danced

and ran

and landed softly.

She panted,

gasping to catch her breath.

She crawled

like a toddler,

under the blossoming tree.

She leaned

with fairness

with her face in a pool

and gray, gaunt eyes

that lost life.

She was the lone cherry blossom.

The only one

that soared high up,

until shot down.

She started staring

with cold eyes,

dark eyes,

dead eyes.

The scared girls

walking down the street turned,

and clung

to their boyfriends.

She flinched with envy,

why couldn't that be her?

Why didn't she choose the right one?

What did she do to deserve pain?

She was the lone cherry blossom.

The one that always flew high.

The one always shot down.

The one that gets hurt.

Her soft hands

gently rubbed

against her cheek.

The imprint stayed,

the pain stayed,

the handprint stayed.

He's mean,

he's cruel,

he's her boyfriend.

The small petals float

and circle around

the trunk of the tree.

They understand,

they have lived,

they have died,

only to be reborn again.

She is the twirling petal

that drifts high,

until it's pulled down by gravity

turning pale and dry.

The petals surround her.

The one lone cherry blossom

flies high with them,

not to be shot down.

We Said We Would

He lost himself in a maze.

Grass was worn away,

on two sides was the beach.

Business...not fun.

Talking... not laughing.

Cleverness...not jokes.

We were going to have water,

but the shells are dry.

We said things,

but we don't do.

We said we'd have water

from the stream.

We said we'd have it

in coconut shells,

but we drink from the river.

There's no coconut shells,

no fresh leaves,

and no water from the stream.

Business...not fun.

Talking...not laughing.

Cleverness...not jokes.

We sleep in shelters,

but who built them?

Who build all three?

Who built the shelters

that we need?

Everyone built the first.

Four built the second.

Two built the last.

Business...not fun.

Talking...not laughing.

Cleverness...not jokes.

Waste time on small fires.

From now on

only the mountain fire.

We nearly set the island on fire.

I have the conch,

I am chief

so listen to me.

The littleuns know the beastie.

The littleuns know it's real.

The littleuns know they're frightened.

The boys stood in the darkness.

A thin wail chilled them,

and Percival

was lying in the grass.

Where I'm From

I am from the swaying trees

and blooming flowers in my backyard,

from Home Depot and Lowe's.

I am from the red ant hill in my living room,

the small grey painted room

with the queen sized bed I jumped on every time.

I am from the plants cramped in flower pots,

the small "good luck" bamboo plant sitting on the table.

I am from the red packets of money

my parents give me and "don't go too far from home."

From "mommy I want more toys" to "hey kids we're moving."

I am from flying above the ocean

halfway around the world.

I am from packing with flat cardboard boxes.

I am from birthday cakes once in a while.

I am from eat the whole cake and not just the frosting.

I am from eating fruit every week instead of sweets.

I am from "confess before you're gone" and "tell me when you're ready."

I am from "I'll be here for you" to "don't put yourself down."

I am from "risks are good for you cause what's the worse that can happen?"

I am from taking the cookie and get caught.

I am from praying at temples and praying on Chinese New Year.

I am from telling dad what I want for Christmas and knowing what's coming.

I am from those moments.

A tree identical to others,

but special on its own.

Japan's Earthquake

The earthquake in Japan was an extremely tragic time. I was one of the victims, so I know how the people grappled with the shock. The oceans deployed waves the size of cranes and two story houses, destroying everything in their path. And this was just the beginning.

I was sitting in my tiny cubical trying to do my job. It was crucial that I finish my report before my boss threw another tantrum over my work. I had to be adept, every single letter had to be quadruple-checked. After I finished with that, I was to make a dent in a copious amount of paperwork that were stacked on my desk. There was obviously no time to banter with my colleagues, no breaks either.

I remember putting the finishing touches on my report, and the next minute paper was falling, lights were swinging and crashing. People were running around screaming. This was the definition of chaos. Walls cracked with bits of dried paint hitting the floor. The roof crackled as it split, making it appear to have a layered texture. You have to be fastidious about where you're going to step, being careful not to twist your ankle on debris or cut yourself on shattered glass. The fitful floor started to crumble and shake again, and I lost my footing.

People were grasping for something to cling onto. Our town was so small, I could have heard the screams from the elementary school down the block. Though after about five minutes the earthquake lightened up, after the earthquake came aftershocks and a tsunami to top it off. The tsunami decelerated after a long time—and many deaths—but still trudged on.

After all these events we were told it isn't over, but for now we're trying to get ourselves together. The other countries facilitated our situation by helping us with supplies, medical help, and rescuers. It can only get better, right?

The Late Bloomer's Revolution

The memoir is about a woman named Amy Cohen who has had either bad luck, or just a horrible life. Amy has been in so many relationships, that it’s so hard to count all of them. Every time she dates a guy, she sees them going further than they really will. She thinks of them as the “one for her” and that’s when the guy breaks up with her. She realizes that she’ll just be hurt every time and stays away from love. Now she is in her mid-50’s she has become attached to this one man, and they end up getting married with her saying “I do” confidently.

I think that this book was very well put because I could see how hard her life was. I could see that she was the one trying so hard to stay together with all of the guys, but somehow they thought of her effort as a bother. This book made me learn that just because you’re desperate; it doesn’t mean you should rush into another relationship. Give love time, and it’ll come to you.

The title reflects on how she struggled through most of her life but in the end she gets everything back together. She became even better than she was before. The title of the memoir is actually very important to give a hint about the plot. The title makes the reader think “What happens in this book? I’m going to take this book because it sounds interesting.” The title makes the reader curious about what the book could be about. The title helps move the plot as well because the reader will have the title in the back of their mind while they read.

This book was organized as beads on a string because she goes from one time to another time. She describes how she feels each time and clearly shows her thoughts by her actions. In the book there aren’t many dates and there are no exact times. She shows how she feels so much that you feel like you know her already.

The memoirist came to know that she was being too self-centered about some things. How she wanted a wedding with some people and didn’t consider the other person. She didn’t think about her mother as much as her mother thought of her. She thought that everything her friends said was either from their pity or that they were trying to sympathize with her.

Lines We Love:

“Maybe, after all these years, I finally understood what my mother meant when she said, “People who want to be married are married.””

“I was sad, but I was functioning—eating, sleeping—which was so unlike me.”

What I Believe

I believe in chocolate chip cookies.

I believe looking at

the orange sunset,

will heal your wounds.

I believe that the world

needs rain,

to wash the down the pain.

I believe music brings back nostalgic memories.

I believe if trees

sway in the wind,

birds will learn to fly.

I believe if flowers

can bloom,

children can too.

I believe if you

look at the sky,

you look into yourself.

I believe if you

give a smile,

you'll get a smile.

I believe that

nature cannot be replaced.

I believe when leaves

grow back,

the tree stays the same.

I believe forgiveness

cools the sting,

and warms the heart.

I believe caring

is a beautiful form of love.