Alphie’s turn: The third McCourt brother
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And now a few words from Alphie McCourt about his mother:
Mam was a fair cook and a good baker of brown bread and griddlecakes, but housekeeping never held any interest for her. She would let things go and go until she became overwhelmed. In her way a liberated woman, she had emigrated to New York at an early age to work as a domestic. Her marriage lasted long enough for her to bear seven children and lose three before she was left on her own to bring up the remaining four of us, in desperate circumstances. Still, by some miracle she is able to smile again, to laugh and sing again.
‘Mam’ is, of course, Angela, who took on mythical dimensions in her sufferings in Frank McCourt’s enormous bestselling memoir ‘Angela’s Ashes.’ It is so strange to come across a phrase like ‘in desperate circumstances’ here and recall what the two other McCourts, Frank and Malachy, have said about those circumstances. What must it be like to tell your version of your family story when two testimonies have gone before you? Is it impossible?
Earlier this year, Alphie McCourt told Publishers Weekly why he chose to write his own book. In short, he explained, he didn’t want to be ‘a footnote to the history of my own family.’ His memoir ‘A Long Stone’s Throw’ (Sterling & Ross), which was recently published, proves itself to be hardly just a book-long ‘for the record.’ (A fan of audiobooks remarked on Book Blogs how much she loved the story -- and ‘Alphie McCourt’s accent.’) The writing is assured, as McCourt describes life in Ireland after his brothers leave for America. He follows suit as soon as he can. Even in New York, though near to them, he still finds himself an outsider, however. And this, perhaps, is why he was able to write his own story -- his story isn’t Frank’s and Malachy’s. Alphie says himself how he lived apart from them:
Each of my brothers has a sphere of influence and a circle of friends in the Village and on the Upper East Side. I have been introduced to all, but I am unable to find any footing. Everyone I meet is friendly and convivial, but I sorely miss the contexts of my life in Limerick. I don’t miss the predictability, but I miss having a place among the givens and the customs.
Maybe that is why he was able to pull this book off: There was a distance between him and his siblings. In fact, I’m sure there’s a dissertation somewhere in all of this. OK, the Bronte clan’s works have been studied together. Now wouldn’t it be perfect to study three views of a harrowing childhood and see what develops?
-- Nick Owchar