These lines basically sum up what’s to read in Frank McCourt’s Angela’s Ashes. The author recounts his desperately poor early years, living on public assistance and losing three siblings, wearing shoes repaired with tires, begging a pig’s head for Christmas dinner, and searching the pubs for his father who is drinking away the family’s dinner.
Without the humor, the book would have been a very difficult read for me. Just when you thought the family's situation couldn't any uglier, a new problem arises. I almost put down the book in despair after reading just about twenty pages of it. But I’m glad that I didn’t.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008 | 0 Comments
I'm not really into self-help books. As a matter of fact, I despise self-help books. So when a friend lent me he copy of Spencer Johnson's Who Moved My Cheese, I was prepared to ignore it. What made me read the book were the picture of a cheese in the cover and the word cheese itself.
The book came as a pleasant surprise. I actually liked it. Realizations about my job hit me right in the face while I was reading it. In two months time, I'm doing something that I should have done a year ago. Time for me to look for Cheese Station N.
Thursday, July 24, 2008 | 1 Comments