“When I look back on my childhood I wonder how I survived at all. It was, of course, a miserable childhood: the happy childhood is hardly worth your while. Worse than the ordinary miserable childhood is the miserable Irish childhood, and worse yet is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood.”

Frank McCourt dedicates his tired but delicate soul to the recollection of his upbringing as the eldest son of his patchwork family in Limerick, Ireland, during the trying era of the Great Depression in his autobiography, which won him a Pulitzer Prize.

Through first-person narrative, McCourt describes unimaginable hardships in the dark, damp slums next to the River Shannon, which only seems to carry disease and death. Though he was born in the great land of America, McCourt's family moved back to Ireland when he was four. He tells of his dream to one day return to his birth land, the land of freedom that he yearns for.

McCourt's style and word choice combine to create a vivid description of the deepest, most gut-wrenching poverty imaginable. He conveys the curiosity and adventure of a boy, quickly growing into a young man, through tales of mischief and excitement, while tapping into his relationship with his alcoholic father.

Explained through whispers and songs of honesty, his story will leave you with echoes of a thick Irish accent. With genuine passion and originality, McCourt will have you feeling his pangs of hunger and gulps of uncertainty as he leads you through his harsh but eye-­opening memoir.