Enough about health care...

...for a minute. I'd like to say one last word about Frank McCourt.

The memoir is probably my favorite literary genre. And some of the best memoirs I've read were written by unknown people. In fact, usually the more unknown the author, the better. Conversely, the more famous the author, the less likely I am to even read it. Someone like Bill or Hillary Clinton, for example, are just writing their memoirs to spin the truth in an effort to shape their legacy (and make money). Not interested.

When Frank McCourt came out with Angela's Ashes, it was an immediate sensation. This alone made me suspicious and I was reluctant to read it. As a curmudgeon, I hate following the crowd. Eventually I broke down, however, and I'm glad I did. (I think someone gave it to me as a present. "Read this, you old Mick; you'll enjoy it.") And I did--thoroughly. While many people thought it was terribly depressing, I found it to be positively inspiring. Life threw everything at this guy except the kitchen sink and he still survived. What a great story. And so well-written. (I could also hear a lot of my relatives in the dialogue.)

Shortly after reading AA, I met a priest from Limerick named Paddy Tyrrell. In an effort to ingratiate myself with him, I asked him how many times he'd read the book. His cheerful demeanor changed abruptly and he gave me an icy stare. "Once," he practically spat out. (Sorry I asked.) Apparently more than a few people in Limerick (and the rest of Ireland for that matter) were somewhat less than thrilled with their portrayal in the book. Father Paddy had other reasons. He explained that many of the stories in AA were not only embellished but in some cases outright fiction. For example, take the time McCourt and a friend climbed up a ladder to look through the bedroom window of his friend's sister's as she was getting undressed. Father Paddy claimed to have met the friend once and he told him there was only one problem with the story: he didn't have a sister. (I'll be darned.)

It was with this in mind that I approached 'Tis and Teacher Man. I have to admit that some of the stories in these volumes were hard even for me to believe. But they were so good and so well-written!

And then I noticed this article in the Daily Beast by Lee Siegel, "Did Frank McCourt Invent James Frey?"

http://www.thedailybeast.com/blogs-and-stories/2009-07-20/the-mother-of-all-memoirists/?cid=tag:all1

Frey, you may remember, wrote a memoir called A Million Little Pieces. He got caught stretching the truth and had to go on Oprah and very publicly apologize for lying. I never got around to reading his book, but I remember thinking if he got in trouble for lying maybe McCourt was vulnerable on the same charge. But then I thought, who cares if they stretched the truth a little as long as the stories and writing were good? These aren't autobiographies, which in my mind are factual accounts of a person's life. They're memoirs, which are by my definition more impressionistic. If you still don't like that explanation, fine; call them first-person novels. Call them whatever you want. Isn't it enough that they're engaging and well-written? I don't care how factual they are.

The point of all this is that when I read I want to be entertained. If not, I'd read a text book or something clearly labeled "non-fiction." And for sheer entertainment, Frank McCourt was a great writer.