Angela's Ashes

So my amigita favorita had the lovely idea that we, along with another chicita bonita should start a book club. [I'm the only non-ginger allowed, so back off! :)]

And so we read Angela's Ashes.

 

Not gonna lie. I legit picked this book up on a dollar day at the bookstore with no idea what it was about. I just looked at the cover and assumed it was a holocaust novel. My bad. So it was sitting in my pile-o-books-to-read when Nat suggested our book club and reading this. However, with the wedding and the moving and the honeymooning and the five other books I was reading, Angela's Ashes took a back burner. 

My first thought on finishing this book was that I clearly need to read Joyce again because I'm starting to think all Irishmen are the same.  But seriously.  Near the end of this really started to remind me of Portrait. Maybe Stephen Daedalus knew Frank McCourt? Okay I'm being ridiculous. 

My second thought was "Why is this book titled Angela's Ashes? I don't get it!" 

But I did enjoy this book. I didn't speed through it, but I did read it rather quickly. I do recommend this book. It also has a sequel, apparently, which is now going on my list.  

But really. Anyone know why a nice gent like McCourt would title his memoir with his mother's name?