Customer Reviews

A Monk Swimming

5 star:		(44)
4 star:		(36)
3 star:		(23)
2 star:		(28)
1 star:		(77)

 

 

While many have made the mistake of comparing Malachy McCourt's adult memoir, A MONK SWIMMING, to his brother Frank's more tragic childhood recount in the Pulitzer Prize-winning ANGELA'S ASHES, I preferred reading the book on a completely separate level. As this younger brother's memoir is in a sense a continuation of the McCourt saga, which picks up from a different perspective on the hopeful ending of ASHES, it is a story of a different time, place and person, bereft of most of the second-hand misery that accompanied the 362 pages of Frank's heart-wrentching tale.

The character worries of ANGELA'S ASHES included surviving famine, tuburculosis and the general abominations of poverty. A MONK SWIMMING grapples mainly with the issues of managing an acting sometime career, excessive pubbing and sordid sexual conquests and the more literarily comical debacles derived from such.

Lacking the degree of drama, this book has perhaps been thought of as a disappointment in the wake of its seeming predecessor. Yet judged on its own merits and intentions, A MONK SWIMMING is a terrific piece altogether, told with all the heart and lilt that apparently runs strong in the McCourt clan. Malachy chronicles the charming, wily escapades of an unapologetic drunk--himself--in this, a story about an Irish immigrant living (and occasionally thriving) in America. His wit and style are a wonderful amalgam of Irish irony and lyricism with New York abrasiveness and sophistication.

There IS a tragic element to this narrative, however, in that Malachy proves to be much like his wretch of a father (for whom he was conveniently named), a man who oftentimes put the bottle before the family. In that there is a contrite quality to his descriptions of certain events, such as losing his first wife and not being allowed to see his children for a time. This adds reality and cynicism to an otherwise humorous bio that appears as the anecdotes progress through Malachy's evolvement as, dare I say, more American than Irish.

A MONK SWIMMING ought to be viewed and enjoyed for what it is: a genuine, tipsy romp, as clever and raucous as its author. It is not another ANGELA'S ASHES nor, rest assured, was it ever purported to be.

In "A Monk Swimming," Malachy McCourt recounts stories of his less-than-mature response to his awful childhood. His brother Frank, on the other hand, gives us a more refined, crafted, and artistic story. Both versions are worth reading. It's interesting to see how two related people emerged so differently from the same circumstances.

I like that Malachy McCourt gives no excuses for his behavior. He's a pretty objective recorder of his exploits; he doesn't pretty them up. He admits he drank too much, abandoned his wife and kids, and searched for some peace (unsuccessfully) through sex. He doesn't glorify himself; at the end, I was left with sadness. He closes with a description of his father and the pain of that relationship. This final chapter is the explanation (though not an excuse) for the rest of the exploits in the book.

Frank McCourt is the philosopher while Malachy is the bad kid who has no qualms about telling it like it is. When I read Malachy's version of McCourt history, I thought, 'Ok, poverty is not some romantic world where everyone ends up spouting gorgeous poetry and coming to terms with their past.' Malachy has humor, audacity, and a flare for hyperbole - all these the qualities of a good Irish storyteller. These are stories I could imagine hearing while sitting a bar - stories that are enlarged and enhanced upon each telling. Malachy clearly captures a time and place and a character (himself). Some might not like who he is, but he provides a vivid picture of who he is. He captures, by recounting his escapades, his own tortured response to his childhood.

Few people can hope to experience the fun & wild times of Malachy McCourt, in spite of his underpriveleged up-bringing. His life would have been interesting enough, but his literary style is exciting, making it difficult to put the book down. His colorful descriptions put you right there with him. When he's drunk, you feel drunk; when he describes the filth and stench of a public restroom in India, you can see & smell it. Malachy McCourt takes you on a wild ride through his life, and makes you wonder whether you've done enough in your own life.

Being half Irish myself, I'm pretty sick of seeing the Irish portrayed as drunken louts. So imagine how surprised I was to find that the loveable little Malachy I read about in Angela's Ashes had come to America as a teen and become a drunken troublemaker.

The book lovingly recounts McCourt's many (VERY MANY) drunken rampages through New York, Ireland, Calcutta (Smuggling Gold), and London, drinking, whoring, and making trouble in stereotypical fashion. I didn't take long for me to start hating Malachy; Watching him float through life, mooching off of others, never doing an honest day's work, drinking up other people's money...it was sickening. But compelling. It was tough to see him repeating the mistakes of his Father.

But....he does tell a good story, and he had an unusual life, that's for sure. There are some funny moments, and overall, despite my distaste for him as a person, the book is worth reading for people who are interested in the McCourt Family.

After being so impressed with Frank McCourt's Angela's Ashes, I bought Malachy's novel and soon realized good storytelling is not a genetic family trait. This book is all about how often he was drunk (everyday), how he was a horrible husband and father just like his own father, and his bragging about how many women he's slept with. There is nothing endearing about Malachy, and I found myself continuing to read believing it eventually HAD to get better, but it never did. I think Malachy took advantage of his brother's good fortune and wanted a piece, but any reader will be extremely let down. I would not recommend this book to a soul.

I enjoyed this book and feel that it should be given consideration for being a story about Malachy McCourt, not the story of Frank McCourt's brother. I have read a few reviews that belittle the book for not being on the same level as Frank's book. Well this is true but that is because it is written by a character driven man who enjoys telling stories. His life has been transformed into a series of stories and from that this book have arisen. I found it interesting to learn about how society was forty-odd years ago. There were many diferences, yet many problems which stem from similar situations found in today's society. I liked the book and am eager to discover how Malachly's next phase of life was lived.

I am really shocked to read the other reviews of this book. Most of you are judging the PERSON in the story, NOT the actual book. I think that it speaks a lot for the author that people were so moved, even if to hatred, by his words and his story. If I were Malachy I would delight in these strong responses! And please, PLEASE remember, this is NOT supposed to be Angela's Ashes. How awful it is to be constantly compared to your sibling by complete strangers who think they know it all!!

Read the book for yourselves rather than basing your opinion on all of ours! Take it out of your library if you're afraid of wasting money!

I enjoyed Malachy's book, and found him most amusing. Though, his way of life angered me, due the fact that he carried on the terrible habits of his father. If you have read Frank McCourt's book "Angela's Ashes" and felt the same attachment to the McCourt Family as I did when I started reading this book, you will find yourself yelling at the book and praying for the day (or page if I may) Malachy will change his ways. This book is definitely for the mature reader, because nothing is hidden from the reader in the way of love life, work, or illegal activity. If you're unable to find humor in life's many misfortunes, and relate to the antics of a man battling his moral conscious then this book is probably not for you. The level of descriptive language within the pages of "A Monk Swimming" will keep you captivated, and your emotions running high. Though disappointed in the fact that Malachy couldn't do much to improve on his corrupted emotional state, I still enjoyed the book for richness of its contents.

Malachy, brother of Frank, as he may so eagerly be known now, is in no way a shadow of his sibling. Malachy tells the story of HIS life, an approach to his early days in America which surprisingly but pleasantly differs from his brothers'. I followed this man through his countless journeys into bars and parties, all the while noting his very famous friends. Not only does this book show us the inner workings of Malachy himself, but gives us grounds and context to the lives of many influential people still revered today.

Telling everything, and stopping at nothing, McCourt erases the line between obscenity and necessity. Every play on words made me laugh, and I felt every bit of anxiety. McCourt tells us in perfect detail his hobnobbings with the famous, and his flirtings with alcoholism, crime, and sex, in this wonderful tale of someone who found that the feeling of fame is strikingly different from the feeling of acceptance.

Let's face it... the only reason you'd look into reading this book is if you have already read and enjoyed Angela's Ashes. Well, don't bother. If there was some story line buried between the covers of this book, I never found it. I'm still wondering why I forced myself to read the whole thing! How anyone could think that name dropping, drinking and being a bad father and husband is great reading is beyond me.