A friend of mine loaned me a copy of 'Tis by Frank McCourt. I hadn't read Angela's Ashes, but obviously I'd heard a lot about it.
For all sorts of reasons I was determined to not to like 'Tis. I was sure I'd hate it and that I'd find it a chore to read. I was wrong.
It was easy to read and about half way through it I said to myself, "Wow, this isn't bad. A few too many details about things I don't want to know, but overall I'm enjoying this". From what I'd read, I didn't like Frank McCourt, but that didn't mean I didn't enjoy his easy-to-read style or admire his ability to describe mundane happenings and things. I was ready to recommend the book.
Then I don't know what happened. The more I read the less I liked the book. I guess I was expecting to reach a point where he finally stopped whining about his life. I could accept that he had a hard time as a penniless immigrant, that he had to really struggle to get by day-to-day and to attend night school in order to become a teacher. But, once the book became more about his love life and his mother came back on the scene and he was disenchanted with teaching and ... I got fed up.
I finished the book - it was easy-to-read right to the end, but now I'm back reading A Tale of Two Utopias, which I'd only started before I took up 'Tis.
