Oh noes. Terrrible, really terrible news. I didn’t even know he was sick.
Frank McCourt, author of the Pulitzer Prize-winning 1996 memoir “Angela’s Ashes,” is on his deathbed, his brother Malachy McCourt said Thursday.
Of all his books, I had only read “Angela’s Ashes”. How he took his miserable and poverty-stricken childhood and turned it into a funny, inspiring memoir was testament to his talent. I wish I had the chance to meet him. Apparently, things aren’t looking too good.
ETA: Slate.com — How I wrote Angela’s Ashes:
I didn’t have to worry too much about consulting anyone, though I once—only once—mentioned what I was writing to my brother, Malachy. When the book was published in Ireland, I was denounced from hill, pulpit, and barstool. Certain citizens claimed I had disgraced the fair name of the city of Limerick, that I had attacked the church, that I had despoiled my mother’s name, and that if I returned to Limerick, I would surely be found hanging from a lamppost.