Monday, December 3, 2007

Frank McCourt Draws on His Mother's Memories for the Tender Angela and the Baby Jesus

One of the books that has been sitting on my shelf and my must-read list for a very long time is Angela's Ashes by Frank McCourt. My brother read it under duress and rather enjoyed it, though he found it a lot to slog through, especially since much of it would have been utterly dreary and depressing if not for McCourt's sparkling wit and exceptional skill as a storyteller. Unsure of how much family tragedy I can stomach in one narrative, I haven't braved the book yet, but when I saw that he had written a Christmas story about - and dedicated to - his mother, I was eager to lay eyes on it.

I gather from what Nathan has told me that it's often unclear to what extent McCourt is embellishing the truth. Obviously he didn't witness the events described in Angela and the Baby Jesus, since they happened when his mother was a little girl. No doubt he took a cherished family recollection and polished it up a bit, making it even more lustrous for the lucky readers. But the story seems plausible enough, and it certainly is touching.

The six-year-old Angela is depicted as a headstrong, compassionate girl. Because she is so little, she finds that her family members tend to ignore her, and she's counting on that happening when she takes it into her head to smuggle the statue of the baby Jesus home from St. Joseph's Church. She knows they will object to her taking Jesus away from His mother, away from the church full of parishioners, their eyes brimming with devotion. But stubborn Angela doesn't care. All that concerns her is keeping the infant warm.

As the story progresses, there are gentle chuckles to be had, particularly when Angela scolds the statue for wandering off during their journey home. But mostly, this is a tender story of kindness, charity, faith and family devotion. Rich with religious imagery and theological contemplation from the point of view of a young child, it inspires and entertains in exquisitely written prose.

The illustrations in this version are done by Raul Colon, whose painting style incorporates watercolor and colored pencil, with the result of soft pictures reminiscent of pointilism. For whatever reason, this is not the only edition of the book to have arrived on shelves in the past month. A small, square gift book-sized version - the "adult edition" - also exists and features fuzzy illustrations by Loren Long. Both artists complement the story nicely.

It's apparent in the story that as Angela worries about Jesus' well-being, she isn't exactly so well-off herself, but she does have a home and the love of her family, even her annoying older brother who threatens to expose her. In this hopeful Christmas story, that is more than enough.

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