A very salty, wry, clever, and honest memoir. Not for everyone, but if you can look past the crusty language and behavior, it's extremely witty and engaging. What a life he lead. Definitely worth the read, but probably not for the more mild at heart.

Told in anecdotes rather than a fleshed out narrative, this is an autobiography of how an Irishman raised in poverty with an often absent and drunk father, becomes a self-centered, womanizing, occasionally criminal alcoholic who squanders most of the opportunities that come his way. Some of the vignettes are amusing, but the best writing comes at the end of the book. The exquisite two page prose encapsulates the deeper reflection I hoped to find in the rest of the story.

Malachy McCourt is Frank McCourt's brother (u know Angela's Ashes). It's very obvious that they are brothers. They've got the same kind of humor and attitude to life. And they are good storytellers too. But however, the truth is that it is Frank, the older brother, who is the real literary genius, Or then it's just that he writes about "more interesting things". Well, they both write about their own lives, and Malachy's surely is more unusual. Traveling around the world and smuggling gold... while Frank "only" became a high school teacher. Well, Malachy seams like an idiot sometimes, but still he manages to make me sympathize with him, even thou he really is just stupid. Malachy clearly is the tougher brother. But I do indeed like Frank more. All in all it was very interesting to read about Malachy's life. It gave an other view to the events in Frank's sequel to Angela's Ashes.

And the funniest thing is the title. It's from the catholic Hail Mary -prayer: "Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with Thee. Blessed art thou amongst women..." or like little Malachy misheard it "Blessed art thou, a monk swimming - Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the end. Amen. " I think this is hilarious! With such prayers I do see why the McCourts are what they are... "Fader vår, som är i himmelen, helgat vare ditt namn, tillkomme ditt rike..." Well, is that much better really? Well a bit, and at least I'm not an atheist even thou I rarely say it anymore.

Amusing.

Not quite sure why I bought this book in the first place (some 13 years ago...), I set to reading it in my quest to eliminate (i.e. read) as many unread books as possible from my shelf. Malachy McCourt (yes, Frank "Angela's Ashes" McCourt's brother) tells the story of his life from his early twenties, when he arrived in the USA with a few flashbacks to his childhood in Limerick. With no job and hardly any education, he rises from dockworker to barman to TV star und finally becomes a gold smuggler in order to earn enough money to spend on drink and women. The language is fun to read but why he relates these stories to a wider audience remains a mystery to me. The second half of the book - after the separation from his wife and mother of his two children - becomes extremely repetetive and the drinking stories have long ceased to be funny. Well, one down, a lot more to go... .

I don't know what to think of this book. On one hand, it's an easy and entertaining read. On the other hand, the are so many... problems with it. First off, I almost quit in the first 20 pages because I couldn't stand the deliberate misspellings, but eventually I got used to it. Second, M. McCourt was an total eejit, complete arse, and, in American terms, a piece of sh!t in his younger days. He stupidly married someone so he could sleep in the same room as her at his mother's house, and proceeds to abandon his children to commit serious international crimes and have sex with young poverty stricken girls, all while totally shit faced. There are loose links throughout the memoir to his father's alcoholism and abandonment of his family during his childhood. In some ways I want to feel sympathetic re: his daddy trauma, but I just can't because there's no excuse for being such a self centered asshole. Basically I read this book because I ran out of Frank McCourt books to read and the Times recently did a profile on Malachy, who, surprisingly, has yet to die of cirrhosis of the liver. I'm glad it only took me two days to read this.

Just not that interesting of a read. McCourt’s artistic use of the language gives it some color but this biography focuses on a period of his life (till about 30 years old) which is seemingly just the same story repeated over and over in different cities as he refused to take responsibility for his actions and never tried to make meaningful change. Yea, it sounds like he had fun drinking and whoring, so it’s hard to feel bad for him when he starts whinging about his wife leaving him. 2.5 stars IMO but I’m gonna actually round down

It isn't a quick read. You can only take so many stories from the neighborhood drunk in one sitting.

However, the storytelling is impeccable, and McCourt manages to present himself as the perfect antihero. His sarcasm is witty and poignant, he doesn't take himself too seriously, and he teaches the reader serious life lessons through humor and self-deprecation.

It's a good book and worth the read.

Too boastful and dull. I skipped and was uninterested at times.

I didn’t read the full book but read the reviews here and then went and read the last chapter and the epilogue. Just wanted to say that those portions at least are well worth reading, as some other reviewers have mentioned.

I can't remember when I read this, only that it was before 2001, and after I'd read Frank McCourt's Angela's Ashes, which, while I labeled an excellent read, was extremely DEPRESSING. Brother Malachy had the same upbringing, he's one of the brothers who was spared (I recall quite a few deaths in Angela's Ashes). But I recall this one to be filled with humor and optimism. And wit.

I absolutely loved this book. I found it in a used bookstore while on vacation. I'd read Angela's Ashes, 'Tis, and Teacher Man (and done book reports on the first two for school), so my eyes lit up when I saw another McCourt memoir. I was at the beach, and I had a desire for some light reading (to go with a Dubliners CD I'd just gotten), and this fit the bill 100%. It's a much lighter story than Angela's Ashes, being devoid of most of the grimmer bits. The difference in the writing style of the two brothers is immediately evident, though they share a similar taste for throwing dark humor at all the right points, a characteristic of Irish storytelling. Frank is the scholar of the two oldest McCourt brothers, and Malachy's memoir is far more action-based, describing visits with the Winston family, appearances on television, and trips to India. The narration is far more outgoing than his brother's style.