Memoir about growing up in Limerick, Ireland in the ’30s and ´40s in poverty and with a father drinking the little money the family has. Times are grim and stay grim and where other memoirs tend to go from grim to growth in the form of some sort of reflection throughout the story or at the end, this story is entirely in a sober first-person in-the-moment point of view without the use of quotation marks. The story's a bit rough around the edges and it makes me wonder if the follow-up on this memoir ‘Tis
offers any kind of reflection. Though maybe there's nothing to say about poverty. Perhaps it’s best to just show the way it was, in which this memoir succeeded.