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Title: A thoroughly depressing, pretentious book.
Review: Given the cover recommendation by Frank McCourt, I was prepared to enjoy this autobiography. Yet, several pages into it I put it down and wasn't sure if I could start it again. I was determined to get through the book and finally managed to read it from cover to cover. Why, I don't know. Nuala O'Faolain is pretentious, obtuse and depressing. Pretentious in the continual references to her "famous" friends and lovers, obtuse in her literary references (many in Irish which she doesn't bother to at least paraphrase so those of us not fluent in this language can at least make an attempt to understand what point she is trying to make) and depressing in leading us through her love life, much of it conducted in an alcoholic stupor. Angela's Ashes illustrated an impoverished Irish childhood with clarity and a degree of humor. Nuala O'Faolain's impoverished Irish early adulthood made me want to through her bok through the window.
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