I finished this last week. Not as relentlessly depressing as Angela's Ashes but there's still enough "Black Irish" to make you cry every now and then; and enough honesty to make you laugh. McCourt is a brilliant storyteller. I particularly like how he does dialog as a stream of consciousness without quotes or attributions. You can see the back and forth between teacher and reluctant students, wife and drunken husband, army grunts and officers. Although I did get a bit tired of the sore eyes and bad teeth. I assume he had them fixed, but he used them metaphorically throughout the narrative to put himself in a pathetic light. But that is a small quibble. Highly recommend this book.