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on my top 5 list	Customer Rating:
One of my favorite books. I give it to someone every christmas. Perfect for "reluctant" readers- should be on curriculum in every Mass high school.

No place like Southie

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Every once in awhile a book comes along that affects me in a profound way. This is such a book. I laughed, I cried and I got angry. The characters came alive for me, proud of their heritage, with their self-identifying clothing brands, hairstyle and tattoo dot on the wrist, branding them forever as a "Southie" Amidst the poverty, the drugs, the fights, and the untimely deaths, there was still a sense of community. In a world where most of us hardly know our neighbors, Southie was a tribe of white Irish warriors where every outsider was perceived, and rightly so, as the enemy. It was never dull in Southie, for life was lived on the edge. As Ma laments years later after moving to the mountains of Colorado, "people here just don't know how to have fun". What a family, what a life, set in the background of an era that is now over and gone, there will never again be "no place like Southie".

no angela's ashes	Customer Rating:
i could not stand this book and did not finish it. it was poorly written and has probably gotten its good reviews from people who feel sorry for their poverty, but it is neither touching nor sympathetic. if chapters on hiding the boyfriends and the big color television from the government welfare worker appeal to you, you are in luck.

Here We Go Southie, Here We Go!

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The past few years there has been a bright spotlight shone upon the South Boston social and political climates that have forever given Southie the reputation of being a sort of rough and tumble sort of place. With movies such as The Departed glorifying and demonstrating to the rest of the world what exactly Southie was all about, the resurgence to try and understand what living in South Boston must have been like is perhaps stronger now than ever before. Though a textbook format could certainly provide readers with a sociological and psychological look at the factors that went into making South Boston perhaps one of the most volatile sections of the country, not everyone is always looking for the highfalutin academic approach to gain a glimpse into a society. Rather, what is too often not focused on is the personal stories of the area. Thanks to the work of Michael Patrick MacDonald, readers from across the globe can read a much more personal take on life in the South Boston projects, streets, hospitals and morgues. In 2000, MacDonald and Ballantine Books release All Souls: A Family Story from Southie . MacDonald, who grew up in the projects located in Old Colony in South Boston tells an amazing family story that is so far reaching that each page seems almost as unbelievable as the next. The MacDonald family, although perhaps never willing to admit it back in the day, did not have it easy. Though they may have been masked in their zeal for their homeland, South Boston, the realities that existed were perhaps only realized once a look back at Southie was taken by those members of the family that were fortunate enough to get out. The book tells remarkable story after story in which the trials and tribulations of the MacDonald family and the life and events taking place in the world around them in Southie. The family is perhaps the ideal capture of a family that has been through so much yet continues to remain strong. Certainly the societal factors so prevalent in South Boston such as drugs, poverty and Whitey Bulger affected this family as it did so many in Southie. However, the remarkable part is that the author faced with the tragedy of having to bury sibling after sibling and seeing both his family and friends suffer so much is capable of releasing such a well thought out and brilliant book. What remains true not just for the MacDonald family but also so many that grew up in South Boston during the mid to late 1900's is that despite all of the social evils taking place around them perhaps the unifying factor of being from Southie was all they needed to remain strong. When others might have crumbled or lost all hope, Southie residents and the MacDonald's in particular were able to time and time again pull themselves out of the gutter and move on in life. The book is written in a very methodical and organized way. The stories tell a sort of time-line approach to the life of MacDonald and how it interrelated to not just his family members but also the issues that Southie will forever be remembered for: the busing riots, the drug trade of the Irish underground and the fist fights on street corners that turned into an almost daily occurrence. What MacDonald does well in this book is not just tell a story, but rather allows the reader into the lives of those around him. Through an almost genealogical lens, MacDonald brings the reader into his family in a way that at times makes the reader forget that they have no idea of this family prior to turning to page one. All Souls is the perfect read for someone that is both familiar with Southie either because of geographic or historical relevance or for someone who has no idea about what South Boston and its residents were faced with. The book is an amazing account of what is right about South Boston when so much has been wrong about South Boston. Even when faced with amazing extenuating circumstances, what held South Boston together was families like the MacDonald's. Though certainly sullied by a few bad apples, the bunch is never ruined. Recommended: Yes

Irish whispers

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MacDonald characterizes himself as cursed with an "Irish whisper." That is, unable to keep the secrets he's entrusted with under wraps, blaring out what he should have kept hidden. This memoir of the 1970s through the 1990s, when Whitey Bulger's thugs replaced the anti-busing protests for media attention in South Boston, moves efficiently, with modest attention to Michael Patrick's own coming-of-age as contrasted with a fearsome family scenario of ten siblings, four of whom meet violent ends and three of whom die tragically. The one who survives might as well have died earlier; she survives a coma only to emerge a psychological and physical wreck. While this story often blurs the schooling, or lack of, that the author gained as he grew up in the midst of the anti-busing boycotts, and while you gain a stronger sense of the other members of his family rather than himself, this may be redressed in the new sequel, "Easter Rising." You get a less distinctive depiction of himself compared to his larger-than-life Ma and assorted brothers. Yet, the author appears here to deliberately focus upon his family and the violent milieu that boasts of its solidarity yet which poisons its very cohesion by such corruption on a moral level and a sociological scale. MacDonald redeems himself and his neighborhood as he grows up not only in body but in spirit, managing a buy-back gun program and learning to trust (a few perhaps) police. The same department who sought to imprison his brother, at thirteen, as Boston's youngest suspect: such maturity for the narrator emerges gradually and realistically. His story of how he survived Old Colony, absent of maudlin sentimentality or contrived cutesy anecdotes, reflects what in his acknowledgements appended he calls "every painful and personally redemptive sentence." (265) MacDonald manages to tell a story that could have been akin to the film "The Departed" or the HBO "Brotherhood," yet avoids ethnic cliche and predictably pat endings. The drama of abiding by the neighborhood code that forbids snitching but vowing to break that same omerta by seeking the culprits behind two of his brothers' deaths and the imprisonment of a third adds natural tension to this narrative. Yet, MacDonald sidesteps special pleading. Many of the memories he shares deserve repeating. For this review, three quick examples. First: the author accounts for the absence of a regular man in Ma's life as she cares for eight kids. "A man would only be abusive, tear at Ma's self-worth, and limit her mobility in life. Welfare could do all that 'and' pay for the groceries." (33). Her third (named) partner and second husband, Bob King, gets hit over the head by Ma with the wine bottle that made him drunk. When he comes to, she accuses him or stealing the "Christmas money" and he's sent off down Jamaica Ave. for the last time. Staggering down the street, to staunch his bleeding head, he holds what Michael Patrick fetched on his mother's orders: a Kotex pad. Ma herself gets shot randomly, through the living room window, by a teen high on Whitey's cocaine, just before the episode of "Dallas" comes on that she and all of America had been waiting for: "Who Shot J.R.?" Whether evoking the terror of his brother Davey's schizophrenia at Mass Mental, the fear of rats and roaches that infest the projects, the rage of the busing protests, the desperate schemes of his Ma to stay ahead of the authorities, or the conniving that infects both cops and criminals with the same lack of morality, MacDonald holds a calm eye for the telling detail and a cool pen to record what transpired. I look forward to his sequel, "Easter Rising." He keeps to the unadorned, if often witty, accounts of "street justice" that complicate his series of vivid incidents, recalled conversations, and local lore that add up to a poignant, yet honest, depiction of what it was to grow up in what was Southie, before gentrification, integration, and disintegration.