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All Souls: A Family Story from Southie
The anti-busing riots of 1974 forever changed Southie, Boston's working class Irish community, branding it as a violent, racist enclave. Michael Patrick MacDonald grew up in Southie's Old Colony housing project. He describes the way this world within a world felt to the troubled yet keenly gifted observer he was even as a "[as if] we were protected, as if the whole neighborhood was watching our backs for threats, watching for all the enemies we could never really define."
But the threats-poverty, drugs, a shadowy gangster world-were real. MacDonald lost four of his siblings to violence and poverty. All Souls is heart-breaking testimony to lives lost too early, and the story of how a place so filled with pain could still be "the best place in the world."
We meet Ma, Michael's mini-skirted, accordian-playing, usually single mother who cares for her children—there are eventually eleven—through a combination of high spirits and inspired "getting over." And there are Michael's older siblings—Davey, sweet artist-dreamer; Kevin, child genius of scam; and Frankie, Golden Gloves boxer and neighborhood hero—whose lives are high-wire acts played out in a world of poverty and pride.
But too soon Southie becomes a place controlled by resident gangster Whitey Bulger, later revealed to be an FBI informant even as he ran the drug culture that Southie supposedly never had. It was a world primed for the escalation of class violence-and then, with deadly and sickening inevitability, of racial violence that swirled around forced busing. MacDonald, eight years old when the riots hit, gives an explosive account of the asphalt warfare. He tells of feeling "part of it all, part of something bigger than I'd ever imagined, part of something that was on the national news every night."
Within a few years-a sequence laid out in All Souls with mesmerizing urgency-the neighborhood's collapse is echoed by the MacDonald family's tragedies. All but destroyed by grief and by the Southie code that
doesn't allow him to feel it, MacDonald gets out. His work as a peace activist, first in the all-Black neighborhoods of nearby Roxbury, then back to the Southie he can't help but love, is the powerfully redemptive close to a story that will leave readers utterly shaken and changed.
But the threats-poverty, drugs, a shadowy gangster world-were real. MacDonald lost four of his siblings to violence and poverty. All Souls is heart-breaking testimony to lives lost too early, and the story of how a place so filled with pain could still be "the best place in the world."
We meet Ma, Michael's mini-skirted, accordian-playing, usually single mother who cares for her children—there are eventually eleven—through a combination of high spirits and inspired "getting over." And there are Michael's older siblings—Davey, sweet artist-dreamer; Kevin, child genius of scam; and Frankie, Golden Gloves boxer and neighborhood hero—whose lives are high-wire acts played out in a world of poverty and pride.
But too soon Southie becomes a place controlled by resident gangster Whitey Bulger, later revealed to be an FBI informant even as he ran the drug culture that Southie supposedly never had. It was a world primed for the escalation of class violence-and then, with deadly and sickening inevitability, of racial violence that swirled around forced busing. MacDonald, eight years old when the riots hit, gives an explosive account of the asphalt warfare. He tells of feeling "part of it all, part of something bigger than I'd ever imagined, part of something that was on the national news every night."
Within a few years-a sequence laid out in All Souls with mesmerizing urgency-the neighborhood's collapse is echoed by the MacDonald family's tragedies. All but destroyed by grief and by the Southie code that
doesn't allow him to feel it, MacDonald gets out. His work as a peace activist, first in the all-Black neighborhoods of nearby Roxbury, then back to the Southie he can't help but love, is the powerfully redemptive close to a story that will leave readers utterly shaken and changed.
288 pages, Hardcover
First published September 25, 1999
467 people are currently reading
8646 people want to read
About the author
Michael Patrick MacDonald
7 books170 followersMichael Patrick MacDonald was born in Boston in 1966 and grew up in South Boston’s Old Colony housing project. He helped launch many of Boston’s anti violence initiatives, including gun-buyback programs and the South Boston Vigil Group which served to give voice to the survivors of violence and the drug trade in that neighborhood. He continues to work nationally with survivor families and young people in the anti-violence movement.
His first book, All Souls won the American Book Award. He is also the recipient of a New England Literary Lights Award, and the Myers Center Outstanding Book Award administered by the Myers Center for the Study of Bigotry and Human Rights in North America. His second book, the highly acclaimed memoir Easter Rising, was published in 2006. He has written guest columns for the Boston Globe and is currently writing the screenplay of All Souls for director Ron Shelton.
Michael has been awarded an Anne Cox Chambers Fellowship at the MacDowell Colony, a Bellagio Center Fellowship through the Rockefeller Foundation, and residencies at Blue Mountain Center and Djerassi Artist Residency Program.
He currently lives in Brooklyn, New York, and devotes all of his time to writing and public speaking on topics ranging from “Race and Class in America” to “Trauma, Healing, and Social Change.”
His first book, All Souls won the American Book Award. He is also the recipient of a New England Literary Lights Award, and the Myers Center Outstanding Book Award administered by the Myers Center for the Study of Bigotry and Human Rights in North America. His second book, the highly acclaimed memoir Easter Rising, was published in 2006. He has written guest columns for the Boston Globe and is currently writing the screenplay of All Souls for director Ron Shelton.
Michael has been awarded an Anne Cox Chambers Fellowship at the MacDowell Colony, a Bellagio Center Fellowship through the Rockefeller Foundation, and residencies at Blue Mountain Center and Djerassi Artist Residency Program.
He currently lives in Brooklyn, New York, and devotes all of his time to writing and public speaking on topics ranging from “Race and Class in America” to “Trauma, Healing, and Social Change.”
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 975 reviews
August 10, 2007
So many people told me I was going to love this book. Most of them were amazed that I had never read it, having taught at Boston Collegiate Charter School, which was founded in the late 90's as a response to the alarming death rate among Southie teens. Most of my Collegiate students were from Southie, and they had Southie pride, through and through. I think that, in many ways, we misunderstood each other -- and I did most of the misunderstanding. I had only an inkling of an idea why my students hesitated to welcome me into their community. Now that I have read All Souls, I am so much more aware of why we didn't click -- and much of that has to do with me not fully grasping what it means to grow up in Southie.
All Souls is the astounding memoir of Michael Patrick MacDonald, born in Southie in the late 60's. He tells his story in a style that is both conversational and intimate. MacDonald is candid about Southie and his upbringing. He reveals his family’s involvement in the race riots around busing, the drug and violence epidemic, and Whitey Bulger's mob. He also writes about the loss of four of his siblings to tragedies such as suicide and murder. MacDonald imbues his memoir with stark emotions: love, hate, pride, and shame. I found myself getting caught up in these emotions, empathizing with MacDonald every step of the way.
Everyone who recommended All Souls to me was right. I did love this book, and I cannot think of anyone who would not benefit from reading it.
All Souls is the astounding memoir of Michael Patrick MacDonald, born in Southie in the late 60's. He tells his story in a style that is both conversational and intimate. MacDonald is candid about Southie and his upbringing. He reveals his family’s involvement in the race riots around busing, the drug and violence epidemic, and Whitey Bulger's mob. He also writes about the loss of four of his siblings to tragedies such as suicide and murder. MacDonald imbues his memoir with stark emotions: love, hate, pride, and shame. I found myself getting caught up in these emotions, empathizing with MacDonald every step of the way.
Everyone who recommended All Souls to me was right. I did love this book, and I cannot think of anyone who would not benefit from reading it.
May 11, 2008
It actually took me quite awhile to finish this book. Not because it was bad, but because the stark reality of it was something that I found so emotional that I found myself feeling a bit lost. He wrote so emotionally about his family, giving the reader a glimpse into a world that most of us have could never imagine. But I found that I was relating my own life to those events that Mr. MacDonald experienced. I remember the busing problems in South Boston and the evolution of our generation. The first book I ever labeled a "keeper" was S.E. Hinton's The Outsiders. All Souls is going on my "keeper" shelf for the same reasons. Any book that can elicit that kind of emotion long after I've closed the book deserves that distinction. And my hat goes off to him for writing a book so honest.
October 7, 2015
I initially read this book when it came out, probably 10 years ago. After seeing the film Black Mass, I decided to listen to the audiobook. The book is very effectively narrated by the author. To hear this story in his voice, his soft Southie accent (an accent which is not always gentle), he tells the story of his family who survived (although several of his siblings did not) living in one of Southie's most notorious housing projects, Old Colony. This was a place that ambulances and fire trucks often refused to enter. MacDonald's mother, Helen, a first generation Irish American, is a heroine, not only to her children, but her neighborhood. MacDonald tells the story of poor urban whites, in a way that is never represented. Through his eyes, we see how residents got caught up in anti-busing violence, which was as much (and for some maybe more) about resisting lose of control over their neighborhood and choices, as it was about race. In Boston, often children who could have attended nearby schools that were integrated (such as the neighborhood of Jamaica Plain where I lived) were arbitrarily bused across the city. As a supporter of school integration, I saw this as a deliberate strategy to undermine school integration. MacDonald became a champion of ending gun violence and interracial cooperation. This is a must read for anyone interested in urban populations, education, and many other issues.
May 15, 2007
a sad, yet engrossing, memoir of a guy who grew up in southie (the poor irish neighborhood in south boston) during the busing riots of the 1970's. i've lived in the boston area for most of the past 6 1/2 years, but i really didn't know much about southie other than that it was poor, white, and not the best place to be after dark. one of the things i loved about this book was that it showed the community that exists behind and beyond that stereotype.
what this book really showed me was how a well-meaning liberal project, integrating the white southie school and the black roxbury school, helped destroy most of a generation of kids growing up in that neighborhood. the interracial violence led the kids to drop out of school and turn to drugs and crime for money and entertainment. macdonald's mother, and others, with no real racist feelings, fought violently against busing because it hurt her children and community. there were some who hated busing because they were racist, but to so many it was about being a social experiment that was doomed to fail.
macdonald lost four brothers to a combination of drugs, crime, mental illness, and inadequate medical care. his mother ended up moving to colorado to save her youngest boys from the same fate, and still ended up fighting to keep one out of jail after a visit back to the neighborhood. yet the most amazing thing about the story is the fact that he is back in the neighborhood, living there and working throughout boston as a community activist combating violence and drugs.
what this book really showed me was how a well-meaning liberal project, integrating the white southie school and the black roxbury school, helped destroy most of a generation of kids growing up in that neighborhood. the interracial violence led the kids to drop out of school and turn to drugs and crime for money and entertainment. macdonald's mother, and others, with no real racist feelings, fought violently against busing because it hurt her children and community. there were some who hated busing because they were racist, but to so many it was about being a social experiment that was doomed to fail.
macdonald lost four brothers to a combination of drugs, crime, mental illness, and inadequate medical care. his mother ended up moving to colorado to save her youngest boys from the same fate, and still ended up fighting to keep one out of jail after a visit back to the neighborhood. yet the most amazing thing about the story is the fact that he is back in the neighborhood, living there and working throughout boston as a community activist combating violence and drugs.
December 30, 2011
This book was a strange roller coaster. The first chapter had me riveted, then I slogged through subsequent chapters like a kid taking bitter medicine. I knew it was good for me but my soul felt like it had cramps. I learned a ton from this book about the complexities of the Southie identity, and the history of the busing movement in Boston, and the book's ending was fascinating (and redeeming). I cannot imagine having such a story to tell, and I appreciate that it has been told.
However, having recently read Geoffrey Canada's memoir on violence growing up in New York, I found MacDonald's memoir comparatively vapid, often expressing unexamined nostalgia for what were clearly challenging times both for him and for the neighborhood he profiles. He describes bitter racial tension with the wide eyed innocence of the child he was when busing began in Boston. Consistently referring to violent riots to prevent black kids from entering Southie schools as fun events may make sense in the context of a kid's experience, but in a memoir I wanted more reflection on how this is in fact deeply problematic and disturbing as a variety of community bonding. MacDonald has done great work to improve the lives of people of all races in a plethora of Boston neighborhoods, but he rarely brought any of this experience to the table as he wrote about his early days in Southie. My frustration with the author (both his writing - ok, it's a memoir, maybe not intended to be a work of Art - and his portrayal of complicated issues as relatively simple) mounted as the chapters wore on, and it wasn't until the trial of his younger brother that I started feeling the intense empathy for him and his neighborhood that I had started with at the beginning of the book.
I'd say read it, it's good for you. But be forewarned that it is not terribly well crafted or executed, even though some of the stories he tells are fascinating.
However, having recently read Geoffrey Canada's memoir on violence growing up in New York, I found MacDonald's memoir comparatively vapid, often expressing unexamined nostalgia for what were clearly challenging times both for him and for the neighborhood he profiles. He describes bitter racial tension with the wide eyed innocence of the child he was when busing began in Boston. Consistently referring to violent riots to prevent black kids from entering Southie schools as fun events may make sense in the context of a kid's experience, but in a memoir I wanted more reflection on how this is in fact deeply problematic and disturbing as a variety of community bonding. MacDonald has done great work to improve the lives of people of all races in a plethora of Boston neighborhoods, but he rarely brought any of this experience to the table as he wrote about his early days in Southie. My frustration with the author (both his writing - ok, it's a memoir, maybe not intended to be a work of Art - and his portrayal of complicated issues as relatively simple) mounted as the chapters wore on, and it wasn't until the trial of his younger brother that I started feeling the intense empathy for him and his neighborhood that I had started with at the beginning of the book.
I'd say read it, it's good for you. But be forewarned that it is not terribly well crafted or executed, even though some of the stories he tells are fascinating.
February 6, 2021
I’d love to read this with a group because, wow, I can just imagine the discussion. I actually vacillated between 2 and 4 stars by the time I started thinking about the review. The writing was really good, very straightforward and extremely honest. There were passages that sparkled.
But with a memoir it seems inevitable that I have to talk about the perspective. I don’t deny that poverty is to blame for virtually all violence and I don’t deny that it’s nearly impossible to pull oneself out of these kinds of dire circumstances. I also don’t believe that our lives are all just a matter of choice. I grew up in a coal mining town and saw that many really good people made really bad choices.
The author, however, crossed the line for me. I know he loves and wants to defend his family but I would have been more comfortable if he had been a little more balanced. His mother was a welfare recipient in involved with multiple men and birthed 11 kids. That isn’t JUST a fun-loving hell-raising mama. Maybe the author felt just by telling on her that he was presenting a real picture, but he wasn’t.
The passage about his brother and a group holding guns to the men driving the Wells Fargo truck when he “wanted nothing more than to get the family out of the projects”. Ugh. C’mon. I’m sure his brother had a good heart but he also made the choice on some level to live as a thug. He watches as a bunch of kids try to torture a raccoon and he can’t “control the feelings of joy” he gets from those moments, kids having the time of their lives. That’s sickening. Cocaine piled on a table for people, including his mother, to deal with a death and the author repeatedly says he wasn’t going to judge? Sorry, but it’s absolutely OK to say this is NOT a good thing, even if you understand how people make these choices.
But with a memoir it seems inevitable that I have to talk about the perspective. I don’t deny that poverty is to blame for virtually all violence and I don’t deny that it’s nearly impossible to pull oneself out of these kinds of dire circumstances. I also don’t believe that our lives are all just a matter of choice. I grew up in a coal mining town and saw that many really good people made really bad choices.
The author, however, crossed the line for me. I know he loves and wants to defend his family but I would have been more comfortable if he had been a little more balanced. His mother was a welfare recipient in involved with multiple men and birthed 11 kids. That isn’t JUST a fun-loving hell-raising mama. Maybe the author felt just by telling on her that he was presenting a real picture, but he wasn’t.
The passage about his brother and a group holding guns to the men driving the Wells Fargo truck when he “wanted nothing more than to get the family out of the projects”. Ugh. C’mon. I’m sure his brother had a good heart but he also made the choice on some level to live as a thug. He watches as a bunch of kids try to torture a raccoon and he can’t “control the feelings of joy” he gets from those moments, kids having the time of their lives. That’s sickening. Cocaine piled on a table for people, including his mother, to deal with a death and the author repeatedly says he wasn’t going to judge? Sorry, but it’s absolutely OK to say this is NOT a good thing, even if you understand how people make these choices.
April 5, 2021
Though I don't remember much about the contents of this story, it was published after Frank McCourt made a big splash in his numerous memoirs beginning with Angela's Ashes and the desperate poverty of being born at a time of near destitution as an Irish family.
I remember reading this and discussing its virtues with several friends, who also were immersed in the readings of McCourt (and I had also read several by James McBride, too). Around that same time, "Nickeled and Dimed: On (not) getting by in America" had also been published when we discussed these. I remembered wondering at the time, if it may have been a bit more popular had it not focused on white poverty at that point. It was also quite honest about the racial tensions in Boston during forced bussing and integration. Though it lacked the compelling emotional aspect story that McCourt spun, this was a worthwhile read. It shows how fear truly is a driving force in racial tension and how people equate change with being worse off. From that aspect alone, it was a worthwhile read.
I remember reading this and discussing its virtues with several friends, who also were immersed in the readings of McCourt (and I had also read several by James McBride, too). Around that same time, "Nickeled and Dimed: On (not) getting by in America" had also been published when we discussed these. I remembered wondering at the time, if it may have been a bit more popular had it not focused on white poverty at that point. It was also quite honest about the racial tensions in Boston during forced bussing and integration. Though it lacked the compelling emotional aspect story that McCourt spun, this was a worthwhile read. It shows how fear truly is a driving force in racial tension and how people equate change with being worse off. From that aspect alone, it was a worthwhile read.
April 20, 2015
I was born and raised in New England and I have heard at one point that Southie is pretty tough, but I never really cared enough to think about it. It was usually mentioned by guys that bragged about being from that area and I just don't find violence impressive.
I think it is great that Michael MacDonald overcame so many obstacles to have found a positive role in such an ugly place. He's well educated and an activist for safety in Boston suburbs.
While I'm all about anti violence I think people seem to miss the bigger picture when it comes to guns. Programs for people to relinquish possession of their weapons is not going to solve anything. We as citizens have the right to own firearms. The example given in the book related to gun violence was Tommy Viens. A teenaged boy was playing with a gun and accidentally shot himself. There are rarely parents around in situations like these. These kids grew up in a neighborhood where they didn't snitch on anyone, had their actions dictated by the Mafia of Whitey Bulger, and basically raised themselves. In the entirety of this book I couldn't find an instance where there was a completely reliable adult present. At all. Especially out of all the parents.
Michael seemed to be the only one who had maintained situational awareness and caught on to what was really going on. I also disagreed with other readers about what a good parent Helen King was. There were so many references in the story that made her out to be a completely shallow bimbo who believed her kids should raise each other. Her character infuriated me. She had two teenaged children that had already dropped out of school, younger kids that were abusing drugs with their friends in the apartment they all lived in and she was nowhere to be found.
Later on she lost three of her older children to suicide and violence. Helen King was so street smart, she wouldn't take no for an answer, and she stood up for her convictions, yet she couldn't get her kids out of Southie, such a dangerous and scary place, long before her youngest child became a teenager? Before another one of her children was murdered? Why, when she couldn't afford to feed or clothe her children, was she continuing to get pregnant? Her children were walking on the mattresses that they slept on thrown all over a floor, walking in to find their mother beating up a new boyfriend in self defense. Their apartment was infested with cockroaches, they didn't always have food, and she still wouldn't get a job.
I read this book for the political and social issues that South Boston experienced in the 60's and 70's; the forced busing, racism, and the Mafia ties. Instead I got one of the saddest, but not uncommon, stories I've read in a long time. A story about a bunch of children who needed guidance, support, love, and attention and clearly got the short end of the stick. I understand what poverty is, but I also know what people will do to avoid situations that these poor kids were exposed to. If Helen King put more effort into raising her children and looking at her situation logically, instead of focusing on her appearance, boyfriends, or her popularity among her peers then maybe her kids might have had a fighting chance at better lives.
I think it is great that Michael MacDonald overcame so many obstacles to have found a positive role in such an ugly place. He's well educated and an activist for safety in Boston suburbs.
While I'm all about anti violence I think people seem to miss the bigger picture when it comes to guns. Programs for people to relinquish possession of their weapons is not going to solve anything. We as citizens have the right to own firearms. The example given in the book related to gun violence was Tommy Viens. A teenaged boy was playing with a gun and accidentally shot himself. There are rarely parents around in situations like these. These kids grew up in a neighborhood where they didn't snitch on anyone, had their actions dictated by the Mafia of Whitey Bulger, and basically raised themselves. In the entirety of this book I couldn't find an instance where there was a completely reliable adult present. At all. Especially out of all the parents.
Michael seemed to be the only one who had maintained situational awareness and caught on to what was really going on. I also disagreed with other readers about what a good parent Helen King was. There were so many references in the story that made her out to be a completely shallow bimbo who believed her kids should raise each other. Her character infuriated me. She had two teenaged children that had already dropped out of school, younger kids that were abusing drugs with their friends in the apartment they all lived in and she was nowhere to be found.
Later on she lost three of her older children to suicide and violence. Helen King was so street smart, she wouldn't take no for an answer, and she stood up for her convictions, yet she couldn't get her kids out of Southie, such a dangerous and scary place, long before her youngest child became a teenager? Before another one of her children was murdered? Why, when she couldn't afford to feed or clothe her children, was she continuing to get pregnant? Her children were walking on the mattresses that they slept on thrown all over a floor, walking in to find their mother beating up a new boyfriend in self defense. Their apartment was infested with cockroaches, they didn't always have food, and she still wouldn't get a job.
I read this book for the political and social issues that South Boston experienced in the 60's and 70's; the forced busing, racism, and the Mafia ties. Instead I got one of the saddest, but not uncommon, stories I've read in a long time. A story about a bunch of children who needed guidance, support, love, and attention and clearly got the short end of the stick. I understand what poverty is, but I also know what people will do to avoid situations that these poor kids were exposed to. If Helen King put more effort into raising her children and looking at her situation logically, instead of focusing on her appearance, boyfriends, or her popularity among her peers then maybe her kids might have had a fighting chance at better lives.
August 5, 2009
This book made me realize that one of the reasons I like memoirs so much is that I enjoy reading about other people's lives and then being judgmental about all the things they are doing wrong. On the plus side, I liked the personal view on what was going on in urban Boston in the 1970s, especially the personal accounts of the busing riots. (I vaguely remember when that was in the news, and I was too young to quite get what it was all about.) The author is passionate about the neighborhood where he grew up -- in predominantly white, Irish, South Boston -- and he wants to fix what's wrong with it, but in the book he's not very clear about what he is proposing that would improve things. I was also suffering from a low-grade embarrassment through most of the book, as he is very detailed about all the ways his mother was so wonderful, and I couldn't tell if he realized his mother was a terrible parent. I realize that all parents, to some extent, are a mix ... I mean I wouldn't presume to tell him his mother was a terrible parent if he was writing a book about his very excellent mother, BUT I think he was writing a book about what was wrong, sociologically, with the larger neighborhood environment, and it seemed obvious to me (but not to him) that his mother exemplified a lot of the negative behaviors that contributed to the problems.
Grade: B
Recommended: Probably only if you have a particular interest in Boston history or urban housing issues, but if you DO, then it's a good read.
Grade: B
Recommended: Probably only if you have a particular interest in Boston history or urban housing issues, but if you DO, then it's a good read.
May 29, 2007
A very gripping and powerful memoir about MacDonald's experiences growing up in the Southie neighborhood of Boston in the 1970's. The neighborhood was one of the poorest in the nation and was the home of the Irish Mob and the school-bussing riots. Definitely an eye-opener!
July 22, 2011
This book completely blew me away. I rarely give anything 5 stars but there was no question in this case. This is the true story of a poor white Irish-American family living in the projects in Southie. The writer was the 9th of 11 children and came of age during the seventies, right in the middle of busing and forced integration of housing projects. His story is unquestionably the most frightening story of urban poverty I've ever read, only in part because it's a true story. The fear this family lived with every day are almost beyond comprehension - children dying on a regular basis, gang activity, gun violence in the streets, and much more.
Though I've lived in Boston since 1998, Southie is probably the neighborhood I know the least. But the history - the racial tensions during busing, Whitey Bulger as unofficial mayor of Southie - still influences much of Boston today in ways that felt familiar. The details of the story filled in a lot of historical gaps for me that really helped me understand my adopted hometown much better.
McDonald's writing style is clean and straightforward, and his story needs no embellishment. Though he did have family members involved with drugs, violence, and crime, he so clearly lays out the paths that led his brothers down these roads that it's almost impossible to imagine how they could have made different choices. And his mother's incredible strength and commitment to protecting her children in the face of some of the worst situations a mother can imagine is breathtaking. As a parent, I can only hope I would be as strong and steady for my children in the face of similar threats.
I'm having nightmares about some of the stories he told, but I couldn't put it down. I'm still wishing it wasn't over.
Though I've lived in Boston since 1998, Southie is probably the neighborhood I know the least. But the history - the racial tensions during busing, Whitey Bulger as unofficial mayor of Southie - still influences much of Boston today in ways that felt familiar. The details of the story filled in a lot of historical gaps for me that really helped me understand my adopted hometown much better.
McDonald's writing style is clean and straightforward, and his story needs no embellishment. Though he did have family members involved with drugs, violence, and crime, he so clearly lays out the paths that led his brothers down these roads that it's almost impossible to imagine how they could have made different choices. And his mother's incredible strength and commitment to protecting her children in the face of some of the worst situations a mother can imagine is breathtaking. As a parent, I can only hope I would be as strong and steady for my children in the face of similar threats.
I'm having nightmares about some of the stories he told, but I couldn't put it down. I'm still wishing it wasn't over.
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June 6, 2007If you are a person that lives in an area like Jamaica plain, Southie, Dorchester or hyde park, this is a good book for you to read. This book is about how life was around those places a while ago. At first when you look at the books cover, you will think you will not like it because it as pictures of little kids and you might think its about the life of some little kids. But once you read it, you will like it because its about how life was in those places before before and if you lie reading books youo could connect your self to, you wil like it even more. At that time you could have died just by walking down the street. Thats just horrifying. this book shares a powerful message of hope, renewal, and redemption. By reading this book you will learn a lot from it so i think everyone should try to read it if they want.
January 4, 2010
This is a gripping portrayal of a family living in the public housing projects of Boston, in the Irish neighborhood called Southie in the 1960s-1980s. Full of insight into the impact that poverty and violence has on the people in his life, Michael MacDonald paints a loving portrait of both his immediate family and his extended family, the community. Repeatedly describing his neighborhood as the best place on earth, he shines light into the corners of adversity and suffering. Drugs, gangs, and mental illness are examined as causes of as well as the result of misery. Without excuse, he looks at the race riots of the early 1970’s and tries to unravel the complex knot of feelings and misunderstandings that led to expressions of hatred. Ultimately this is a story of hope, showing the power of people to stand up to any challenges that are presented to them. MacDonald has become a community activist, fighting to save the positive spirit of the people of his neighborhood while also fighting against the violence and poverty that threatens to overwhelm them.
April 2, 2025
Somehow heartbreaking and heartwarming at the same time, MacDonald traces the Southie neighborhood in the Whitey Bulger era through the experience of his family. Ideal audiobook for me, riveting, Boston based, and well narrated. It makes me look at all the Irish and Italian “original” Bostonians around me with new eyes.
It reminded me a lot of Betty Smith’s A Tree Grows in Brooklyn with overlapping themes of urban poverty, strong neighborhoods, and immigrant family identity.
It reminded me a lot of Betty Smith’s A Tree Grows in Brooklyn with overlapping themes of urban poverty, strong neighborhoods, and immigrant family identity.
February 24, 2025
LITERALLY INSANE. Such an amazing book and beyond intersting. If u live in southie read it I can’t look at this place the same. Wish the chapters weren’t long but whatever.
July 19, 2021
In his book “Black Rednecks and White Liberals,” Thomas Sowell explains how black ghetto culture is traceable to redneck culture in the South, which in turn is traceable to the Scotch-Irish peasantry which settled the region. In “All Souls,” Michael Patrick MacDonald’s sociologically important memoir of growing up in South Boston, we get a vivid look at the type of “Shanty Irish” culture that has more in common with Compton than Connecticut. The setting is a gritty cityscape of gangsters, unwed mothers, wanton violence, drugs, suicide, and sadness. And all the faces are white.
Southie was a “world within a world” in the 1970’s and 80’s, when MacDonald grew up there with his ten siblings from three different absentee fathers. Their “Ma” was a fiery lass who played the Irish accordion in pubs and landed with her brood in the Old Colony housing project just before busing started.
Boston’s busing saga has often been oversimplified as a case of racist whites not wanting blacks in their neighborhoods. It’s a complex issue, but MacDonald’s eyewitness account goes a long way in explaining how it negatively affected just about everyone except the wealthy liberal whites who exempted themselves and their children from the experiment even as they pitted groups of poor people against each other. It’s a heartbreaking and infuriating account, expertly explained by this remarkable writer who lived through it.
MacDonald’s immigrant grandfather is a key figure, representing generations of Irish who struggled to replace the shanty ways with more elevated behaviors and attitudes. Through religion, work ethic, and relative sobriety, men like Grandpa formed a working class with plenty to be proud of. But the grip was tenuous; like many, “Ma” rebelled against the strict moral code and the shaming, dragging down her ancestors' efforts and ending up back in the literal shanty, where her children slept on bare mattresses surrounded by creeping cockroaches. Grandpa turned out to be right about most everything, including when he saw through the myths and hero worship to call out the Bulger brothers for who they really were.
Like busing, the Bulger reign is its own enormous sociological event that MacDonald experienced first hand, and we get perspective not found in the other books on the topic. Two of MacDonald’s young brothers died violent deaths while participating in the Southie underworld controlled by Whitey Bulger. One of the brothers, Frank MacDonald, was so interesting that an entire movie could be made around his character. Suffice to say, he was a boxer, and he embodied all the heroic and tragic elements of that profession. His death is a devastating liver punch to the family and to the reader.
But these were not the only siblings Michael lost to violence and poverty. The book is true tragedy in the Irish tradition. Like “Angela’s Ashes,” it’s heartbreaking but also funny, and the violence of Southie is tempered by the humanity, the sense of community, and the pride and loyalty these poor people had for their unique home.
Sen. Daniel Patrick Moynihan is never mentioned but he and his famous 1965 report loom rather large in this story. The Irish-American Democrat and sociologist’s dissection of ghetto culture as a symptom of familial breakdown is certainly illustrated in this book, and the two works pair naturally in their honest assessments of the welfare state.
Deep, heavy, and utterly authentic, this is a seminal work; enjoyable on multiple levels and highly instructive. Thank you, Michael Patrick MacDonald, for telling your family’s story.
Southie was a “world within a world” in the 1970’s and 80’s, when MacDonald grew up there with his ten siblings from three different absentee fathers. Their “Ma” was a fiery lass who played the Irish accordion in pubs and landed with her brood in the Old Colony housing project just before busing started.
Boston’s busing saga has often been oversimplified as a case of racist whites not wanting blacks in their neighborhoods. It’s a complex issue, but MacDonald’s eyewitness account goes a long way in explaining how it negatively affected just about everyone except the wealthy liberal whites who exempted themselves and their children from the experiment even as they pitted groups of poor people against each other. It’s a heartbreaking and infuriating account, expertly explained by this remarkable writer who lived through it.
MacDonald’s immigrant grandfather is a key figure, representing generations of Irish who struggled to replace the shanty ways with more elevated behaviors and attitudes. Through religion, work ethic, and relative sobriety, men like Grandpa formed a working class with plenty to be proud of. But the grip was tenuous; like many, “Ma” rebelled against the strict moral code and the shaming, dragging down her ancestors' efforts and ending up back in the literal shanty, where her children slept on bare mattresses surrounded by creeping cockroaches. Grandpa turned out to be right about most everything, including when he saw through the myths and hero worship to call out the Bulger brothers for who they really were.
Like busing, the Bulger reign is its own enormous sociological event that MacDonald experienced first hand, and we get perspective not found in the other books on the topic. Two of MacDonald’s young brothers died violent deaths while participating in the Southie underworld controlled by Whitey Bulger. One of the brothers, Frank MacDonald, was so interesting that an entire movie could be made around his character. Suffice to say, he was a boxer, and he embodied all the heroic and tragic elements of that profession. His death is a devastating liver punch to the family and to the reader.
But these were not the only siblings Michael lost to violence and poverty. The book is true tragedy in the Irish tradition. Like “Angela’s Ashes,” it’s heartbreaking but also funny, and the violence of Southie is tempered by the humanity, the sense of community, and the pride and loyalty these poor people had for their unique home.
Sen. Daniel Patrick Moynihan is never mentioned but he and his famous 1965 report loom rather large in this story. The Irish-American Democrat and sociologist’s dissection of ghetto culture as a symptom of familial breakdown is certainly illustrated in this book, and the two works pair naturally in their honest assessments of the welfare state.
Deep, heavy, and utterly authentic, this is a seminal work; enjoyable on multiple levels and highly instructive. Thank you, Michael Patrick MacDonald, for telling your family’s story.
May 23, 2010
This was one of those books that you ought to read if you are from South Boston ("Southie") and that you should read if you are not from Southie. A touching memoir, at times sad, horrific, and even traumatizing but ultimately leaving the reader with hope for the future.
I had to read this book for school so it was the first non-Chick Lit book I've read in a long while. As you mihgt imagine, what a change! It actually took me a little bit to get into this book; I think mostly because this book was so traumatic and heavy that it was almost difficult for me to want to read and hear about such tragedy. But the writer of this novel, a native of Southie, wrote so eloquently that I, like many who've read it before, was so drawn into the lives of his family that I quickly couldn't turn away from it.
There is one chapter in the book, especially, when it just doesn't seem like the trauma is going to end but sure enough Michael comes out on the other side full of hope and a plan to bring the community back to life. Higfhly recommended.
I had to read this book for school so it was the first non-Chick Lit book I've read in a long while. As you mihgt imagine, what a change! It actually took me a little bit to get into this book; I think mostly because this book was so traumatic and heavy that it was almost difficult for me to want to read and hear about such tragedy. But the writer of this novel, a native of Southie, wrote so eloquently that I, like many who've read it before, was so drawn into the lives of his family that I quickly couldn't turn away from it.
There is one chapter in the book, especially, when it just doesn't seem like the trauma is going to end but sure enough Michael comes out on the other side full of hope and a plan to bring the community back to life. Higfhly recommended.
February 19, 2024
this is for my US history class but this book was very difficult to read. going to school in boston ive been always told to avoid southie for my own safety but after reading this it definitely sheds light into a different form of struggle that pertains to a very specific subject + community. it is such a sad book but it shed light onto the world of boston and how its not just $$$ but poverty and drugs that have harmed the community i really wish boston wasnt so divided but its only getting worse w the gentrification this is a sad reflection 😭
March 1, 2019
WOW, first of all.
Trigger Warnings: Suicide, Drugs, Gangs, Mobs, Murder
You want to talk about violence, drugs, and death in Urban Cities, then you need to be talking about All Souls. Southie, an all Irish neighborhood in South Boston, is ran by a man whose name you've heard in conjunction with the FBI's Most Wanted List: Whitey Bulger. I had never heard his name before picking up this book. Early on in the book, I had completely underestimated his involvement, but one should never underestimate an Irish mob boss.
Full Disclosure: I read this for an English class. I think most of my enjoyment came from the fact that we were analyzing this from a literature standpoint, but I loved all of the autobiographies we read this semester. This book was one of three that we read, and it was the one that contained the most violence. It was the hardest one to get through, but it was the one most worth it.
If you follow the book, you'll go from day one where Southie is a mess to a day way overdue where it is finally getting its act together. The end, however, perpetuates the very beginning of the story. I'll let you get there to see why, and I hope there comes a day where towns like Southie are unique situations instead of an institutionalized norm. (See any article detailing low funding for schools in impoverished districts)
The most fascinating part of this story is that the issue went on for so long without anyone saying anything. Paramedics full on refused to go into Southie. Police only wanted to when absolutely necessary. At some point during reading all of this you ask yourself, "what is it going to take?" MacDonald offers his opinions on that. Information he was given as to why no one was helping, one issue being a lack in diversity. I won't offer my opinions on this because I don't know the whole truth. I was not in Southie during this time, and I was not fighting for the proper funding. MacDonald was, and he shares that side of the issue to.
So what gripped me? No one thing in particular, but the story as a whole. It represents everything I've been fighting and voting for in terms of real funding for schools. What happens when schools don't have that funding to start after school programs, utilize sports programs, or hire decent teachers? See Southie. Of course, the list is unfortunately endless. Every city has neighboring "ghettos" that are just like Southie. It isn't a unique situation.
When you read MacDonald's book, be careful to take it all in. Don't give up after the first few chapters, where the language is often unpleasant. Read his whole story because you'll be left without some of the details to form a full opinion. At the half way point, I thought this guy was cracked. It wasn't until the last quarter of the book where it all began to make sense. I had to put the book down several times because I was disturbed, but making it through to the end was worth it.
I honestly wasn't sure how to rate this book. I knew I liked it, I knew it moved me, and I knew it was completely crazy. It didn't feel like a full five-star book, so I cut it down a peg.
Trigger Warnings: Suicide, Drugs, Gangs, Mobs, Murder
You want to talk about violence, drugs, and death in Urban Cities, then you need to be talking about All Souls. Southie, an all Irish neighborhood in South Boston, is ran by a man whose name you've heard in conjunction with the FBI's Most Wanted List: Whitey Bulger. I had never heard his name before picking up this book. Early on in the book, I had completely underestimated his involvement, but one should never underestimate an Irish mob boss.
Full Disclosure: I read this for an English class. I think most of my enjoyment came from the fact that we were analyzing this from a literature standpoint, but I loved all of the autobiographies we read this semester. This book was one of three that we read, and it was the one that contained the most violence. It was the hardest one to get through, but it was the one most worth it.
If you follow the book, you'll go from day one where Southie is a mess to a day way overdue where it is finally getting its act together. The end, however, perpetuates the very beginning of the story. I'll let you get there to see why, and I hope there comes a day where towns like Southie are unique situations instead of an institutionalized norm. (See any article detailing low funding for schools in impoverished districts)
The most fascinating part of this story is that the issue went on for so long without anyone saying anything. Paramedics full on refused to go into Southie. Police only wanted to when absolutely necessary. At some point during reading all of this you ask yourself, "what is it going to take?" MacDonald offers his opinions on that. Information he was given as to why no one was helping, one issue being a lack in diversity. I won't offer my opinions on this because I don't know the whole truth. I was not in Southie during this time, and I was not fighting for the proper funding. MacDonald was, and he shares that side of the issue to.
So what gripped me? No one thing in particular, but the story as a whole. It represents everything I've been fighting and voting for in terms of real funding for schools. What happens when schools don't have that funding to start after school programs, utilize sports programs, or hire decent teachers? See Southie. Of course, the list is unfortunately endless. Every city has neighboring "ghettos" that are just like Southie. It isn't a unique situation.
When you read MacDonald's book, be careful to take it all in. Don't give up after the first few chapters, where the language is often unpleasant. Read his whole story because you'll be left without some of the details to form a full opinion. At the half way point, I thought this guy was cracked. It wasn't until the last quarter of the book where it all began to make sense. I had to put the book down several times because I was disturbed, but making it through to the end was worth it.
I honestly wasn't sure how to rate this book. I knew I liked it, I knew it moved me, and I knew it was completely crazy. It didn't feel like a full five-star book, so I cut it down a peg.
February 26, 2020
When I bought an ereader, I immediately stocked up on $3 ebooks.
The result is I picked up books that I might not otherwise. Looking back, I am glad I did. We should all push ourselves to read outside our normal box and if you follow me, then you know I stick to many similar books and genres.
So, it was good to pick this up. The book’s cover and title give no indication of what’s inside. Hardly, a feel good story- certainly more Lehane than Hallmark channel. I saw the tons of plaudits on the cover, as well as recommendations from people like Howard Zinn and Patti Smith.
It is interesting from a sociological angle. Here are these families in the South Boston projects who think they are in Mayberry. They feel fortunate that they do not have the crime associated with the Black projects and it’s the best place to live.
Which is ironic since South Boston in the Reagan era is overrun by drugs, murder and suicides. Still they feel pride, buoyed by people like Whitey Bulger who keeps the area clean from outside riff raff. All adhering you the code of protecting each other- which means “no snitching”.
The MacDonald family loses child after child, until Mom can’t take it anymore. The beginning of the book (and to a lesser extent, the end) is extremely powerful.
It is a good look at some societal attitudes. Southie fights against the well-intentioned liberals who don’t understand, and won’t, can’t or don’t know how to help. The Desegregation busing riots of the 70s play out here, and we are reminded that there are always two sides of a story.
While Southie has now since been gentrified, it reminded me of my red state hometown and how we are fighting the same battles. Just look at social media and how many people refer to themselves as ‘deplorables’. Things haven’t changed.
There’s a lot to relate to for poor small-town living. A pride and yearning. At the end, older Southie residents are still nostalgic for the days Whitey Bulger kept the place clean. But, we know what the reality was.
This one is memorable. It’s a fairly quick read and it’s quite powerful. A modern day classic that I saw on many bookshelves when I visited the Boston area recently myself.
The result is I picked up books that I might not otherwise. Looking back, I am glad I did. We should all push ourselves to read outside our normal box and if you follow me, then you know I stick to many similar books and genres.
So, it was good to pick this up. The book’s cover and title give no indication of what’s inside. Hardly, a feel good story- certainly more Lehane than Hallmark channel. I saw the tons of plaudits on the cover, as well as recommendations from people like Howard Zinn and Patti Smith.
It is interesting from a sociological angle. Here are these families in the South Boston projects who think they are in Mayberry. They feel fortunate that they do not have the crime associated with the Black projects and it’s the best place to live.
Which is ironic since South Boston in the Reagan era is overrun by drugs, murder and suicides. Still they feel pride, buoyed by people like Whitey Bulger who keeps the area clean from outside riff raff. All adhering you the code of protecting each other- which means “no snitching”.
The MacDonald family loses child after child, until Mom can’t take it anymore. The beginning of the book (and to a lesser extent, the end) is extremely powerful.
It is a good look at some societal attitudes. Southie fights against the well-intentioned liberals who don’t understand, and won’t, can’t or don’t know how to help. The Desegregation busing riots of the 70s play out here, and we are reminded that there are always two sides of a story.
While Southie has now since been gentrified, it reminded me of my red state hometown and how we are fighting the same battles. Just look at social media and how many people refer to themselves as ‘deplorables’. Things haven’t changed.
There’s a lot to relate to for poor small-town living. A pride and yearning. At the end, older Southie residents are still nostalgic for the days Whitey Bulger kept the place clean. But, we know what the reality was.
This one is memorable. It’s a fairly quick read and it’s quite powerful. A modern day classic that I saw on many bookshelves when I visited the Boston area recently myself.
August 6, 2019
I love autobiographies as no two lives are ever alike. Pride comes from within and Michael Patrick McDonald born in 1966 tells his tale of family roots, which run deep in the white poverty stricken terrain of South Boston known to all as “Southie”. Tough mothers ruled fatherless homes, while organized crime boss James “Whitey” Bulger Jr. (the same Bulger who in the 21st Century after publication of this book would become #2 on the FBI world most wanted list behind Osama bin Laden) ruled the welfare community. The drug infested atmosphere resembled a combat zone, as individuals early on learned survival techniques along with life’s simple pleasures. Government imposed interracial busing ignited protest chants of “Here we go Southie here we go!” which brought back memories of nightly news headlines.
McDonald’s personal story needed to be told. He can write and his humor shines throughout.
On a side note I grew up northwest of Boston in one of the most unique towns in Massachusetts 28 miles from the South Boston projects. The peaceful village that Thoreau once called: “City of the Woods” maintains mandatory minimum 2 acre zoning for homes and directly outside my back door was a 980 acre natural state park. In 1968 with a population of 2,500 the town received its first official police car and throughout my high school years there was so little crime that no police were on duty from 12 PM to 7 AM. I was fortunate and always grateful.
McDonald’s personal story needed to be told. He can write and his humor shines throughout.
On a side note I grew up northwest of Boston in one of the most unique towns in Massachusetts 28 miles from the South Boston projects. The peaceful village that Thoreau once called: “City of the Woods” maintains mandatory minimum 2 acre zoning for homes and directly outside my back door was a 980 acre natural state park. In 1968 with a population of 2,500 the town received its first official police car and throughout my high school years there was so little crime that no police were on duty from 12 PM to 7 AM. I was fortunate and always grateful.
January 29, 2025
Very vulnerable and raw look into the Boston experience circa the 1960s on. Eye opening for me even as a native Bostonian. Highly recommend
April 9, 2016
An engaging memoir focusing upon the author's life in the predominantly white Irish Catholic “Old Colony Housing Project” neighborhood of South Boston. 85% lived on welfare. The author was born in 1966. The book follows the family through the 70s to the middle 90s. We are told at the start that four of the family's eleven children will die. Living conditions in the area start out bad and get progressively worse. Initially focus is set on the virulent sentiment against compulsory school busing. W. Arthur Garrity Jr. of the United States District Court for the District of Massachusetts enforced a compulsory busing plan of students between predominantly white and black areas of the city. What follows are the busing riots of 1974 -1976. Crime, drugs, violence, racism and social injustices mount. All attempts at desegregation and integration are futile. We watch how this plays out in the family. We watch how the four children die and are told of the death of numerous acquaintances. The telling is grim.
I am glad I read the book. Previously I supported busing, naively assuming this must aid desegregation, but as it was done here in Boston it didn't. The book made vividly clear what life was like for the residents of the area.
I had a few problems with the book. I never came to understand the love the author felt for his neighborhood; this is an essential part of the book. There are court proceedings that are not clearly presented. Part of the problem here is that important events are not satisfactorily emphasized making events difficult to follow. You are left only with a general, fuzzy understanding of what exactly happened! The fate of family members is clearly told, yet the fates of numerous other acquaintances are only rapidly sketched. Through mentioning so many we are to understand the size and the gravity of the problem, but in that there are so many and each one's fate so summarily told they become mere numbers rather than breathing, living human beings the reader might feel empathy for. I found this unsatisfactory. Acronyms abound, and they are not defined the first time they are introduced. Frustrating to say the least. These are all small quibbles; I am glad I read the book.
The author reads his own book. It is clear, but at times too fast.
I am glad I read the book. Previously I supported busing, naively assuming this must aid desegregation, but as it was done here in Boston it didn't. The book made vividly clear what life was like for the residents of the area.
I had a few problems with the book. I never came to understand the love the author felt for his neighborhood; this is an essential part of the book. There are court proceedings that are not clearly presented. Part of the problem here is that important events are not satisfactorily emphasized making events difficult to follow. You are left only with a general, fuzzy understanding of what exactly happened! The fate of family members is clearly told, yet the fates of numerous other acquaintances are only rapidly sketched. Through mentioning so many we are to understand the size and the gravity of the problem, but in that there are so many and each one's fate so summarily told they become mere numbers rather than breathing, living human beings the reader might feel empathy for. I found this unsatisfactory. Acronyms abound, and they are not defined the first time they are introduced. Frustrating to say the least. These are all small quibbles; I am glad I read the book.
The author reads his own book. It is clear, but at times too fast.
February 8, 2014
"Even when we want to say their names, we sometimes get confused about who's dead and who's alive in my family." This sentence in the first paragraph hooked me.
The MacDonald family is gloriously dysfunctional, brought up by a single mother whose wisdom is matched only by her wildness. But MacDonald leaves us no doubt that his guitar-playing, man-loving mother loves her children, against all the odds of poverty and violence and failed romance.
This memoir is set in Southie, the community in Boston which was made famous during the initiation of the desegragation movement. The MacDonald children are caught up in the busing fiasco, and as the younger son, he sees through clear eyes the effect it has upon not only upon his siblings but upon the community. To MacDonald, it wasn't a matter of mixing unwilling races. It was a matter of tearing people out of their communities, both sides, and forcing children into a political upheaval that was so dangerous that many kids dropped out because school had become as risky an option as selling drugs on the streets.
The way MacDonald describes it, a whole generation in Southie was lost because some fools in power thought that the way to get equality was to force little children of both races out of their familiar streets and classrooms. He blames the misguided notions of ivy-league Liberals for the criminalizing of South Boston. Not having been there, I can't agree or disagree, but I always thought busing was a stupid and destructive idea. I get the idea of bringing children of different races together so that they have opportunity to know each other, of making sure that schools are properly equipped for learning and personal development; but forcing kids into strange schools on the other side of town, under the circumstances of those times, never made sense to me. MacDonald's book vividly describes just how senseless it appeared to him.
But the book isn't a rampage against society. It is the story of a family, told in a voice that is as loving and humorous as it is sad and regretful. By the time I finished the book, I almost wanted to have grown up in Southie. Almost.
The MacDonald family is gloriously dysfunctional, brought up by a single mother whose wisdom is matched only by her wildness. But MacDonald leaves us no doubt that his guitar-playing, man-loving mother loves her children, against all the odds of poverty and violence and failed romance.
This memoir is set in Southie, the community in Boston which was made famous during the initiation of the desegragation movement. The MacDonald children are caught up in the busing fiasco, and as the younger son, he sees through clear eyes the effect it has upon not only upon his siblings but upon the community. To MacDonald, it wasn't a matter of mixing unwilling races. It was a matter of tearing people out of their communities, both sides, and forcing children into a political upheaval that was so dangerous that many kids dropped out because school had become as risky an option as selling drugs on the streets.
The way MacDonald describes it, a whole generation in Southie was lost because some fools in power thought that the way to get equality was to force little children of both races out of their familiar streets and classrooms. He blames the misguided notions of ivy-league Liberals for the criminalizing of South Boston. Not having been there, I can't agree or disagree, but I always thought busing was a stupid and destructive idea. I get the idea of bringing children of different races together so that they have opportunity to know each other, of making sure that schools are properly equipped for learning and personal development; but forcing kids into strange schools on the other side of town, under the circumstances of those times, never made sense to me. MacDonald's book vividly describes just how senseless it appeared to him.
But the book isn't a rampage against society. It is the story of a family, told in a voice that is as loving and humorous as it is sad and regretful. By the time I finished the book, I almost wanted to have grown up in Southie. Almost.
August 12, 2015
It's a tough, mean story and not dissimilar to other public housing tales of large metropolis urban poor from my own experience in Marquette Park, Garfield Ridge, Ashburn areas of Chicago. And in nearly similar years, as well. It's told in a rather strange mood, IMHO, by Michael Patrick. But it does thoroughly grab your throat with the overall staggering loss and the ever present turmoil and chaos. It's his personal history. The story of his birth family- his Mother and 9 siblings.
There is a nearly frenetic quality to the telling. With a strange distance in the relaying- a sense of numbness in the voice. So it tends to play out within a jumpy prose style. Execution of this progression is as dire as the real life outcomes at points in this book. Yet in overall result? It tells more about the author himself, than the actual event record (biography list within the first pages) does. For me it did, anyway. And what it does say is telling. Trust in being safe or secure from the more powerful on the steps? Glibness or stealth rewarded? Dependable structure, kindness, physical safety, security to an everyday sameness? No, none of those things are givens in reality, not even within any possible perception outside of "Brady Bunch" T.V.
There is a nearly frenetic quality to the telling. With a strange distance in the relaying- a sense of numbness in the voice. So it tends to play out within a jumpy prose style. Execution of this progression is as dire as the real life outcomes at points in this book. Yet in overall result? It tells more about the author himself, than the actual event record (biography list within the first pages) does. For me it did, anyway. And what it does say is telling. Trust in being safe or secure from the more powerful on the steps? Glibness or stealth rewarded? Dependable structure, kindness, physical safety, security to an everyday sameness? No, none of those things are givens in reality, not even within any possible perception outside of "Brady Bunch" T.V.
July 18, 2008
I read this book twice and I'd read it again. This is a riveting true story written by a man who grew up in South Boston ("southie") during the turbulent busing years. MacDonald is a talented storyteller, who describes the tragedies, drama and pride of living in southie like no other. Having grown up in a nearby 'burb', I remember reading in the media all about the busing crisis and riots. But I never got an insider's view of what life was truly like in the projects.
This is a great read, will keep you up at night reading.
I recommend the sequel too,
Easter Rising: An Irish American Coming Up from Under.
This is a great read, will keep you up at night reading.
I recommend the sequel too,
Easter Rising: An Irish American Coming Up from Under.
January 24, 2009
This book was extremely shocking and pretty disturbing. I love the author's style of narrative and I found myself almost loving Southie, myself. I laughed, I cried, I wanted to throw the book at the wall, and I gawked at the wall sometimes. The way the author just came out and said things exactly as they were was very insightful. I would recommend this book to those who think that the worst of the ghetto neighborhoods are predominantly African American. I now that Southie should be ranked up there with the worst of America's neighborhoods, even if it's yuppie-ville now. Read it if you don't mind a fair amount of language and sketchy subject matter.
November 24, 2012
I liked the story, though most of it was tragic. I did not care as much for the writing style. It just seemed like it ran on and on without any (or many) pivotal moments. There were pivotal points in the author's life, but I didn't feel he necessarily captured or reflected on them in his writing. An interesting book.
September 13, 2014
This is the 3rd time I've read this. I love it: everytime I read it I get a little more from
It.
It.
July 15, 2013
MacDonald, an exemplary storyteller, expertly weaves his passion for social justice into a narrative about his childhood in Southie, creating a believable, emotional memoir.
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