Malachy Sr. frequently references influential figures from Irish history and folklore, including Eamon de Valera, Michael Collins, Kevin Barry, the Red Branch Knights, and the “Fenian Men.” He’s keen to make his sons understand that their lives are part of a larger Irish cultural and historical narrative and to instil a sense of pride in them about it. While this works in some ways, in others it taints the stories of these figures with Malachy Sr.’s own stereotypically negative Irish history.
Malachy Sr. calls his sons “the Red Branch Knights,” after a group of legendary warriors from Irish folklore. He also fills their lives with stories of real Irish heroes, from Eamon de Valera, one of the early leaders of Ireland’s independence movement, to Kevin Barry, a very young soldier famously and tragically killed by the British in the Irish War of Independence. The allusions to historical figures connect the McCourts’ present-day struggles to the sacrifices made by past and present Irish heroes. They also place Malachy Sr. and his family within a legacy of Irish resilience and rebellion against British rule. By calling his sons “the Red Branch Knights,” Malachy is reinforcing the idea that they, too, are part of a noble Irish lineage. This comparison elevates their lives above the poverty they face, making the McCourt boys feel strong and important and suggesting that they can find dignity in their identity as Irishmen.
However, this pride and sense of legacy are tempered by the fact that Malachy Sr. tends to invoke these figures only when he’s extremely drunk. He comes home “singing Kevin Barry” for much of Frank’s childhood and wakes his sons up in the middle of the night to make them promise they’ll “die for Ireland.” Stories of Irish heroism and his lifelong disappointment with Malachy Sr. are therefore always tied together in Frank’s mind. Although Irish history is grand and noble, some of those legends only surface for Frank when accompanied by his father’s most shameful behaviors.
In this passage, McCourt makes allusions to the legendary Irish hero Cuchulain, explaining a key source of connection between Frank and his father. Malachy Sr., a great storyteller, recounts the story to Frank as follows:
I’ll change my name to Cuchulain, the Hound of Culain. He did. He guarded the house and regions beyond and became a great hero, the Hound of Ulster itself. Dad said he was a greater hero than Hercules or Achilles that the Greeks were always bragging about and he could take on King Arthur and all his knights [...] That’s my story. Dad can’t tell that story to Malachy or any other children down the hall. He finishes the story and lets me sip his tea. It’s bitter, but I’m happy there on his lap.
Cuchulain was a legendary figure also known as “the Hound of Ulster,” who is celebrated in Irish mythology as a fierce warrior of exemplary loyalty and skill. Malachy Sr. compares Cuchulain’s bravery and strength to that of figures like Hercules, Achilles, and King Arthur, telling Frank that Cuchulain was superior to these other well-known heroes. Frank loves this story and Malachy Sr. tells it to him often, as a way of bonding with his son and comforting him. The story of Cuchulain’s grand adventures is an escape from the poverty and struggle of Frank’s daily life. Frank says he thinks of Cuchulain as “his story,” aligning himself and Malachy Sr. specifically with the legendary “Hound of Ulster" in these few tender moments. Through this story, Frank gains a sense of empowerment and pride in his Irish identity. When he thinks about the hero Cuchulain, he can temporarily rise above the bleakness of his circumstances.
When Frank is stuck in the hospital with typhoid, he has a lot of time to read. Here, the author uses allusion and simile to convey Frank’s newfound fascination with Shakespeare, despite his limited understanding of the historical context of the plays the book refers to:
I do believe, induced by potent circumstances
That thou art mine enemy.
The history writer says this is what Catherine, who is a wife of Henry the Eighth, says to Cardinal Wolsey, who is trying to have her head cut off. I don’t know what it means and I don’t care because it’s Shakespeare and it’s like having jewels in my mouth when I say the words.
Here, Frank reads a passage explaining a scene from the Shakespeare play Henry VIII, describing an exchange between Catherine of Aragon, first wife of Henry VIII, and Cardinal Wolsey, a powerful advisor and her enemy. The allusion to Shakespeare brings English history into Frank’s world, though he’s been told regularly by his Irish nationalist father and teachers that English literature’s cultural significance holds little importance for him as an Irish child. Frank doesn’t understand the weight of Catherine’s confrontation with Wolsey or its place in starting the English Reformation, although it’s also an important moment in Anglo-Irish history. For Frank, the language matters more than the content, so much so that he declares he doesn’t care “because it’s Shakespeare.”
McCourt’s simile here compares Shakespeare’s words to “jewels” in Frank’s mouth. As Frank recites lines from Henry VIII over and over, he’s enjoying the rhythm and mouthfeel of the words without needing to understand them. By likening the words to “jewels,” Frank conveys a sense of their richness and beauty, as though each syllable sparkles on its own.