Ma, He Sold Me for a Few Cigarettes

Starred review from September 3, 2012
Bestselling memoirist Long (Ma, I've Got Meself Locked Up in the Mad House) takes readers to 1950s Dublin, where it is nothing short of a miracle that she survived her childhood. Long chronicles her life from ages three to 11, letting the child she once was "tell the story in her own voice:" a dynamic, colorful Irish dialect. Born to a destitute teenage mother, Long endures shocking privation and abuse, particularly at the hands of her mother's lascivious long-term boyfriend, who does indeed sell her for a few cigarettes. Trapped by her circumstances, Long must care for a growing brood of siblings, and though barely educated she finds ingenious ways to provide for her family. A penny candy, a broken roller-skate, a meal from a stranger: small treasures and kindnesses, though rare, give Long the strength she needs to hope for a better future. Her tale can be repetitive, but the repetition aptly mirrors the punishing cycle of poverty. Not for the faint of heart, Long's story is a gritty, grueling, and heartbreaking testament to one girl's unbreakable spirit.

August 1, 2012
The story of a poverty-stricken young girl growing up broke--but not broken--in 1950s Dublin. In the first of four volumes, Long lays the groundwork for the tale of her lifetime of hardships. Just 4 years old at the start of the book, the author had to grow up fast in the extreme poverty that engulfed her. Born to a teenage mother whose primary talent seemed to be childbearing, Long was forced to do anything she could to survive, including drinking milk from a sibling's bottle. "Me Ma doesn't give me anthin te eat these days," she writes, "so I share the babby's bottle wit him." These desperate acts are continually on display throughout the book, and they are made most apparent on the day of Long's first Communion, when she was told to fast until after receiving the Lord. "I don't want Holy God," she wailed, "I want a bit of bread." Yet poverty was but one of many struggles Long faced. The other main one, her cruel-hearted stepfather, Jackser, proved the more complicated of the two. In a particularly horrific scene, Jackser demonstrates his villainy by dangling Long's baby brother over a bannister to show his resentment at having to take in another man's children. After much pleading, Jackser relented. "Here, take it," he grumbles, handing the baby over to its mother. "An count yerself lucky he's not splattered in the hall." Yet Long knows little of luck, and her book demonstrates her impressive determination and perseverance. Coming-of-age hardships skillfully recounted by way of the colloquial Irish tongue.

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