Still with my project (see the review, below, of Greg Malone’s You Better Watch Out) of reading through memoirs about growing up in St. John’s, Shirley Murphy’s Allan Square was another one that made me pause and read it all the way through rather than skimming. This was not because, as with Malone’s book, it was a such a well-constructed piece of literature. Murphy’s prose style is breezy, conversational, and anything but literary — but it is compelling and highly readable.
When this book was first published it caught my attention (though I didn’t read it at that time) because my husband also grew up on Allan Square in downtown St. John’s, albeit a couple of decades later than Shirley Murphy did. Pretty much any story of growing up in that neighbourhood is going to be a story of growing up in at least some degree of poverty, and in Murphy’s case that poverty was sometimes extreme during the years of the Depression and the Second World War. She is also pretty frank about describing her family dynamics, which ranged from neglectful to downright abusive. What kept me interested is that there’s no sense of “Oh, poor me, I survived a childhood of such hardship” in this memoir. Rather, the breezy and often funny tone seems to suggest, “Life on Allan Square was pretty awful a lot of the time, but that’s life, isn’t it?” Interwoven with perceptive and sometimes funny details of everyday life at the time, Murphy’s story was a surprise hit with me.