There's a fabulous post here from Adrian McKinty, an Irish crime writer living in St Kilda, on the passing of Frank McCourt.
And another from Andrew Burke at Hi Spirits, probably the best thing I've read about McCourt all week:
The profile Andrew links to, by Malcolm Jones in Newsweek, finishes plaintively. I would have thought McCourt had earned his right to leave us, having survived to write his book 'that had to be written' and the acrimony that ensued, and lived fairly happily ever after to boot, but Jones thinks otherwise:
Update: Stuyvesant alumnus Elizabeth Kadetzky writes about McCourt's teaching days here at The Rumpus. And there is a video at NYU's website. Apparently a lot of McCourt's old students commented at a blog at The Times - but I've yet to find that link.