Monday, April 14, 2008

A Million Little Lies

I got an email from James Frey. Well, not personally, I'm sure. It was to announce his blog and new book Bright Shiny Morning. You remember this guy . . . ? He was Oprah's pick of the month or something with Million Little Pieces. An autobiographical story about himself, being an addict, and his road to recovery. My wife read it and, without passing judgement on her own judgement, really liked it and encouraged me to read it. Not really my cup of tea. Give me Edward Lee, Koontz, Sandford, James Patterson . . . but I decided to give it a try.

Early on in the book it deals with Jim (mind if I call you Jim?) going to the dentist to have work done. He got beat up, left for dead, put on a plane where he wakes up, and winds up in rehab thanks to his parents. He describes having root canals done without any novocaine and instead squeezes tennis balls until his finger nails crack and he passes out.

Yeah, right. I axed my wife after the first chapter . . . "you believe this?" He wasn't allowed any novocaine due to his past drug use and fears he might relapse.

Well, it turns out the book was one lie after another after another after another. He went on Oprah and admitted embellishing a bit. AFter subsequent investigations in to various components of his story we come to find out the whole thing is a huge lie. Yes, he was an addict. Yes, he went to rehab. That's about where similarities end. His dental experience, his arrest, the death of a girlfriend . . . all lies. He even lied about the cause of death of his girlfriend twice!

The book was entertaining. Once you got past some of the over the top-ness about it. As for all the lies . . . apparently he had shopped the book as a fiction story to begin with. No one would buy it so he decided to make it a true story. And just as with the news, no one bothered to check facts. Facts like Lilly's death which would be public record.

Hey, maybe he and algore could get together and write a book . . . A Million Little Incovenient Lies.

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