I have no idea why, but quite a while after the fact, and without being an actual victim of the fraud, that James Frey really chaps my ass. In fact, the more I think about him, and each time I think about him, I find myself getting angrier and angrier. Actually angry. My efforts over the last 5 minutes of very deep and thoughtful introspection (hey, at least it was an attempt!) to figure out why have been fruitless. So I'll just go with it--what the hell. It's my blog.
I was recently reading a review of James Frey's new novel which came out a month or so ago which gave the novel a positive review, calling Frey a "wildly talented storyteller" and commenting that the novel is "so powerful it makes one wonder why he ever detoured into nonfiction." Um. WHAT?????
I can't believe any respectable reviewer (although admittedly this reviewer works for People magazine, so maybe respectability is relative) can give this prick any positive support at all. Much less to call his prior work nonfiction after all we have learned.
What really makes me angry about this jerk, is that he could never admit it. He always said and still states that the differences between his published story and actual events were "minor changes" that any memoirist has ever right to make, and in fact, can't help making as they must rely on their own memories. AAARRRGGH!!!! I just want to slap him.
And now this idiot woman calls A Million Little Pieces nonfiction. Still. Didn't she get the memo? He was always just a powerful storyteller. Why can't the rest of us at least be clear and honest about that? Even if James Frey can't.