There’s a huge stink

in the air about James Frey’s A Million Little Pieces and the fact that although it is being marketed as a memoir, which many people assume is a synonym for “autobiography”, Frey seems to have taken some liberties with the “truth”. However, when the book was first published, the following appeared in an interview with Frey:

Speaking of memoirs, are there any autobiographies or memoirs that you’re particularly fond of?
I love Charles Baudelaire. I love Celine and Henry Miller. I love Charles Bukowski and Pat Conroy and Tim O’Brien and Brett Easton Ellis. None of these guys actually wrote memoirs, but they all wrote about themselves. Though I used my real name, I consider my work in the same tradition.

I think if people are upset, they should be upset at the marketing people who convinced Frey to play along with this “nonfiction” business. They’ve likely screwed up his long-term career. On the other hand, he has seemed quite eager to play along – I don’t think anyone has put anything over on the guy.