James Frey: A Million Little Pieces

A day before the scandal broke I was aimlessly browsing through the Barnes & Noble a De Paul University. One cover especially intrigued me. On it was a clenched hand covered like a sticky donut or cupcake with little round multi-colored sprinkles. You know the kind—the ones that delight the eye but poison the soul. I began reading the 1st chapter of A Million Little Pieces, a “memoir” by James Frey. Before finishing the first page I became skeptical. The book begins with the protagonist covered in various body fluids waking up airborne sitting in a commercial airplane seat. Unless a flight is employed as and ambulance, I doubt that a bloody, visibly sick, James Frey would have been allowed passage. Airlines, bus lines cruise lines and passenger rail don’t like being sued when a seriously ill passenger dies or becomes much sicker en route.
I should know. I was once kicked off an Alaskan State ferry when I became sea sick, fainted and lost consciousness. As soon as I was ambulatory I was put ashore at Ketchikan. Hours later after being released from the hospital; I begged the cruise line to radio the ship to tell my traveling companions to wait for me at Haines. I then caught the next ferry to meet them.
But this little blog entry is not about me so I’m not going to write the rest of what happened to me in Alaska. What I wanted to write about was what in my opinion makes a good memoir. The two best that I’ve read are Manchild in the Promised Land by Claude Brown and Going to Extremes by Joe McGinniss. I don’t know how accurate these books are but I believed every word.