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The Return of James Frey

As Oprah Winfrey counts down to her final show, she's been settling old scores with the likes of Jonathan Franzen, former talk show hosts, and other notable guests.

Only one of these memorable people, however, gets a two-episode spread:

That distinction (honor? not so much) goes to James Frey, the author of A Million Little Pieces, the memoir-turned-fiction-controversial-novel-of-the-decade and Oprah Book Club selection that turned the literary world on its head five years ago.

Watching the first part of the Winfrey/Frey interview, I was surprised at how many different feelings came over me, including nostalgia. I was a Creative Writing major in college when the "Million Pieces" scandal occurred, and I remember it instigating many heated discussions in my college classes.

Questions arose about writing, writers, and marketing what you write. Winfrey went from being a push-over who went on Larry King to defend James Frey to the leader of the mob holding a torch in each hand--depending on who you ask.

Then there were all the questions:

Was Frey a con artist or the victim? What IS the difference between a memoir and a book like To Kill a Mockingbird (a book that, by many accounts, has many factual elements yet is considered a novel)? Is it easier to sell a memoir, and if so, what does that say about the reading public?

I remember not feeling all that sorry for Frey, but worrying about my own career as a writer. I had no interest in writing memoirs, and I believed Frey when he said that nobody wanted to buy his book when he was trying to sell it as a work of fiction.

For those of you who haven't read A Million Little Pieces, it's a look into a man's addiction and redemption with many gory details. It's written sort of like an epic poem--most of it is in verse. So even though it weighs in at around two hundred pages, I got through it in about two and a half hours. In that way, it's a page-turner, but then again, some of the pages only have nine words on them.

As a memoir, it would be pretty astounding if only because of the events it depicts. As a work of imagination, it's severely lacking.

Realizing this gave me some hope that writing of merit might still be of value. Still, I wondered why someone writing a memoir might get a free pass when it comes to actually being able to write.

Part of me wonders if Frey was part of a wider, National problem dealing with how stringent we are with our ideas of "truth." Frey's scandal was occurring while people were still asking where those "Weapons of Mass Destruction" were. At the same time, reality television was more popular than ever. People were hungry for true, gripping stories, but they wanted to know that they were unequivocally true.

During the Winfrey interview, Frey said he wouldn't go into the discussion of what it means to write something or produce any kind of art or culture and have it be "true."

I think that's the real discussion we should have been having while we were lambasting a guy who just wanted to sell a book and got caught in the national spotlight.

If we're fascinated with the truth, shouldn't we realize that we can't dictate its parameters?

Shouldn't we realize that the more desensitized we become to violence, sex, and all the "gory details" the harder it's going to be to satisfy that urge we feel to hear the "real truth?"

I don't think Frey is a saint, but I do think he ended up being the scapegoat for a much bigger issue--almost a motto:

"Give Us the Truth...But Make It Entertaining."

Has that motto changed in the past five years?

Not that I can tell.

As for James Frey and A Million Little Pieces, I'd say skip it.

Read To Kill a Mockingbird instead.

It's a much better book.

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