Frauds and Victims of Frauds

James Frey mug shotUnless you’ve been living in a hole somewhere, you’ve probably caught wind of the fact that a very fine blog, The Smoking Gun, has published a devastatingly detailed exposé of the lies that fill James Frey’s bestselling book “A Million Little Pieces”. The Smoking Gun’s investigation, titled “A Million Little Lies”, is a fascinating read. But the most amazing thing about the affair is that Doubleday, the book’s publisher, is essentially dismissing the exposure as no big deal. Memoirs are like that, they seem to be claiming; a memoirist can take a few liberties. All that matters is that the book is a gripping read with a powerful emotional message. But Frey has taken more than a few liberties. He has apparently lied about everything of substance in the book (I have not read it). And now Seth Mnookin has done an excellent job of explaining why the lies matter. It is a big deal after all.

Unfortunately, because A Million Little Pieces—one of the best-selling books about drug addiction ever written—has been trumpeted as an unflinching, real-life look into the world of a drug addict, it has helped to shape people’s notions about drug abuse. Ironically, the very abundance of its clichés has likely helped make it a runaway best seller: People, after all, like having their suspicions confirmed. For nonaddicts, Pieces reinforces the still dangerously prevalent notion that it’s easy to spot a drug addict or an alcoholic—they’re the ones bleeding from holes in their cheeks or getting beaten down by the police or doing hard time with killers and rapists. For those struggling with their own substance-abuse issues, Pieces sends the message that unless you’ve reached the depths Frey describes, you don’t have anything to worry about—you’re a Fraud. And if you do have a problem, you don’t need to necessarily get treatment or look to others for support; all you need to do is "hold on." In building up a false bogeyman—the American recovery movement’s supposed reliance on the notion of "victimhood"—Frey has set himself up as the one, truth-telling savior. In fact, it seems clear that Frey would have been well-served by taking the kind of unflinchingly honest look at his own life that most recovery programs demand.