James Frey was, for a while, one of the most famous non -fictional writers in America. And then someone checked the facts.
In 2005, Oprah Winfrey selected his memories “A Million Little Pieces” for his reading club, to learn shortly after he had made parts of his history on drug addiction and his stay in rehabilitation. She made Frey ashamed on national television for betraying the American public, and her publisher offered reimbursements. He was described as bad, fraud – and may have become the first man canceled this century.
“Did I lie?” Yup, ”he told me. “Did I also write a book that torn people in tatters?” Yeah.”
Today, lies are told with enthusiasm, while the facts are distorted and erased at the speed of tapping of the thumbs. Scroll a little on X, and the Frey affair could look like a horse and a buggy that was labeled to trot too quickly.
As Frey sees it, the public is more and more comfortable with lies, without getting comfortable with him. He finds all this a little absurd. “I’m just sitting in my castle and laughing,” he said.
This month, he tried a return in a way: he publishes a novel that focuses on a chess party and murder. He presents energetic sex scenes, rich shenanigans and eccentric punctuations. (Frey thinks that the quotes are inauthentic.)
He hopes that his past manufacturing, seen in the contemporary glare of the light of the iPhone, may not seem as offensive as they are. After all, the public recently reconsidered former outsets for worse.
