The Milli Vanillification of James Frey.
It begins. As noted by a comment on my previous post on the James Frey controversy, Random House has made an odd move for a company that "stand[s] in support"1 of Frey and his book: they are now offering refunds to disgruntled customers who bought A Million Little Pieces directly from the publisher, and telling others to seek a refund from the store at which it was purchased. I have no idea what Barnes & Noble policy is going to be regarding this2, but no matter what that policy ends up being, the potential for workplace amusement is extremely high.
The whole thing is turning into a comedy of mixed messages. Random House says they stand by their author, then they offer customers refunds. Frey, taking a page from the George W. Bush playbook, says he "won't dignify this bullshit with any sort of further response," but he's scheduled to discuss the controversy tonight on Larry King Live3. Random House claims it's standard policy for them to offer refunds, but those lovable scamps at Publisher's Weekly seem to think this is not only unusual but unprecedented. Now the publisher, astonishingly, is essentially saying it doesn't matter whether or not a book they published as non-fiction contains wild exaggerations and outright lies.
Random House's defense is so insipid that it truly blows my mind that it was released; when I read it, I thought, It must be utter chaos over there if this is the best they can do. As quoted in the Times, Random House tries to excuse Frey's alleged fabrications by asserting that "By definition, [memoir] is highly personal. In the case of Mr. Frey, we decided 'A Million Little Pieces' was his story, told in his own way, and he represented to us that his version of events was true to his recollections."
So Random House is asking us to swallow the notion that James Frey not only somehow remembered a minor drunk driving arrest resulting in about five hours in holding as a booze and crack-fueled free-for-all between him and the entire police force of a small Ohio town that almost got him three years of federal time, but also that a huge discrepancy like that falls under the umbrella of the acceptable "personal" slant that is to be expected from any memoir4.
This, to put it bluntly, is horseshit of the highest order.
While I discussed this whole brou-ha-ha with an acquaintance today, said acquaintance asked the question that has undoubtedly been asked all over the country in the last few days: "Why not just pretend it's fiction?" Random House can't be quite that direct, but "just pretend it's fiction" is what a statement like "recent accusations against him notwithstanding, the power of the overall reading experience is such that the book remains a deeply inspiring and redemptive story for millions of readers" amounts to. More doubletalk from a desperate Random House, then: a "personal history" that need not be either personal or historical to be inspiring.
Again, horseshit. The memoir genre is utterly inseparable from the notion that what you are reading is, at the very least, a reasonable version of actual events. Indeed, a book like A Million Little Pieces, or Kathryn Harrison's incest memoir The Kiss, draws a substantial amount of its power from the assumption of truthfulness. You don't get the same sense of inspiration from "I made up a bunch of really fucked up shit" that you get from "I experienced all this fucked up shit, it all actually happened and I survived it."
That, presumably, is why Frey and/or his publisher decided to present the book as non-fiction. I will greet any customers wishing to return A Million Little Pieces tomorrow with a smile on my face and a song in my voice.
1 As quoted here, sixth paragraph.
2 A BN representative told CNN that it is standard policy to offer refunds to customers, which is sort of true and sort of not.
3 If you love me, you'll give me some sort of play-by-play on this, as I don't have cable.
4 Also note that the phrase, "he represented to us that his version of events was true to his recollections" reads an awful lot like an acknowledgment that Frey lied to them.
The whole thing is turning into a comedy of mixed messages. Random House says they stand by their author, then they offer customers refunds. Frey, taking a page from the George W. Bush playbook, says he "won't dignify this bullshit with any sort of further response," but he's scheduled to discuss the controversy tonight on Larry King Live3. Random House claims it's standard policy for them to offer refunds, but those lovable scamps at Publisher's Weekly seem to think this is not only unusual but unprecedented. Now the publisher, astonishingly, is essentially saying it doesn't matter whether or not a book they published as non-fiction contains wild exaggerations and outright lies.
Random House's defense is so insipid that it truly blows my mind that it was released; when I read it, I thought, It must be utter chaos over there if this is the best they can do. As quoted in the Times, Random House tries to excuse Frey's alleged fabrications by asserting that "By definition, [memoir] is highly personal. In the case of Mr. Frey, we decided 'A Million Little Pieces' was his story, told in his own way, and he represented to us that his version of events was true to his recollections."
So Random House is asking us to swallow the notion that James Frey not only somehow remembered a minor drunk driving arrest resulting in about five hours in holding as a booze and crack-fueled free-for-all between him and the entire police force of a small Ohio town that almost got him three years of federal time, but also that a huge discrepancy like that falls under the umbrella of the acceptable "personal" slant that is to be expected from any memoir4.
This, to put it bluntly, is horseshit of the highest order.
While I discussed this whole brou-ha-ha with an acquaintance today, said acquaintance asked the question that has undoubtedly been asked all over the country in the last few days: "Why not just pretend it's fiction?" Random House can't be quite that direct, but "just pretend it's fiction" is what a statement like "recent accusations against him notwithstanding, the power of the overall reading experience is such that the book remains a deeply inspiring and redemptive story for millions of readers" amounts to. More doubletalk from a desperate Random House, then: a "personal history" that need not be either personal or historical to be inspiring.
Again, horseshit. The memoir genre is utterly inseparable from the notion that what you are reading is, at the very least, a reasonable version of actual events. Indeed, a book like A Million Little Pieces, or Kathryn Harrison's incest memoir The Kiss, draws a substantial amount of its power from the assumption of truthfulness. You don't get the same sense of inspiration from "I made up a bunch of really fucked up shit" that you get from "I experienced all this fucked up shit, it all actually happened and I survived it."
That, presumably, is why Frey and/or his publisher decided to present the book as non-fiction. I will greet any customers wishing to return A Million Little Pieces tomorrow with a smile on my face and a song in my voice.
1 As quoted here, sixth paragraph.
2 A BN representative told CNN that it is standard policy to offer refunds to customers, which is sort of true and sort of not.
3 If you love me, you'll give me some sort of play-by-play on this, as I don't have cable.
4 Also note that the phrase, "he represented to us that his version of events was true to his recollections" reads an awful lot like an acknowledgment that Frey lied to them.
posted by Dktr. Blasphemy at 6:45 PM
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