A Million Little Pieces

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A Million Little Pieces

  • ISBN13: 9781565117778
  • Condition: USED – LIKE NEW
  • Notes:

Product Description
A searing and controversial tale of drug and alcohol abuse and rehabilitation, told with the charismatic energy of Kesey’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and the revelatory power of Burroughs’ Junky.

By the time James Frey enters a drug and alcohol treatment facility, he has so painstakingly ravaged his body that the doctors are shocked he is still alive. Inside the clinic, he is surrounded by patients as troubled as he: a judge, a mobster, a ex- world-champion boxer, and a fragile ex- prostitute. To James, their friendship and advice seem stronger and truer than the clinic’s droning dogma of How to Recover.

James refuses to consider himself a victim of anything but his own terrible decisions. He insists on long-suffering sole accountability for the person he has been and the person he may become—which he feels runs counter to his counselor’s recipes for recovery. He must fight to survive on his own terms, for reasons close to his own heart. And he must battle the ever-tempting compound trip to nothingness.Amazon.com Review
From Doubleday & Attach Books

The controversy over James Frey’s A Million Small Pieces has caused serious concern at Doubleday and Attach Books. Recent interpretations of our previous statement notwithstanding, it is not the policy or stance of this company that it doesn’t matter whether a book sold as nonfiction is right. A nonfiction book should adhere to the facts as the leader knows them.

It is, but, Doubleday and Attach’s policy to stand with our authors when accusations are initially leveled against their work, and we continue to judge this is right and proper. A publisher’s relationship with an leader is based to an extent on trust. Mr. Frey’s repeated representations of the book’s accuracy, throughout publication and promotion, assured us that everything in it was right to his recollections. When the Smoking Gun report appeared, our first response, agreed that we were still learning the facts of the matter, was to support our leader. Since then, we have questioned him about the allegations and have sadly come to the realization that a number of facts have been altered and incidents blown up.

We bear a responsibility for what we publish, and make an apology to the reading public for any unintentional confusion surrounding the publication of A Million Small Pieces.


Note: The following editorial reviews were written before the above revelations by James Frey and the publisher.

Amazon.com
The electrifying opening of James Frey’s debut memoir, A Million Small Pieces, smash-cuts to the then 23-year-ancient leader on a Chicago-bound plane “covered with a colorful mixture of spit, snot, urine, vomit and blood.” Wanted by authorities in three states, lacking ID or any money, his face mangled and missing four front teeth, Frey is on a steep descent from a dark lengthy of drug abuse. His stunned family tree checks him into a famed Minnesota drug treatment center where a doctor promises “he will be dead within a few days” if he starts to use again, and where Frey spends two agonizing months of detox confronting “The Fury” head on:

I want a drink. I want fifty drinks. I want a bottle of the purest, strongest, most destructive, most poisonous alcohol on Planet. I want fifty bottles of it. I want crack, dirty and yellow and filled with formaldehyde. I want a pile of powder meth, five hundred hits of acid, a garbage bag filled with mushrooms, a tube of glue larger than a truck, a pool of gas large enough to drown in. I want something anything whatever but as much as I can.

One of the more upsetting sections is when Frey submits to major dental surgery lacking the benefit of anesthesia or painkillers (he fights the mind-blowing waves of “bayonet” pain by digging his fingers into two ancient tennis balls until his nails crack). His fellow patients include a hurt crack addict with whom Frey wades into an ill-fated relationship, a federal judge, a ex- championship boxer, and a mobster (who, upon his relief, throws a hilarious surf-and-turf bacchanal, perfect with pay-per-view boxing). In the book’s epilogue, when Frey ticks off a terse update on everyone, you can nearly hear the Jim Carroll Band’s brutal survivor’s lament “People Who Died” kicking in on the soundtrack of the inevitable film adaptation.

The rage-fueled memoir is kept in check by Frey’s cool, minimalist style. Like his steady mantra, “I am an Alcoholic and I am a drug Addict and I am a Criminal,” Frey’s use of repetition takes on a crisp, lyrical quality which lends itself to the surreal experience. The book could have benefited from being a bit leaner. Nearly 400 pages is a long time to spend under Frey’s influence, and the stylistic acrobatics (no quotation inscription, random capitalization, left-aligned text, wild paragraph breaks) may seem too self-conscious for some readers, but beyond the literary fireworks lurks a fierce debut. –Brad Thomas Parsons

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