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| Friday, January 13, 2006 01:36 PM |
| If you care about this sort of thing |
| by poppy |
There is an interesting editorial in The Australian re: James Frey and JT Leroy. If you do not know who they are, do not go read it, for I do not want to be responsible for introducing anyone to them. Come to think of it, if you do know who they are and like their work, you might not want to read it either. I myself am putting the controversy solidly in the category of "Things I Cannot Get Upset About," because frankly anyone reading a memoir and not taking it with a grain of salt deserves any earth-shattering that comes their way. The argument could be made that if you label something as "non-fiction" you are creating a contract of sorts with your audience, whereby it is your obligation to tell the truth at least most of the time. Of course, according to Oprah, the truth doesn't matter if the lies get you to where you're going. Or something like that.
For anyone terribly inclined to read more about these lurid deceptions, I suggest salon; there has been much ink spilled on these two, both before and after the Smoking Gun. For those of you who, like me, could not see the candy for the million little pieces (as it were), I leave you with this analysis from the aforementioned Australian oped:
"If you have actually read A Million Little Pieces, though, you can see the recipe for hubris oozing through the language, a penchant for self-worshipping edginess and machismo that already signals a somewhat one-eyed and inflated view of his world."
Indeed. I do not however agree that it is a riveting read, because it is poorly written, and I think you do a disservice to Bukowski by the comparison. But whatever. |
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