Those of you that know me have heard me talk about and have seen me write about the two books written by James Frey, "A Million Little Pieces" and "My Friend Leonard." You know that I enjoyed both books and have recommended them both to anyone willing to listen. Between then and now, Frey has been called to the carpet in regards to the "truthiness" (thank you Mr. Colbert) of certain aspects of each book. This seems to have culminated in Frey's return to Oprah's couch yesterday where he endured a verbal beat down from his one-time supporter.
Now I know my share of Shaker Heights based kids that had fucked up upbringings and have spent their time battling various demons (hi Josh!). Some of these kids even went to the same grade school as Frey (Josh, hello again, and you too K-Bird!). So, as I was reading "Pieces" I kept telling my mom that I couldn't believe that all of his stories about rehab were completely true. Oddly enough, I also know a few folks that attended Hazelden (what's up xxxxx!). A lot of the things Frey says happened there just would not have gone down that way. I am in no way doubting that Frey had a drinking and drug problem, rather that things happened the way they did or to the extent that they did.
I knew that Frey was a screen writer before penning these two memoirs so he is no stranger to fiction. I also know he pitched "Pieces" as a novel and was turned down by 19 publishers before Nan Talese suggested he write it as a memoir. That being said, my only disappointment is in how Frey addressed the situation he found himself in last week when all this came to a head. Before seeing him on Larry King I had never heard the cat speak. I only knew him from his description of himself in his books and based on the photos I've seen on his dust covers. I expected a guy with a pretty pissed off demeanor; after all, the fury had to still be in him somewhere, right? Nope. What I heard was a guy who sounded pretty reserved, slightly effeminate even in his delivery. Hey, no problem, just address this shit head on, I thought. Nope, he backpedaled, hemmed and hawed his way through a pretty shaky explanation. Oh well, I thought, your image is blown but you're still gonna sell a million more books. Good for you.
Well, good for him until he went on Oprah yesterday. She blasted him, Talese, everyone as his backpedaling continued. If I were in crisis management (maybe I should be), I would have demanded he face the acusations head on. Be that tough guy you described yourself as in your books. Be ready to FTBSITTTD at any point. Go for the throat. All he had to do, from the time he went on Larry King to the time he was administered his rectal pounding by Oprah was to be the aggressive guy we saw in "Pieces." King accuses him of lying? Bring it. "You know Larry, I busted my ass shopping this piece to publishers and got shut down 19 times before Nan Talese took a chance on me. Did certain embellished aspects of my novel filter through to the memoir? Yeah, they probably did." Oprah tells you you mislead millions of people? "You know Oprah, maybe I did exaggerate or even lie in some places, but you know what? I was a freaking drug addled, boozed out addict, I exxagerated a lot to get by, I lied, I got in trouble, I went to rehab but I am clean right now and have been for 10 years. Take what you need to from that and move on." The Smoking Gun calls you out? "Hey, fuck you man! Walk a mile in my shoes before come after me. I didn't ask for all this celebrity. Oprah wants to put me on a pedastal, great, she wants to knock me off, even better. I am who I am and I don't apologize for any of it." Frey maintains that stance and he's a bad-ass. He appears on Larry king with his mommy and he looks like every other punk from Shaker I ever knew who ran home to his mom when the shit got thick (I'm kind of kidding here, but not so much).
Bottom line? Read the books. Fact/Fiction, Truth/Lies, Ethical/Non-Ethical, it doesn't matter, they're a great read. I just wish this guy wouldn't have apologized and caved like he did. I wanted to see that bad ass with the fury attacking his detractors. If anything, the lamb that he turned out to be makes me believe even less of the books' events. Well, don't forget to pony up your $10.25 for the movie version due out in 2007, it's sure to raise this whole ruckus yet again. Any thoughts or comments, I'd love to hear them.
Friday, January 27, 2006
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Happy New Year to All (four of you)!
Well, Since my last post, I've experienced two deaths, emergency surgery for a dear family friend, a holiday season, countless interviews and two job offers. Not to mention reading two books by the same author that completely blew me away.
On Thanksgiving a good friend of mine died when she fell down an elevator shaft in Washington DC. Needless to say, it was a shock to all of us as most had been in very recent contact with her. Those that hadn't were certainly kept informed by those that had been. As I came to grips with the situation I coordinated a trip to Cleveland with a good friend of mine. As I've found to be the case with my friends and even our extended group of friends from Cleveleland, we're very good at spreading the word and rallying for each other. Support in times like these is crucial and it was evident in spades. Folks who lived in Cleveland picked up those that didn't from local airports and everyone convened at the funeral home. One good thing that can be taken away from trying times like these is seeing folks you haven't seen in a long time and renewing that bond that made you friends in the first place. In this case that bond was a certain club in Cleveland where many of us had worked and hung out together. After the visitation we all convened at a friend's bar downtown and had a good opportunity to decompress from the repressive funeral home. As the drinks flowed stories were shared and memories recounted. We continued to stick together through the (painfully awful) eulogy and made it to the "lunch in the church basement" phase of the proceedings. Here, our group of friends convened in the deepest corner in an effort to keep the wagons circled. The food was an amazing collection of casseroles and well, er casseroles. Casseroles were made out of things I didn't even know you couldmake casseroles out of but we ate them. After attacking the dessert table and bringing two full plates back for our group we realized it would soon be time to go our separate ways. We hugged each other and exchanged numbers; made promises to keep in touch. Whether or not that happens is secondary to the fact that we were all there together for each other at that time; it was comforting to experience that. Dawn, I was just thinking about you too. You will be missed.
After coming back to New York I dove right back into the interview process attempting to stick to my goal of finding a new job by the new year. I narrowed my choices to three companies. One was a darkhorse where I made a really solid connection with the SVP of sales. After carefully considering my options I chose to go in a different direction but he paid me some very nice compliments and left the door open for future dialogue. I'd like to work for him someday because I think I can learn from him and in my line of work, I can never learn enough. I informed my new emplyer that I was accepting their offer and am scheduled to start tomorrow morning. New job for the new year, mission accomplished.
While I was in Cleveland for the funeral, my mom handed me a book she had found through the Oprah book club. Yeah, I saw the red flags too. But if you know my mom, you'll understand that she never watches Oprah, she just happened to catch the story behind this particular book and was compelled enough to buy and read the book. The book in question is "A Million Little Pieces" by James Frey. Frey is from Shaker Heights, Ohio, right next door to Cleveland Heights, Ohio where I was born and raised. Frey is actually five months younger than me and went to Fernway elementary school where one of my very best friends also went, she remembers him. Frey became addicted to alcohol and drugs and was smoking crack and blacking out every day by the time he was 23. The book chronicles his time at Hazelden, a rehab clinic in Minnesota, a place where friends of mine have gone. Their success rate is 17%. Their success rate is the best in the world. Their success rate is 17%. I won't recount his story, I just suggest you read it, it's utterly engrossing, sad, compelling, scary, uplifting and in your face all at the same time. Now, Frey is a screen writer and some folks have accused him of "embellishing" his story a bit. I don't care. Read this book. Even if it's 97% fiction (it's not), read this book.
I made it about 40 pages in at the beginning of December. When I came home for Christmas (can I still call it that?), I dove in and finished it in a couple days. I hit the Internet and tried to find out what I could about Frey. I read a couple interviews, found out he lives in NYC as well and also, best of all, discovered he is still a die hard Cleveland Indians fan. Check that, best of all, I found out he is still clean. During the course of events in "A Million Little Pieces" he develops a friendship with a man named Leonard. Leonard is a well connected mob fixture who becomes Frey's guardian of sorts. After checking Amazon I discovered that he had written a book detailing his friendship with Leonard and how it developed after his release from Hazelden. I bought this book the day I took off to come back to NYC and finished it that night; that's how compelling that book was. "My Friend Leonard" was outstanding. Again, Frey is a screenwriter, keep this in mind. It didn't matter to me, the book stands on its own as a heart wrenching, uplifting, thought provoking piece of work. I cried the entire last 20 pages, don't think a book has ever had that effect on me. Please read these two books.
My mom has a cousin from the old neighborhood whom she recently reconnected with. Her cousin is from her dad's side of the family. Now, my mom's folks (my grandparents) were divorced in the 40's and back then, you just didn't get divorced. My mom lived with her mother and was basically estranged from her dad's side of the family. This cousin is from that side of the family, so it's interesting/cool that they reconnected. Hey, family's family. It turns out that my mom's cousin married the son of the secretary of my grade school, interesting. Ok, enough of a history lesson here. Well, the husband has a very successful law firm in Cleveland, if you watch enough TV in Cleveland you'll see him tell you how concerned he is that you receive proper counsel should you ever need it. Very nice guy, very successful. My mom's cousin was a judge in Cleveland Heights and is a very fun/boisterous/in your face/honest person. They love sports and they love to entertain. They have a loge for Browns games, they have courtside seats for the Cavs, both her sons were bat boys for the Cleveland Indians. I saw the Browns beat the Ravens last Sunday in their loge with family and friends. He was flying to the Fiesta Bowl with his son the next day to see, in his words, "Notre Dame kick the holy living shit out of Ohio State." He had a heart attack on his plane en route to Tempe. His son was on the plane with him. He died. Yeah, I was watching the Browns game with him on Sunday, Monday he had a heart attack and died. I feel terrible for this family, last holiday season their oldest son was in a terrible car accident and is still wheel chair bound. Why this family? It never makes sense.
I spent New Years with a good friend of mine running around downtown Cleveland between three different spots. God bless that city, I've been gone five years plus but still knew every bartender. It's always good to see them. We all used to work together, they all take care of me like I still work with them, like I still have their backs, which of course I do, just from 500 miles away. Christmas Eve was what it always is at my mom's place, just a bit scaled back. Her friends, my friends, hanging out, drinking, conversing until all hours. Of course it wasn't at all complete because my mom's best friend had open heart surgery the night before. Christmas day was quiet; a visit to the hospital to visit our recovering friend and her husband. Christmas night was the Grog Shop as it always is. I smelled like an ashtray. A drunk ashtray.
While this post might sound a bit morose I'm happy to have welcomed 2006 to the plate. Let's see what happens this year. No resolutions, no promises. Let it roll and let's see what happens. Hey, pitchers and catchers report in six weeks!
On Thanksgiving a good friend of mine died when she fell down an elevator shaft in Washington DC. Needless to say, it was a shock to all of us as most had been in very recent contact with her. Those that hadn't were certainly kept informed by those that had been. As I came to grips with the situation I coordinated a trip to Cleveland with a good friend of mine. As I've found to be the case with my friends and even our extended group of friends from Cleveleland, we're very good at spreading the word and rallying for each other. Support in times like these is crucial and it was evident in spades. Folks who lived in Cleveland picked up those that didn't from local airports and everyone convened at the funeral home. One good thing that can be taken away from trying times like these is seeing folks you haven't seen in a long time and renewing that bond that made you friends in the first place. In this case that bond was a certain club in Cleveland where many of us had worked and hung out together. After the visitation we all convened at a friend's bar downtown and had a good opportunity to decompress from the repressive funeral home. As the drinks flowed stories were shared and memories recounted. We continued to stick together through the (painfully awful) eulogy and made it to the "lunch in the church basement" phase of the proceedings. Here, our group of friends convened in the deepest corner in an effort to keep the wagons circled. The food was an amazing collection of casseroles and well, er casseroles. Casseroles were made out of things I didn't even know you couldmake casseroles out of but we ate them. After attacking the dessert table and bringing two full plates back for our group we realized it would soon be time to go our separate ways. We hugged each other and exchanged numbers; made promises to keep in touch. Whether or not that happens is secondary to the fact that we were all there together for each other at that time; it was comforting to experience that. Dawn, I was just thinking about you too. You will be missed.
After coming back to New York I dove right back into the interview process attempting to stick to my goal of finding a new job by the new year. I narrowed my choices to three companies. One was a darkhorse where I made a really solid connection with the SVP of sales. After carefully considering my options I chose to go in a different direction but he paid me some very nice compliments and left the door open for future dialogue. I'd like to work for him someday because I think I can learn from him and in my line of work, I can never learn enough. I informed my new emplyer that I was accepting their offer and am scheduled to start tomorrow morning. New job for the new year, mission accomplished.
While I was in Cleveland for the funeral, my mom handed me a book she had found through the Oprah book club. Yeah, I saw the red flags too. But if you know my mom, you'll understand that she never watches Oprah, she just happened to catch the story behind this particular book and was compelled enough to buy and read the book. The book in question is "A Million Little Pieces" by James Frey. Frey is from Shaker Heights, Ohio, right next door to Cleveland Heights, Ohio where I was born and raised. Frey is actually five months younger than me and went to Fernway elementary school where one of my very best friends also went, she remembers him. Frey became addicted to alcohol and drugs and was smoking crack and blacking out every day by the time he was 23. The book chronicles his time at Hazelden, a rehab clinic in Minnesota, a place where friends of mine have gone. Their success rate is 17%. Their success rate is the best in the world. Their success rate is 17%. I won't recount his story, I just suggest you read it, it's utterly engrossing, sad, compelling, scary, uplifting and in your face all at the same time. Now, Frey is a screen writer and some folks have accused him of "embellishing" his story a bit. I don't care. Read this book. Even if it's 97% fiction (it's not), read this book.
I made it about 40 pages in at the beginning of December. When I came home for Christmas (can I still call it that?), I dove in and finished it in a couple days. I hit the Internet and tried to find out what I could about Frey. I read a couple interviews, found out he lives in NYC as well and also, best of all, discovered he is still a die hard Cleveland Indians fan. Check that, best of all, I found out he is still clean. During the course of events in "A Million Little Pieces" he develops a friendship with a man named Leonard. Leonard is a well connected mob fixture who becomes Frey's guardian of sorts. After checking Amazon I discovered that he had written a book detailing his friendship with Leonard and how it developed after his release from Hazelden. I bought this book the day I took off to come back to NYC and finished it that night; that's how compelling that book was. "My Friend Leonard" was outstanding. Again, Frey is a screenwriter, keep this in mind. It didn't matter to me, the book stands on its own as a heart wrenching, uplifting, thought provoking piece of work. I cried the entire last 20 pages, don't think a book has ever had that effect on me. Please read these two books.
My mom has a cousin from the old neighborhood whom she recently reconnected with. Her cousin is from her dad's side of the family. Now, my mom's folks (my grandparents) were divorced in the 40's and back then, you just didn't get divorced. My mom lived with her mother and was basically estranged from her dad's side of the family. This cousin is from that side of the family, so it's interesting/cool that they reconnected. Hey, family's family. It turns out that my mom's cousin married the son of the secretary of my grade school, interesting. Ok, enough of a history lesson here. Well, the husband has a very successful law firm in Cleveland, if you watch enough TV in Cleveland you'll see him tell you how concerned he is that you receive proper counsel should you ever need it. Very nice guy, very successful. My mom's cousin was a judge in Cleveland Heights and is a very fun/boisterous/in your face/honest person. They love sports and they love to entertain. They have a loge for Browns games, they have courtside seats for the Cavs, both her sons were bat boys for the Cleveland Indians. I saw the Browns beat the Ravens last Sunday in their loge with family and friends. He was flying to the Fiesta Bowl with his son the next day to see, in his words, "Notre Dame kick the holy living shit out of Ohio State." He had a heart attack on his plane en route to Tempe. His son was on the plane with him. He died. Yeah, I was watching the Browns game with him on Sunday, Monday he had a heart attack and died. I feel terrible for this family, last holiday season their oldest son was in a terrible car accident and is still wheel chair bound. Why this family? It never makes sense.
I spent New Years with a good friend of mine running around downtown Cleveland between three different spots. God bless that city, I've been gone five years plus but still knew every bartender. It's always good to see them. We all used to work together, they all take care of me like I still work with them, like I still have their backs, which of course I do, just from 500 miles away. Christmas Eve was what it always is at my mom's place, just a bit scaled back. Her friends, my friends, hanging out, drinking, conversing until all hours. Of course it wasn't at all complete because my mom's best friend had open heart surgery the night before. Christmas day was quiet; a visit to the hospital to visit our recovering friend and her husband. Christmas night was the Grog Shop as it always is. I smelled like an ashtray. A drunk ashtray.
While this post might sound a bit morose I'm happy to have welcomed 2006 to the plate. Let's see what happens this year. No resolutions, no promises. Let it roll and let's see what happens. Hey, pitchers and catchers report in six weeks!
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