The extent of James Frey's lies in his best-selling memoir, A Million Little Pieces, is astounding.
And the response from his publisher is, well, sad and predictable.
Then again, Random House is making money so why should the higher-ups care about the truth.
But I deal with truth every day as part of my profession. And while it might be hard to get to an objective truth in a memoir, I do expect that the central facts an author lays out in his memoir are substantially accurate.
Frey, by his own admission, made up most of what's in his book. He didn't embellish.
He lied. And he's being awarded by selling more books and having the chance to see his life story told on the big screen.
Thanks to Oprah, Frey has gotten national exposure, selling his fiction as testimony designed to inspire people struggling with their own alcohol and drug addictions.
I haven't read his book, and the latest revelations make it highly unlikely that I ever will. But from what I heard, Frey spins a great story.
Too bad it's not truth.
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