I've been appalled by the story of one James Frey, who gulled the most rich and powerful woman in Chicago, Oprah Winfrey; and what is much worse, before Oprah, Nan Talese, head of Doubleday Books. Talese is the publisher of Frey's book, A Million Little Pieces. Frey told her that his book was fact and she, dollar signs in her eyes, I guess, believed him. Frey had tried to peddle his fiction, or -- if he were as critical of himself as he is of people he was in treatment with, he would have characterized his drivel as "bullshit fantasies" -- as nonfiction. But he got clean away with it. Of course, we're 22 years past 1984. Lies = truth, truth = lies. Frey is nothing, compared to Herr Karl Rove, Fuhrer Georg Busch, undsoweiter.
P.S. I listened to the first chapter of A Million Little Pieces (of shit) and it was bad, in my opinion, as literature (although I am not an esteemed publisher with the discriminative acumen of Ms Talese) -- and as a self-help work, which millions of suckers think it is.
And you should read Roger Ebert's review of the movie, Kissing a Fool, the script of which Frey co-wrote. (Frey needed help on this. I read once that there were six writers for Mr. Ed.) Bear in mind that Ebert is far and away the most charitable reviewer of movies there is, period.
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