James Frey: A Million Little Pieces

Reviewed by MICHAEL LARSEN

This extraordinary memoir begins with James Frey (pronounced "Fry"), aged 23, waking up on an aeroplane with a hole in his cheek, no front teeth, and with a great deal of his insides all over his outsides.

In complete blackout he has taken a front end trip down a metal fire escape and this is the result. When asked at the treatment centre, to which his parents take him, how he is feeling, he replies: "Terrible."

"In what way?" enquires the nurse.

"In every way."

What ensues is one of the most harrowing, visceral, astounding, frightening and moving books you are likely to read this, or any other year, fiction, or non-fiction, American, English or anything else.

It is shameless, yet full of self-loathing. It is guileless, yet deeply intelligent. It is a simple tale, yet it is utterly profound. Parts of it will revolt you, but you will keep
reading and reading and reading because it is as addictive as the substances it talks of.

If you are an "Addict, an Alcoholic and a Criminal", as Frey refers to himself, in here you may find a way out. Hope. Something.

If you are parents of an Addict, an Alcoholic and a Criminal you may gain some understanding. If you believe that there is no hope to be found in our dulled existence, you will find some within.

If you like Brett Easton Ellis and Jay McInerney and their cool precise language, you will enjoy reading this. Immensely. If all the hype about this young man and his memoir have put you off, ignore it. This is a great book.

Addiction memoirs, and I have read a lot of them, are either too glib because they want an audience (see Marian Keyes' Rachel's Holiday), honest but not gritty enough (see Caroline Knapp, Drinking: A Love Story), or so full of self-pity that they are
nauseous (see most of them).

Where Frey succeeds is that, while he is initially full of self-hatred at all the hideous things he has done to himself, his friends and his fine, normal, moneyed American parents, he asks for no sympathy, no help and offers no excuses.

His view is simple. "Am I going to be a pathetic dumbshit Addict and continue to waste my life or am I going to say no and try to stay sober and be a decent Person? It is a decision. Each and every time. String enough of these decisions together and you set a course and you set a standard of living. Addict or human."

His friendships with other addicts, and his brutally honest sessions with his parents provide much of the warmth and heart-rending moments, of which there are many. They are in blinding contrast to the physiological detail that Frey unflinchingly describes.

Does he live happily ever after? Yes. Ten years after recovery he sat down and wrote this book for 310 straight days. He has never read it himself. He finds it too disturbing. Says a lot.

John Murray, $27.99

* Michael Larson is an Auckland reviewer.