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The James Frey Clause

James Frey has really pissed me off and I feel I must retaliate.

I write about my life, and I have had a remarkable—sometimes unbelievable—life. And because my life has been remarkable and sometimes unbelievable, people like James Frey—who lie in their memoirs—infuriate me.

If you are unfamiliar with James Frey, he is the author of. A Million Little Pieces, a memoir of his life as drug addict, alcoholic, and criminal who suffered through rehabilitation and eventually found redemption. Oprah Winfrey endorsed his book and it sold 3.5 million copies. Then, in January of 2006, the website, The Smoking Gun, discovered contradictions in his book that went beyond embellishment, went beyond foggy recollections of the facts; the contradictions were simply lies. Eventually, after some denial and debate, Oprah confronted Frey on national television, and the ex-junkie came clean. He admitted he lied.

But before I mislead you into thinking that I believe memoir writing (which I label on this site as creative nonfiction) should represent the facts and nothing but the facts and any deviations from the facts should discredit a writer and their books, the word “lie” should be examined. In the case of James Frey, I assign to his actions one of the Encarta Dictionary definitions of lie: “…to say something that is not true in a conscious effort to deceive somebody.” It is the intentional falsification of facts in order to deceive the readers—usually for the purpose of making a dull story more exciting—that infuriates me as a memoir writer because when a memoir writer who sells 3.5 million copies of a remarkable and unbelievable book suddenly becomes debunked, you create at least 3.5 million readers who will not necessarily trust the next remarkable and unbelievable memoir that comes along, even if it is 100% absolutely and certifiably true. What gives memoir writing its impact is the truth. Once you start adding fiction for the sake of drama, you then have the respect level of a made-for-TV movie based on a true story; you watch the movie for entertainment purposes, but think most of it is bullshit.

However, there is a slippery slope to memoir writing where sometimes you can’t tell the truth because it would be considered an invasion of privacy; or you shouldn’t tell the truth, even though you may want to, because telling the truth would hurt someone (usually an innocent victim or a person you care about) to such an extent that the pain the truth would cause that person outweighs the need to tell the story as it is. I’ve read of authors holding off to write their memoir until after the death of their parents for this reason. Or, in the case of Anais Nin, as long as her former husband Hugo was alive, the journals written during the years of her marriage to Hugo were edited and altered at the time of publication because she did not want to hurt Hugo with the truth of her infidelities. I can accept alterations of the truth based on compassion, and of course, the litigious nature of the world, but even then, these alterations must be an equally comparable substitute for the facts, and not an embellishment for the sake of drama.

To this point, let’s say you had an uncle on your mom’s side of the family who went through a terrible bout of alcoholism when you were a child, but with your mom’s help, redeemed himself and has been sober and respectable ever since. You’d love to include this in your memoir to demonstrate the compassionate nature of your mother, but it is a family taboo to discuss your uncle’s drinking problem and you’ve been told you will be disowned if you write about that time in your uncle’s life. An acceptable solution to this dilemma, in my opinion, would be to write the passage about your uncle’s rehabilitation with the help of your mom, substituting a fictitious childhood friend of your mom’s in the place of your uncle. This protects your uncle, yet still provides a powerful depiction of your compassionate mother based on the truth and, in my opinion, keeps the integrity of the book intact.

I can also accept incorrect facts because memory does not serve us well. As I approach 40, and coupled with the constant interruptions by my toddler son, my memory is not serving me so well these days. In my 20s, I could clearly remember conversations from my childhood. Now I can barely remember what my wife told me to get at the store. So, it is expected to get a few facts incorrect so long as they do not interfere with the underlying integrity of the book (and it should be noted here that the facts based on memory that cannot be documented can vary immensely from one person’s recollection to another).

There are other ways to lie in a memoir though, and that would be to lie about the emotional impact of the facts of the past. We all create emotional drama from time to time—and some of us all the time—around trivial events in our lives. There are various reasons to create this drama, but in the context of writing a memoir, being dishonest about the emotional impact of an event is an excellent way to create drama in an otherwise dull situation. While this does not apply directly to James Frey, it does apply to me and my writing. I happen to have an overactive imagination that in my past, created some highly unusual and dangerous drama around events in my life that now I look back on and have to wonder what psychological maladies I suffered from at the time. But if you met me now, you would not believe that I could be the person I used to be. And so I feel compelled to say that I do not believe it is ethical as a memoir writer to embellish the emotional impact of an event for dramatic effect either.

So after mulling all this over for two months, and given the attention and sales of James Frey’s book, the press coverage of the scandal around his lies, and the fact that I’ve published a few memoir pieces on this site which have prompted e-mails asking me if the story is true (The Undeniable and Unexplainable Event for example, a piece that I swear by as absolutely true as strange as it is), I feel the need to create a disclaimer, or a clause for my writing. A clause to act as a certificate of authenticity for my memoir, or creative nonfiction, writing: a James Frey Clause.

So here it is…

The James Frey Clause
I promise that the stories I write and classify as memoir, or creative nonfiction, are as factual and emotionally honest as privacy and compassion will allow or may the likeness of Oprah appear in my television and strike me dead.

In conclusion, while I think James Frey is such an ass I need to name a clause after him, I do find it fascinating that while the alcoholics I know are generally honest despite their affliction and its negative impact on their lives, the few people I have known in life who struggled with drug addiction also struggled with dishonesty and illusion to the level that I have wondered if lying and illusion are side effects of the drugs, or an actual part of their nature. Either way, James Frey has validated the opening line from Ministry’s song, Just One Fix, when it croaks, “Never trust a junkie.”

END
© 2006 Christian Cloud Abraham

Posted on April 2, 2006 in
Emotion: Anger, Type: Essay