Week 7 Prompt: Literary Hoaxes

"Write about what you want. Write well. It doesn't matter if it's true. I'll never know the difference." In 2003, in the basement of Glendale Mall in the heart of Indianapolis, my W131 professor instructed our night class on how to approach our personal narrative essay. It was the first time that I had ever considered the idea of artistic license (however naïve that may be), and simultaneously, had been given permission to use it on a school assignment. I ended up fictionalizing an event that happened in my life years prior, and my writing was better for it, which was reflected in my grade. My first college paper opened up a whole new way of writing personal narrative for me.

Fast-forward to about a year ago when my library purchased A Million Little Pieces, a 2019 movie based on the previously published book, A Million Little Pieces by James Frey, a memoir detailing the painful and depraved realities of addiction and recovery. As someone who has watched several loved ones struggle with addiction, I was interested, and I checked out the movie. I enjoyed the movie, so I decided to read the book as well. I was only familiar with the book from having seen it on the shelf; it is an eye-catching paperback with a blue background picturing an outstretched hand covered in what appears to be multi-colored decorating sprinkles. I had no knowledge of the book’s controversial background, but I could see that it had been a pick for Oprah’s book club. I mentioned to a coworker that I was reading the book and that I was moved by the author’s story. My coworker responded with, “You know that’s all fake, right?” He went on to tell me a bit about how the author had fabricated several key elements of his story. At learning this, I felt angry, duped, and embarrassed. I returned the book to the library without finishing it and haven’t picked it up since.

In the article, “Literary Hoaxes and the Ethics of Authorship” (2018), Louis Menand describes what he calls “the higher truth defense,”

"This is the argument that fabrications and exaggerations in books like these are in the service of more fully conveying 'what it is really like' to be Guatemalan or in recovery or whatever the theme of the life story happens to be. A Million Little Pieces tries to capture the experience of recovering from addiction. Readers don't care whether these things literally happened to James Frey, because they didn't buy the book to find out about James Frey. They bought it to learn about addiction and recovery. James Frey's job as a writer is only to convey that experience."

This statement caused me to reconsider my decision not to finish A Million Little Pieces. I was enjoying the book; I was moved by the thoughts and motivations and experiences of the narrator. If I'd never known that parts of the story were fabricated, it wouldn't have made my reading experience any less enriching. Menand goes on to say, "Forget about whether the story 'truly' happened to some 'real' person -- a philosophical rabbit hole. We are judging words on a page. Either they work for us or they don't." And in the case of A Million Little Pieces, the words on the page had worked for me. As it turns out, the story works for most everyone who bought the book. Menand points out, "James Frey's publisher agreed to refund buyers who felt cheated, and set aside more than two million dollars for the purpose. (Not many wanted their money back: the total refunds came to less than thirty thousand dollars -- a victory for the higher-truth defense.)"

As a reader, I'm not sure it should matter much whether or not elements of a memoir have been embellished and/or fabricated as long as the experience is artfully conveyed and the reader is left with a greater understanding of the world and/or the human experience.

References

Menand, L. (2018). Literary hoaxes and the ethics of authorship. The New Yorker. https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2018/12/10/literary-hoaxes-and-the-ethics-of-authorship