3.5 ⭐, rounded up

I think I am proudest of making it through this entire book without vomiting once.

(ETA: I was in my first trimester of pregnancy at the time, so triggers were not exactly welcome!)

I really wish I'd gotten my shit together to review this before all of the news about how much of it might be fiction started swirling around. But since I didn't, I feel some responsibility to talk about that, as well as about the book itself. Oh well.

The drama, in case you live under a rock, is that the truth of a number of the claims Frey makes in this book, a memoir, is being contested. You can take a look at this article if you'd like more information. My thoughts are that Frey probably did exaggerate or simply make up some of the things he writes in A Million Little Pieces. Mostly, though, I don't care. My not caring is twofold. First, this is a great book, and it would be a great book if it were fiction, so why should it matter how much of it actually happened? Secondly, I think it's naive to expect a memoir to be 100% factual (if 100% factual even exists). People write with an agenda, people even remember with an agenda, and that's always going to come across, to some extent. That being said, if it's true that Frey exaggerated or invented a lot of what is in this book, then a disclaimer to that effect should have been printed at the front of the book. Tim O'Brien, one of my favorite writers of all time, wrote several partially-factual/partially-fiction works dealing with Vietnam. His response to critics of his not being 100% accurate was that he was writing the truth about what being there felt like, about what being there was, and sometimes the actual facts fit into that and sometimes they don't. I can accept that, and I even admire the perspective. But it's not fair to the reader not to lay it out at the beginning if that is what you are doing. O'Brien does lay it out, and Frey probably should have.

That all being said, I thought this was a very high quality book. The plot is, in many ways, predictable. Frey is a young, well-off, white alcoholic, drug addict, and criminal. The book is the story of his six-week "last chance" rehab, during which time he comes off his addictions and begins his path of sobriety. Nothing revolutionary there. However, Frey's writing is top notch, which makes the story interesting to read, and his take on addiction and recovery is much less that you find in most people who write about it and much more like that I've found in the real life addicts I know. Frey has little respect for AA or 12 stepping in general, and he insists throughout the book on taking responsibility for his own actions and for his addictions. He even finds fault with the untouchable tenant that addiction is a disease. To me, at least, these things are interesting. And whether Frey the human being ever really held them or to what extent matters very little to me. What I'm interested in is what Frey the writer has to say about them.

I like this book because it was interesting to read, it didn't remind me of every other addiction book I've ever read, and it made me think. None of those things require a single word of it to have been true. So I recommend you read it. However, if there is a sharp and important delineation in your mind between fiction and memoir, you'd probably better read this one as fiction.

This was even better than most drug addiction memoirs. Instead of a complete reminiscence of "this is why you shouldn't do drugs, kids", you also travelled with him THROUGH rehab and the entire healing process. Very well written. I wish him all the best.

In his much-debated book, Frey offers the reader a significant glimpse into his life as an addict and the time he spent in a treatment centre addressing these demons. Opening in dramatic fashion, the reader is immediately treated to Frey circling the drain as he lands in Chicago and is shipped off to an unnamed facility in Minnesota. His arrival garners much confusion and pushback, as Frey expresses feeling that he did not belong or fit in amongst others who are at various stages of addiction. The reader discovers, through Frey's own narrative, how withdrawn he feels about the process and how, while being frank about the depths to which his addiction overtook his life, he does not feel that a counselling and Twelve Step approach will reunite the million pieces into which his life has shattered over the thirteen years since addiction formally reared its ugly head. Bridging acquaintances with numerous others at the facility, Frey is able to compare his life against those of others who have also had to battle addiction. With first-hand accounts of withdrawal symptoms, despair, and refusing to engage in therapeutic intervention, Frey seems well on his way to burning the money spent on his time in treatment. It is only when his parents arrive for Family Counselling, an intense program whereby the addict and those closest to him tear off all the scabs related to the addiction, that Frey begins to synthesise the pain and devastation that his life has become. The reader is able to see the insights that Frey offers, as well as the reactions of his parents, coupled with a better understanding of the addiction's nexus. These insightful sections begin the first steps in the long road to recovery and Frey's ability to find some semblance of order in his shattered life. However, a fellow addict, Lilly, plays a key role in his life at this point in time and their connection proves an addiction in and of itself, as well as contravening the Cardinal Rule of the facility. A wonderful story that pulls no punches about the horrendous nature of addiction, the struggles an addict faces in coming to the realisation of their powerlessness, and the crux of the recovery process. Told in as raw a format as many readers will have encountered, Frey presents the reader with much food for thought as they explore this poignant narrative.

While much has been made of the validity of the text, those who choose to sit on their pedestals and lob blame or scorn do nothing for the message found within its pages. Frey tells an extremely naked story about the addict and the struggle to climb out of the hole in which they dig themselves. Be it drugs, alcohol, sex, gambling, or other vices, Frey's narrative can touch the heart of the attentive and non-judgmental reader. As Frey says in his own words, “There is no excitement, no glamour, no fun. There are no good times, there is no joy, there is no happiness. There is no future and no escape. There is only an obsession. An all-encompassing, fully enveloping, completely overwhelming obsession.” As soon as the reader can come to terms with this and sees the message at the root of the story, that of the horrors of addiction, there is a chance to synthesise all that is told in this story. Passing judgment or trying to vilify the author because of factual irregularities serves only to demonstrate how said critic misses the point of this book and lacks of ability to comprehend the deeper message. Addiction is horrid, it is a struggle each and every day. We can sit in our ivory towers and bemoan those who drink or smoke crack, but that will not solve the problem, it only seeks to push it under the rug. While the early chapters were hard for me to digest, not only for their content but also the jagged nature of the writing style, I grew to accept that Frey sought to present the reader with the perspective of the addict, as though it were a written at the time of the events. Choppy, repetitive, and even nonsensical at times, Frey portrays the struggles that the addict must face while also presenting a lifestyle that, for some readers, is entirely foreign. Add to that, the text is free from any quotation marks, allowing him to recollect things as he did, rather than shackling himself into anything binding. Frey tries to shine light on it and offer a degree of compassion for those who struggle by personalising the suffering. For that, he is owed a debt of gratitude.

Thank you, Rae Eddy, for opening my eyes to this book and to the inner struggles with which I could relate on many levels. You have touched my life in ways that I cannot clearly elucidate, but I think you know precisely what I mean, even without the written word.

Kudos, Mr. Frey for putting forth this frank account of the struggles an addict faces. Some may be too wrapped up in their own soap box speeches as they dole out praise and the public rushes to guzzle their 'Kool-Aid'. You steer clear of this and the drama of talk-show blather.

Like/hate the review? An ever-growing collection of others appears at:
http://pecheyponderings.wordpress.com/

Glad that's over.
Very macho, right down to most of it being bullshit, but entertaining enough in places, especially early on, nevertheless. Kind of ridiculous, too, though - the dentist scene is hilarious. Childish, somehow, despite all the posturing and posing.

As I was reading this, I kept thinking - when this was first published, people actually believed this was a biographical account?? Yes, hindsight is 20/20, and yes, not everyone knows what happens with addiction and addiction therapy, but there were just too many situations that beggared belief. I've had friends who were, in one way or another, involved with treatment. They've all said that this is the biggest load of nonsense they've ever read.

Continuous vomiting with massive blood and tissue loss but no medical intervention, yet still able to function more or less normally - doesn't happen, folks. The body can't sustain that kind of blood loss. Dental procedures done without anesthetic on an addict - that doesn't happen either. It would be a violation of every medical oath ever taken, by a dentist, by a doctor, by anyone in the field. The utter incompetence of the clinic staff should have been a red flag to anyone who has even a vague clue about treatment of addictions. I mean really, a violent ex-patient manages to get back into the clinic, brandishing a club, and nobody catches him at the door? I guess it could happen but I doubt that it results in a long drawn out screaming match in front of nearly every patient in the building before the person is secured and removed from the facility immediately.

I'm rehashing much-debated issues here, I know. So on to the actual writing itself. I've seen this stream of consciousness approach before. It's been done much more skillfully and effectively. The awkwardness of the prose and the heavy use of profanity is supposed to make it 'edgy' and 'raw' and 'real.' It ends up being overdone and after a while it just gets annoying. I've read real biographies of addicts, some with profanity and some without, and they manage to be much edgier, much rawer and much more real than this book had a hope in hell of being.

I read this to get it off of my TBR list and to fulfill a group reading challenge. It's done and good riddance to it. Now back to reality and really good literature.

This book isn't getting one star from me on the basis of its fabrication- it's getting one star from me on the basis that it is absolute codswallop. The machismo bollocks that permeates every line of this thing is about as frustrating as it can get, and there's not a lot to be said for the healing power of love at first sight or any of the 'special' traits that the author apparently shows that makes him 'special' and 'worth saving'. The fact that he constantly harps on about his 'mind powers' gets very tired very quickly, and honestly does more harm than good- to poo-poo the journeys of so many people facing addiction who have found help through AA and the Twelve Steps with how strong you are on the basis of using only your brain is senseless and does very little to help people recover. Also, how many truncated sentences can one man use? This is like an exercise in juvenile slam poetry, but where the topic is only how much this guy loves himself.

As for the fact that the whole thing was fairly well wildly made up, I fail to see how that could not have been picked up on sooner. There's absolutely nothing here that brings plausibility in the wake of the dental appointment, and I wish I could just walk up to a Mafioso and have him declare that I'm the son he never had just because I seem special. It's rather odd too how the bulk of these characters conveniently die, somewhat as a cautionary tale I presume, but also as a convenient removal of loose ends. I'm not saying it reeks of fakery...I'm saying it stinks of it. Not something I can even see should've been picked for Oprah's Book Club in any fashion, but if you're going to say no to 'My Dark Vanessa' and yes to 'American Dirt', I think the taste levels already need querying anyway.

Where to even start!! First off, this did not feel like a typical addiction book. Freys style of writing enticed me from page one and made it so interesting to read. I was hooked! Overall, I think it was an incredible story and couldn’t care less about whether it’s titled a fiction or a memoir. I love it regardless of the genre!!

"אני לבד. לבד כאן ולבד בעולם. לבד בלב ולבד במוח. לבד בכל מקום, כל הזמן, מאז שאני זוכר. לבד עם המשפחה, לבד עם החברים, לבד בחדר מלא אנשים. לבד כשאני מתעורר, לבד במהלך כל יום ויום, לבד כשאני מגיע לבסוף אל החשכה. אני לבד בזוועה שלי. לבד בזוועה שלי. אני לא רוצה להיות לבד. מעולם לא רציתי להיות לבד. אני שונא את זה. נורא שונא את זה. "

הספר "מיליון רסיסים קטנים" עורר שערוריה רבתית בזמנו בשל החירות הספרותית שנקט המחבר בחלקים מסוימים של הספר וכך נתפס שרימה את ציבור הקוראים שלו שסבר (גם בעידוד הסופר) שמדובר בסיפור אמיתי. יחד עם זאת מדובר בסיפור סוחף, שואב ונוגע ללב שקשה להתנתק ממנו.

זהו סיפורו של בחור בן 23 ממשפחה נורמטיבית, שבוקר אחד מתעורר במטוס לאחר שאיבד 4 משיניו, חור מדמם בלחיו ואין לו זיכרון מאין הוא מגיע ולאן הוא טס. לאחר שהוא נאסף ע"י הוריו בשדה התעופה הוא מאושפז במכון גמילה מאלכוהול וסמים וכך הוא מתאר את חיו:

"ג'יימס פריי. נולד בקליבלנד, אוהיו, ב-12 בספטמבר 1969. התחיל לגנוב שלוקים מכוסיות משקה בגיל שבע. דפק את הראש בפעם הראשונה בגיל עשר. הקיא משתיה מופרזת בפעם הראשונה בגיל עשר. עישן גראס בגיל 12. בגיל 13 שתה ועישן בקביעות. איבד את ההכרה בפעם הראשונה בגיל 14. בגיל 15 נעצר 3 פעמים. על נהיגה ללא רישיון, ונדליזם וחבלה ברכוש, שכרות בציבור והחזקת אלכוהול בהיותו קטין. בילה לילה במעצר. בגיל 15 התנסה בפעם הראשונה בקוקאין, אל-אס-די וספיד. נעצר שלוש פעמים נוספות בגיל 16..."

וכך בגיל 23, מוכה וחבוט כשגופו על סף התמוטטות ומוות ונפשו שבורה הוא צריך להחליט האם להיאבק למען החיים או לרדת ביגון שאולה. כשגופו ונפשו מבקשים את האלכוהול ואת הסמים, הוא יודע שאם יבחר בדרך הזו הוא גוזר את גורלו למוות. הוא אינו מאמין בשיטת 12 הצעדים וטוען שהשיטה מחליפה התמכרות אחת באחרת. וכך בעודו באישפוז במכון, יום אחרי יום הוא נלחם בשדה הקרב לפעמים הוא מצליח, לפעמים הוא נכשל, אבל תמיד בקצב מסחרר שואב בלי רחמים על עצמו או על הקורא רק הכרה צלולה בעבר ובכאב שהוא מסב למשפחתו ולקרוביו.

"השערים פתוחים ושלוש־עשרה שנים של התמכרות, אלימות, גיהינום ומה שמתלווה אליהם מבטאות את עצמן בדמעות הדחוסות וביבבות הכבדות ובקוצר הנשימה ובתחושת האובדן העצומה. האובדן מתפשט בי, ממלא אותי, מכריע אותי. זה אובדן של ילדות של התבגרות של אושר של נורמליות של אהבה של אמון של תבונה של אמונה באלוהים של משפחה של חברים של עתיד של פוטנציאל של כבוד עצמי של אנושיות של
שפיות של עצמי של הכול הכול הכול. איבדתי הכול ואני אבוד ונותר גוש של קינה, עצב, יגון, צער וכאב לב. אני אבוד. איבדתי. הכול. הכול."

גם אם הסופר נקט חירות סיפרותית, אין לי ספק שעמדה מאחורי הדבר החלטה מודעת על המסר שהוא מבקש להעביר לקוראים. אדם הבוחר בדרך האלכוהול והסמים צפוי לכאב, בדידות ואובדן של כל מה שידע בחייו. אני מאמינה שהסופר חשב שהמטרה מקדשת האמצעים ולטעמי הוא באמת עשה עבודה טובה מאוד.

הספר מאוד אמין, חשוף ולוכד. בקצה הסיפור יש תקווה, יש חברות, יש אהבה וגם אם אין אמונה באלוהים, יש אמונה בכוחות הריפוי האנושיים.

[warning: swear words follow, beware beware]

So I read this knowing it was a total work of fiction, but I think I would have gotten it even if I hadn't known. It was just such utter crap -- oh, look at me, I'm so fucked up I can't even look myself in the eyes, in fact I'm more fucked up than EVERYONE else around me at this drug rehab facility, and yet somehow everyone just instinctively loves me -- and look how tough I am, I can undergo dental surgery without anesthesia, because I AM HARD-CORE and also DETERMINED TO KICK MY DRUG HABIT ALL ON MY OWN (you know, except for the help of all those people around me who inexplicably love me at first sight and will do anything to help me because they can sense my INNER NOBILITY). Oh, and look what a big strong tough brave chivalrous man I am for saving a woman who is, well, not as fucked up as me (because face it, nobody in the history of the world has EVER BEEN as fucked up as me), but who is delicate and pretty and totally incapable of HANDLING HER SHIT like I am, because I am MADE OF STEEL.

Yeah, I really hated this book.

Una novela muy dura

I read this book long before the scandal surrounding it came out.

At the time, while reading it, I was so overwhelmed by the story, it was an amazing story about fighting a terrible war of addiction.
I loved the story, and the writing was brilliant (even though I read a translation of it).

I wish the writer would say it is a 'Based on a real story" instead of calling it "memoirs", but still, it was an amazing read and therefore, it is staying on my 'All Time Favorite' shelf, with the 5 stars I originally gave it!