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A Million Little Pieces par [Frey, James]
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A Million Little Pieces Format Kindle

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Descriptions du produit

News from Doubleday & Anchor Books

The controversy over James Frey's A Million Little Pieces has caused serious concern at Doubleday and Anchor Books. Recent interpretations of our previous statement notwithstanding, it is not the policy or stance of this company that it doesn’t matter whether a book sold as nonfiction is true. A nonfiction book should adhere to the facts as the author knows them.

It is, however, Doubleday and Anchor's policy to stand with our authors when accusations are initially leveled against their work, and we continue to believe this is right and proper. A publisher's relationship with an author is based to an extent on trust. Mr. Frey's repeated representations of the book's accuracy, throughout publication and promotion, assured us that everything in it was true to his recollections. When the Smoking Gun report appeared, our first response, given that we were still learning the facts of the matter, was to support our author. Since then, we have questioned him about the allegations and have sadly come to the realization that a number of facts have been altered and incidents embellished.

We bear a responsibility for what we publish, and apologize to the reading public for any unintentional confusion surrounding the publication of A Million Little Pieces. We are immediately taking the following actions:

  • We are issuing a publisher's note to be included in all future printings of the book.*
  • James Frey has written an author's note that will appear in all future printings of the book.* Read the author's note.
  • The jacket for all future editions will carry the line "With new notes from the publisher and from the author."

    *Customers should find the Author's Note and Publisher's Note in copies purchased from after April 15, 2006.
    Note: The following editorial reviews were written before the recent revelations by James Frey and the publisher.
    The electrifying opening of James Frey's debut memoir, A Million Little Pieces, smash-cuts to the then 23-year-old author on a Chicago-bound plane "covered with a colorful mixture of spit, snot, urine, vomit and blood." Wanted by authorities in three states, without ID or any money, his face mangled and missing four front teeth, Frey is on a steep descent from a dark marathon of drug abuse. His stunned family checks him into a famed Minnesota drug treatment center where a doctor promises "he will be dead within a few days" if he starts to use again, and where Frey spends two agonizing months of detox confronting "The Fury" head on:

    I want a drink. I want fifty drinks. I want a bottle of the purest, strongest, most destructive, most poisonous alcohol on Earth. I want fifty bottles of it. I want crack, dirty and yellow and filled with formaldehyde. I want a pile of powder meth, five hundred hits of acid, a garbage bag filled with mushrooms, a tube of glue bigger than a truck, a pool of gas large enough to drown in. I want something anything whatever however as much as I can.

    One of the more harrowing sections is when Frey submits to major dental surgery without the benefit of anesthesia or painkillers (he fights the mind-blowing waves of "bayonet" pain by digging his fingers into two old tennis balls until his nails crack). His fellow patients include a damaged crack addict with whom Frey wades into an ill-fated relationship, a federal judge, a former championship boxer, and a mobster (who, upon his release, throws a hilarious surf-and-turf bacchanal, complete with pay-per-view boxing). In the book's epilogue, when Frey ticks off a terse update on everyone, you can almost hear the Jim Carroll Band's brutal survivor's lament "People Who Died" kicking in on the soundtrack of the inevitable film adaptation.

    The rage-fueled memoir is kept in check by Frey's cool, minimalist style. Like his steady mantra, "I am an Alcoholic and I am a drug Addict and I am a Criminal," Frey's use of repetition takes on a crisp, lyrical quality which lends itself to the surreal experience. The book could have benefited from being a bit leaner. Nearly 400 pages is a long time to spend under Frey's influence, and the stylistic acrobatics (no quotation marks, random capitalization, left-aligned text, wild paragraph breaks) may seem too self-conscious for some readers, but beyond the literary fireworks lurks a fierce debut. --Brad Thomas Parsons

  • Extrait

    I wake to the drone of an airplane engine and the feeling of something warm dripping down my chin. I lift my hand to feel my face. My front four teeth are gone, I have a hole in my cheek, my nose is broken and my eyes are swollen nearly shut. I open them and I look around and I'm in the back of a plane and there's no one near me. I look at my clothes and my clothes are covered with a colorful mixture of spit, snot, urine, vomit and blood. I reach for the call button and I find it and I push it and I wait and thirty seconds later an Attendant arrives. How can I help you? Where am I going? You don't know? No. You're going to Chicago, Sir. How did I get here? A Doctor and two men brought you on. They say anything? They talked to the Captain, Sir. We were told to let you sleep. How long till we land? About twenty minutes. Thank you. Although I never look up, I know she smiles and feels sorry for me. She shouldn't. A short while later we touch down. I look around for anything I might have with me, but there's nothing. No ticket, no bags, no clothes, no wallet. I sit and I wait and I try to figure out what happened. Nothing comes. Once the rest of the Passengers are gone I stand and start to make my way to the door. After about five steps I sit back down. Walking is out of the question. I see my Attendant friend and I raise a hand. Are you okay? No. What's wrong? I can't really walk. If you make it to the door I can get you a chair. How far is the door? Not far. I stand. I wobble. I sit back down. I stare at the floor and take a deep breath. You'll be all right. I look up and she's smiling. Here. She holds out her hand and I take it. I stand and I lean against her and she helps me down the Aisle. We get to the door. I'll be right back. I let go of her hand and I sit down on the steel bridge of the Jetway that connects the Plane to the Gate. I'm not going anywhere. She laughs and I watch her walk away and I close my eyes. My head hurts, my mouth hurts, my eyes hurt, my hands hurt. Things without names hurt. I rub my stomach. I can feel it coming. Fast and strong and burning. No way to stop it, just close your eyes and let it ride. It comes and I recoil from the stench and the pain. There's nothing I can do. Oh my God. I open my eyes. I'm all right. Let me find a Doctor. I'll be fine. Just get me out of here. Can you stand? Yeah, I can stand. I stand and I brush myself off and I wipe my hands on the floor and I sit down in the wheelchair she has brought me. She goes around to the back of the chair and she starts pushing. Is someone here for you? I hope so. You don't know. No. What if no one's there? It's happened before, I'll find my way. We come off the Jetway and into the Gate. Before I have a chance to look around, my Mother and Father are standing in front of me. Oh Jesus. Please, Mom. Oh my God, what happened? I don't want to talk about it, Mom. Jesus Christ, Jimmy. What in Hell happened? She leans over and she tries to hug me. I push her away. Let's just get out of here, Mom. My Dad goes around to the back of the chair. I look for the Attendant but she has disappeared. Bless her. You okay, James? I stare straight ahead. No, Dad, I'm not okay. He starts pushing the chair. Do you have any bags? My Mother continues crying. No. People are staring. Do you need anything? I need to get out of here, Dad. Just get me the fuck out of here. They wheel me to their car. I climb in the backseat and I take off my shirt and I lie down. My Dad starts driving, my Mom keeps crying, I fall asleep. About four hours later I wake up. My head is clear but everything throbs. I sit forward and I look out the window. We've pulled into a Filling Station somewhere in Wisconsin. There is no snow on the ground, but I can feel the cold. My Dad opens the Driver's door and he sits down and he closes the door. I shiver. You're awake. Yeah. How are you feeling? Shitty. Your Mom's inside cleaning up and getting supplies. You need anything? A bottle of water and a couple bottles of wine and a pack of cigarettes. Seriously? Yeah. This is bad, James. I need it. You can't wait. No. This will upset your Mother. I don't care. I need it. He opens the door and he goes into the Filling Station. I lie back down and I stare at the ceiling. I can feel my heart quickening and I hold out my hand and I try to keep it straight. I hope they hurry. Twenty minutes later the bottles are gone. I sit up and I light a smoke and I take a slug of water. Mom turns around. Better? If you want to put it that way. We're going up to the Cabin. I figured. We're going to decide what to do when we get there. All right. What do you think? I don't want to think right now. You're gonna have to soon. Then I'll wait till soon comes. We head north to the Cabin. Along the way I learn that my Parents, who live in Tokyo, have been in the States for the last two weeks on business. At four a.m. they received a call from a friend of mine who was with me at a Hospital and had tracked them down in a hotel in Michigan. He told them that I had fallen face first down a Fire Escape and that he thought they should find me some help. He didn't know what I was on, but he knew there was a lot of it and he knew it was bad. They had driven to Chicago during the night. So what was it? What was what? What were you taking? I'm not sure. How can you not be sure? I don't remember. What do you remember? Bits and pieces. Like what. I don't remember. We drive on and after a few hard silent minutes, we arrive. We get out of the car and we go into the House and I take a shower because I need it. When I get out there are some fresh clothes sitting on my bed. I put them on and I go to my Parents' room. They are up drinking coffee and talking but when I come in they stop. Hi. Mom starts crying again and she looks away. Dad looks at me. Feeling better? No. You should get some sleep. I'm gonna. Good. I look at my Mom. She can't look back. I breathe. I just. I look away. I just, you know. I look away. I can't look at them. I just wanted to say thanks. For picking me up. Dad smiles. He takes my Mother by the hand and they stand and they come over to me and they give me a hug. I don't like it when they touch me so I pull away. Good night. Good night, James. We love you. I turn and I leave their Room and I close their door and I go to the Kitchen. I look through the cabinets and I find an unopened gallon bottle of whiskey. The first sip brings my stomach back up, but after that it's all right. I go to my Room and I drink and I smoke some cigarettes and I think about her. I drink and I smoke and I think about her and at a certain point blackness comes and my memory fails me. Back in the car with a headache and bad breath. We're heading north and west to Minnesota. My Father made some calls and got me into a Clinic and I don't have any other options, so I agree to spend some time there and for now I'm fine with it. It's getting colder. My face has gotten worse and it is hideously swollen. I have trouble speaking, eating, drinking, smoking. I have yet to look in a mirror. We stop in Minneapolis to see my older Brother. He moved there after getting divorced and he knows how to get to the Clinic. He sits with me in the backseat and he holds my hand and it helps because I'm scared. We pull into the Parking Lot and park the car and I finish a bottle and we get out and we start walking toward the Entrance of the Clinic. Me and my Brother and my Mother and my Father. My entire Family. Going to the Clinic. I stop and they stop with me. I stare at the Buildings. Low and long and connected. Functional. Simple. Menacing. I want to run or die or get fucked up. I want to be blind and dumb and have no heart. I want to crawl in a hole and never come out. I want to wipe my existence straight off the map. Straight off the fucking map. I take a deep breath. Let's go. We enter a small Waiting Room. A woman sits behind a desk reading a fashion magazine. She looks up. May I help you? My Father steps forward and speaks with her as my Mother and Brother and I find chairs and sit in them. I'm shaking. My hands and my feet and my lips and my chest. Shaking. For any number of reasons. Mother and Brother move next to me and they take my hands and they hold them and they can feel what is happening to me. We look at the floor and we don't speak. We wait and we hold hands and we breathe and we think. My Father finishes with the woman and he turns around and he stands in front of us. He looks happy and the woman is on the phone. He kneels down. They're gonna check you in now. All right. You're gonna be fine. This is a good place. The best place. That's what I hear. You ready? I guess so. We stand and we move toward a small Room where a man sits behind a desk with a computer. He meets us at the door.I'm sorry, but you have to leave him here. My Father nods. We'll check him in and you can call later to make sure he's all right. My Mother breaks down. He's in the right place. Don't worry. My Brother looks away. He's in the right place. I turn and they hug me. One at a time and hold tight. Squeezing and holding, I show them what I can. I turn and without a word I walk into the Room and the man shuts the door and they're gone. The man shows me a chair and returns to his desk. He smiles. Hi. Hello. How are you? How do I look? Not good. I feel worse. Your name is James. You're twenty-three. You live in North Carolina. Yeah. You're going to stay with us for a while. You okay with that? For now. Do you know anything about this Facility? No. Do you want to know anything? I don't care. He smiles, stares at me for a moment. He speaks. We are the oldest Residential Drug and Alcohol Treatment Facility in the World. We were founded in 1949 in an old house that sat on the land where these Buildings, and there are thirty-two interconnected Buildings here, sit now. We have treated over twenty thousand Patients. We have the highest success rate of any Facility in the World. At any given time, there are between two hundred and two hundred and fifty Patients spread through six Units, three of which house men and three of which house women. We believe that Patients should stay here for as long a term as they need, not something as specific as a twenty-eight day Program. Although it is expensive to come here, many of our Patients are here on scholarships that we fund and through subsidies that we support. We have an endowment of several hundred million dollars. We not only treat Patients, we are also one the leading Research and Educational Institutions in the field of Addiction Studies. You should consider yourself fortunate to be here and you should be excited to start a new chapter in your life. I stare at the man. I don't speak. He stares back at me, waiting for me to say something. There is an awkward moment. He smiles. You ready to get started? I don't smile. Sure. He gets up and I get up and we walk down a hall. He talks and I don't. The doors are always open here, so if you want to leave, you can. Substance use is not allowed and if you're caught using or possessing, you will be sent Home. You are not allowed to say anything more than hello to any women aside from Doctors, Nurses or Staff Members. If you violate this rule, you will be sent Home. There are other rules, but those are the only ones you need to know right now. We walk through a door into the Medical Wing. There are small Rooms and Doctors and Nurses and a Pharmacy. The cabinets have large steel locks. He shows me to a Room. It has a bed and a desk and a chair and a closet and a window. Everything is white. He stands at the door and I sit on the bed. A Nurse will be here in a few minutes to talk with you. Fine. You feel okay? No, I feel like shit. It'll get better. Yeah. Trust me. Yeah. The man leaves and he shuts the door and I'm alone. My feet bounce, I touch my face, I run my tongue along my gums. I'm cold and getting colder. I hear someone scream. The door opens and a Nurse walks into the Room. She wears white, all white, and she is carrying a clipboard. She sits in the chair by the desk. Hi, James. Hi. I need to ask you some questions. All right. I also need to check your blood pressure and your pulse. All right. What type of substances do you normally use? Alcohol. Every day? Yes. What time do you start drinking?

    Détails sur le produit

    • Format : Format Kindle
    • Taille du fichier : 4011 KB
    • Nombre de pages de l'édition imprimée : 448 pages
    • Pagination - ISBN de l'édition imprimée de référence : 0307276902
    • Editeur : Anchor (11 mai 2004)
    • Vendu par : Amazon Media EU S.à r.l.
    • Langue : Anglais
    • ASIN: B000FC1MOQ
    • Synthèse vocale : Non activée
    • X-Ray :
    • Word Wise: Activé
    • Composition améliorée: Activé
    • Moyenne des commentaires client : 5.0 étoiles sur 5 4 commentaires client
    • Classement des meilleures ventes d'Amazon: n°346.810 dans la Boutique Kindle (Voir le Top 100 dans la Boutique Kindle)
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    Par Bobby le 28 décembre 2006
    Format: Broché
    This outstanding memoir by James Frey's articulating his struggles to put his pathetic , addicted, broken life back together is written with such realness that most addicts can relate to it. One gets awed from the beginning by the author’s writing skills as well as the gripping nature of the story. Not only has it so many lessons in it, I also find it inspirational. Like SMASHED, or The Oaf in the book USURPER AND OTHER STORIES, A MILLION LITTLE PIECES easily brings tears, sighs, laughter and phew in different turns.
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    Format: Broché
    Gold Star Award Winner!

    This is a terrifying novel about drug and alcohol addiction and rehabilitation. Anyone who has been or is in rehab for anything should be required to read this book. Anyone who has family members in rehab should read this book. Basically, everyone over the age of 14 should have to read this book.

    It depicts the horrible tragedy of addiction and how Mr. Frey overcomes it. He knows that he has an addiction problem when he wakes up on a plane not knowing how he got there, where the plane is going, or how he got a broken nose and a hole through his cheek. When the plane lands, he gets off the plane and has his parents drive him to rehab, where he receives detoxification and learns how to control his drinking and drug addictions.

    The book is his journey through rehab and how be becomes a better person. There is a lot of vulgarity and things that seem inappropriate but are a must for the story. The language is probably how everyone talked and the extreme drug situations are really what he went through.

    There has been a lot of controversy over this book because there are parts that are "embellished" and altered. If you can see though all of that, then this book is truly amazing. I wouldn't suggest reading this book if you are under the age of fourteen due the language and theme of the book. You also might not want to read A MILLION LITTLE PIECES if you have a faint heart or easily get sick to your stomach because there are some extremely graphic scenes in the book. This is one I highly recommend, though.

    Reviewed by: Taylor Rector
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    Format: Broché Achat vérifié
    Suite au conseil d'un ami, je me suis procurée ce livre, sans savoir à quoi m'attendre. Au bout de quelques pages, on entre dans le monde de James, qui n'est pas sans repos. Et on ne peut plus s'arrêter, il faut qu'on sache ce qu'il devient, comment il vit les choses. Je pense pouvoir dire que c'est un livre fascinant, que l'on s'identifie ou non au personnage principal. Je le recommande fortement, et laissez vous porter dans ce monde de souffrance et d'addictions!
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    Par Nashou le 11 décembre 2011
    Format: Broché Achat vérifié
    Le produit est arrivé en temps et dans l'état décrit par le vendeur. Tout s'est très bien passé. Excellent vendeur.
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    Commentaires client les plus utiles sur (beta) 3.6 étoiles sur 5 2.222 commentaires
    598 internautes sur 673 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
    1.0 étoiles sur 5 Description of treatment is fiction not fact. 17 novembre 2005
    Par Macazonian - Publié sur
    Format: Broché
    I have worked with alcoholics and addicts for many, many years, and I worked for the Hazelden Foundation, the treatment program the author indicates he attended. His description of the events in treatment never could have happened. All treatment centers are strictly regulated by a licensing board called the Joint Commission as well by state laws. What James Frey describes is in gross violation of these strict standards of accreditation. The treatment center would have been severely disciplined or shut down. Hazelden is one of the finest treatment centers in the world and is the pioneer of treatment as we know it today. Their treatment program is centered on respecting the dignity of each patient and preserving the safety of all who are admitted.

    James Frey would not have been admitted into treatment in such terrible medical condition without first being sent to a hospital for care and then admitted only after the hospital staff granted medical clearance. He wouldn't have been given stitches in his face at the treatment center, because treatment centers aren't licensed to give that level of medical care. Yes, recovering people can use anesthetic. Anesthetic is not an addictive drug, so no one needs to endure painful dental work or stitches or surgery without masking the pain. Pain medications (which are addictive) are used when necessary, such as after major surgery.

    There are no men in white coats with syringes tackling people who misbehave. People in treatment don't behave in ways the author describes. People are mostly kind, caring and thoughtful. Disagreements are generally mild in nature, and mood-swings are usually the worst we must contend with. When someone behaves in an unacceptable manner, they are asked to change their behavior or be discharged. Treatment romances are never tolerated because they are a precursor to relapse and disrupt the entire unit. Physical violence always results in discharge, as does destruction of property. A patient would be asked to leave immediately if he destroyed a room full of furniture, for example. (Accomplishing this feat, by the way, would be extremely difficult because the furniture is made of heavy wood, built for endurance.)

    The author's assertion that a doctor left the ER without treating him and then drove him to an airport is equally astonishing. Putting a patient on an airplane, where he cannot access emergency medical care while suffering from severe head injuries is unthinkable. That the airlines allowed James Frey on the plane is impossible to believe. These things simply aren't allowed to happen for very obvious and good reasons.

    It goes without saying that counselors don't drive patients to crack houses-or anywhere else-while they are in treatment. Doing so would result in immediate dismissal. Never have I heard people screaming in detox, nor would someone be left lying on a floor overnight. Patients are well monitored and vitals are checked on a regular basis to be certain that blood pressure isn't dangerously high due to the body coming off alcohol and/or drugs. Without close monitoring, we would risk strokes or heart attacks. It is also surprising that almost everyone the author went through treatment with has died or disappeared in rather unorthodox ways. I've never know of this to happen and none of my colleagues, whom I've asked, have ever heard of this either. We sometimes hear that one individual out of a treatment group dies, but even that is fairly rare. People do relapse after treatment, but that happens primarily because people don't follow their aftercare plan.

    I hope if you read this book, you will keep in mind that this description of treatment is fiction. No one who is thinking of going into treatment to seek help should be afraid, thinking they will experience things similar to what the author has described. All reputable treatment centers offer caring support, preserve patients' dignity and will not allow one person's behavior jeopardize the wellbeing of all others. As for the author's assertion that he has stayed sober without the help of AA or other 12 step groups, that may be true, but only about 2% of addicted people find this method successful. And of that 2%, most continue to behave in much the same way they did when they were drinking or using drugs, only without the alcohol or drugs in their systems. Sometimes they are so unhappy and angry being "dry" because, without a recovery program, they haven't learned to find contentment in sobriety, and their behavior becomes more intolerable than before. The main purpose of AA isn't just to quit drinking or taking drugs, but to become a better person in recovery.
    108 internautes sur 120 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
    1.0 étoiles sur 5 Bogus Reviews!!!! 28 décembre 2005
    Par Celso - Publié sur
    Format: Broché
    It's true. Most of the positive reviews come from people working for the publisher and the author. It's an industry practice as Amazon is one of the best places to sell books and advertize them. Take a look at the following reviews from 2003, and reviews from 2005. Why would anyone spend 2.5, going on 3 years posting the same review under different names if they did not have a vested interest in the sales of this book.

    Readers Addiction, April 17, 2003
    Reviewer:Helen L. Motley (Ohio) - See all my reviews
    I was up 'til midnight reading Frey's Million Little Pieces. I woke again at 4am and read until my alarm went off.

    Solid five star book, December 1, 2005
    Reviewer:Donna Freuhaf (Pell Lake, WI) - See all my reviews
    I was up 'til midnight reading Frey's Million Little Pieces. I woke again at 4am and read until my alarm went off.
    Absorbing, fresh, and never cliched, April 17, 2003
    James Frey has been getting a ton of press and hype over his debut work, and rightly deserved.

    Harrowing and enlightening, bright and dark all at once, October 4, 2005
    Reviewer:Thomas Watkins (Freemont, CA) - See all my reviews
    James Frey has been getting a ton of press and hype over his A MILLION LITTLE PIECES, and rightly deserved
    Please try this book, December 10, 2005
    Reviewer:L.N. (Oxford, MS) - See all my reviews
    After having read James Frey's debut novel, my answer is an unequivocal and resounding yes.

    A writer for a generation?, April 20, 2003
    Reviewer:Dan Glasser (Los Angeles, CA United States) - See all my reviews
    After having read James Frey's debut novel, my answer is an unequivocal and resounding yes.
    Standing on its own boards, April 17, 2003
    The autobiographical memoir seems to have become the latest trend, mirroring the rise in reality tv (but more intellectual, of course!)

    A Million little stars, December 26, 2005
    Reviewer:Sandra Frohm (San Francisco, CA) - See all my reviews
    The autobiographical memoir seems to have become the latest trend, mirroring the rise in reality tv (but more intellectual, of course!)

    One review that stood out was,

    Deeply personal book, April 11, 2005
    Reviewer:amitnaiz (Walla Walla, WA USA) - See all my reviews
    A Million Little Pieces is certainly one of the best books I've written in quite a long time.

    I just thought it was interesting how the author of this critique stated it is one of the best books "I"VE" ever written. I'msure it was probably just a typo, but Frey is a compulsive liar, I wouldn't put it past him.
    102 internautes sur 113 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
    1.0 étoiles sur 5 Plagarism? 28 janvier 2006
    Par Avid Reader - Publié sur
    Format: Broché
    Having read Another Day in Paradise by Eddie Little, it became very obvious to me that James is living vicariously through Eddie's book. You must read Eddie's book and then you will see how clearly AMLP parallels the Little book. From the same basic characters to their almost identical pasts, I found myself becoming angered at this blatant rip-off. Lilly IS Rosie, right down to the description of the gang rape scenes in both books. As a result, I just do not believe anything in James book actually happened, other than the fact that he spent time in a rehab facility. It was all a fantasy based in large part on Eddie Little's book.

    Another tip-off - on Oprah's site there is an interview with James and someone asked him the significance of the scribbles at the start of each chapter. James stated that he had wanted to start each chapter with a full page of pure black, but it would have been cost-prohibitive. Hmmmmm, Another Day in Paradise starts each chapter with a page printed half in black. Coincidence, no?

    This is just so wrong.
    219 internautes sur 250 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
    1.0 étoiles sur 5 A Million Pieces of Crap 14 juin 2003
    Par Xzavious Reinbold - Publié sur
    Format: Relié
    This is an amazingly bad book.
    Ridiculously pretentious,vain and stupid, James Frey wallows in self-pity for many pages.
    And his Writing Style is a satirist's dream:

    He thinks he's "Edgy" but He just doesn't Know how to Write.
    To write, in Words.

    How to write. Words, words, words.

    I'm James Frey.
    I'm repeating myself. Myself, myself, My Self.
    My Important Self. My Edgy, Drug-Addicted Self.
    Look At Me!
    My Rich Parents sent Me to Rehab and I'm Really Edgy!
    I'm Writing.
    In Sentence Fragments.
    That Repeat and Repeat and Repeat. And I'm really Edgy and Maudlin. And in the End I Hug and Hug and Hug and My Stupidity is really an Inspiration to Everyone.
    One star: Good for a laff.
    223 internautes sur 255 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
    1.0 étoiles sur 5 Finally, what I really think 11 janvier 2006
    Par Louise the Reader - Publié sur
    Format: Broché
    I am an alcoholic, sober for ten years. I went through detox, rehab, AA, and all the rest. When I read this book a couple of months ago, I thought, "This is just nothing like what I went through." I bought it and intended to pass it along to my AA friends to share, but after I finished it, I didn't want to give it to anyone. It would scare anyone who was considering going into treatment, and that's a shame because treatment isn't like that. If I had pulled any of the stunts he did, I would have been out on my bum. I think the author is just needing attention badly--thus the rebellion and bad boy stunts that he tells about. In my experience, alcoholics/addicts with his attitude end up drinking/using again, because they have such a case of terminal specialness--the 12 steps work for those other losers, but I'm better than that, stronger than that. I don't need those crutches. This book is just sensationalism of the worst kind. I'm sorry I donated to James Frey by buying this book. I threw it away so it wouldn't fall into anyone else's hands.
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