While I do respect people who get pissed off at James Frey for lying about the details of his life in his memoir A Million Little Pieces, I do still hold the opinion that damn-- he wrote a fine book that kept me captivated and really affected me. When Oprah turned on him, and the world freaked out at him, I felt bad for him and wrote him a lil email. And he wrote me back, which I thought was just great.
So, at the dawn of his purely fictional novel Bright Shiny Morning, I was psyched to go with Flip Flop Girl to hear him speak. Flip and I both grimaced when people in the audience harped on the Oprah debacle too much. A lot of people said shit and fuck. A young boy asked him if it was depressing to sit in once place too long (no). Another man asked him about his hairline (genetics). A couple recovering addicts told them they appreciated and identified with his memoir, truthiness or not. He said he disg Philadelphia and drove here a few months ago after seeing Rocky just to run the steps. Norman Mailer gave him support. And I got up the balls to ask a question (q: "what are you working on next?" a: a story about a guy who has epileptic seizures which lead him to believe he's the Messiah).
After, Flip stood by my side as we waiting in the looooong line. She even took a picture of me and Mr. Frey. And I told him I thought it was cool that he emailed me back that time long ago. And he wrote me a nice note in the book.
MetroMcVey: I'm sorry I didn't tell you about it sooner. But Mo Cheeks alerted me to the reading late in the day, and it was a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants decision.
Moral of the story: if I am picked for Book Club, I know my book choice.
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