Lies & the Lying Liars Who Tell Them. Or Not.

The publishing world was rocked this January with the revelation that bestselling memoirist James Frey, author of Oprah pick A Million Little Pieces, was less than truthful in the gritty story of his alcohol and drug addiction. Not only did he apparently compress and slightly rearrange some of the details of his life of debauchery—techniques officially allowable in
memoir—but he actually falsified the reasons for being arrested, his treatment by the police and his jail time—a technique many would view as cheating or at least reclassify the book as a work of fiction.


Ironically, Frey’s factual indiscretions would probably have gone unnoticed had he not gained the attention of the person whose influence can make an unknown author’s career skyrocket literally overnight. I’m speaking of course of Oprah. Oprah departed from her current theme of reading
classics—the February pick is Night by Eli Weisel—to anoint Frey, bringing him on the show and praising him for his amazing courage and fortitude to turn his life around. Thanks to Oprah, Million Little Pieces has sold more than 2 million copies. I may be the only person who hasn’t read it.


Frey says that he first intended the book to be fiction and was turned down by nearly twenty publishers before Doubleday’s prestigious publisher Nan Talese bought it. Frey says Talese said she would only publish it as a work of nonfiction. Au contraire says Nan Talese. Had she known
about the problematic arrest scenes, she would have excised them. Meanwhile, Random House, which owns Doubleday, is officially telling people to return the book to their bookstore for a full refund if they feel, well, lied to. But “misspeakments” are so acceptable these days that no only
has no one returned the book to this bookstore thus far, but the book is still selling nearly 120,000 copies a week!


Meanwhile, in a parallel universe, another author of what has been billed as extremely autobiographical fiction turns out to not even exist. Until recently, JT Leroy, author of Sarah, and The Heart is Deceitful Above All Things, was understood to be a very young writer with a very hot literary reputation among such heavyweights as authors Dennis Cooper, Sharon
Olds, Bruce Benderson, and Mary Gaitskill. Courtney Love and Madonna have sung his praises. Gus Van Sant makes his movies. He has purportedly been writing since the age of 16 from his own life as a cross dressing child prostitute, former drug addict and HIV positive person. His reviews are lavish in their praise, comparing him to A. M. Homes, Genet and Flannery O’Connor, to name a few. Recently he has been saying he is transgender and is under hormone therapy to transition to female.


Problem is, almost no one, not these many high profile writers and musicians, not even his editor and original agent, had ever actually met Leroy in person. He quickly earned a reputation for being notoriously shy. A woman he said was Emily, who, with her husband, had taken him
into their home, most often spoke for him in public appearances. Royalty checks are sent to a corporation in Nevada. He doesn’t even give his own readings, but rather gets his well known literary friends to read for him. Eventually, he began to show up in public in a blonde wig, hat and dark glasses.


Then in October, writer Stephen Beachy wrote a lengthy expose in New York Magazine, pointing the finger at 40 year old rock musician Laura Albert as the creative mind behind these “brilliant” books. It was her sister in law, Savannah Knoop, who donned the wig, glasses and hat to play Leroy in public. Leroy’s website, updated as this newsletter goes to press, openly mocks the notion that he doesn’t exist, questions whether it even matters and plays with visitors by directing them to a page called “Laura Ingalls Gets Wilder” which, among other things, depicts
JT Leroy as a large hamster.


Literary hoaxes are not new. Jerzy Kozinsky wrote an “autobiographical novel” of his supposed childhood in Poland during the Holocaust, The Painted Bird”, which, like Leroy’s work, was hailed as a masterpiece but which also turned out to be fabricated. Later, Binjamin Wilkomirski wrote his Holocaust remembrance, Fragments, as a memoir, again widely celebrated and
again, completely fabricated. At least Wilkomirski himself was not a composite character.
What’s a reader to do? We expect memoir to be truthful. When key facts are invented, we feel duped. As for Leroy, his entire identity is a fabrication, one that pulls on the heartstrings of well meaning people who could have been offering their support to real victims of sexual abuse. Nan
Talese, Dennis Cooper, Frey and Leroy’s agents, all have to be embarrassed, to say the least.
But the fact of the matter is this: both Frey’s and Leroy’s (or Albert’s) books are popular. They sell well in their respective markets. They have subsequent books out, movie and publishing deals. Testimonials abound from people who say they have been helped by Frey’s book.
And while Albert’s darkly graphic fiction is not everyone’s cup of tea, both her books and her invented persona have been able to hold their own in the literary scene. For most readers, that’s probably good enough. But the question remains, now that we are unwilling to “pay no attention to the men behind the curtain”, will their magic seem as special?