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James Frey

A Million Little Pieces Kindle Edition

by James Frey (Author) Format: Kindle Edition

4.3 5,870 ratings

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NATIONAL BESTSELLER • A gripping memoir about the nature of addiction and the meaning of recovery from a bold and talented literary voice. “Anyone who has ever felt broken and wished for a better life will find inspiration in Frey’s story.” —People

“A great story.... You can't help but cheer his victory.” —Los Angeles Times Book Review

By the time he entered a drug and alcohol treatment facility, James Frey had taken his addictions to near-deadly extremes. He had so thoroughly ravaged his body that the facility’s doctors were shocked he was still alive. The ensuing torments of detoxification and withdrawal, and the never-ending urge to use chemicals, are captured with a vitality and directness that recalls the seminal eye-opening power of William Burroughs’s Junky.

But A Million Little Pieces refuses to fit any mold of drug literature. Inside the clinic, James is surrounded by patients as troubled as he is—including a judge, a mobster, a one-time world-champion boxer, and a fragile former prostitute to whom he is not allowed to speak—but their friendship and advice strikes James as stronger and truer than the clinic’s droning dogma of How to Recover. James refuses to consider himself a victim of anything but his own bad decisions, and insists on accepting sole accountability for the person he has been and the person he may become—which runs directly counter to his counselors' recipes for recovery.

James has to fight to find his own way to confront the consequences of the life he has lived so far, and to determine what future, if any, he holds. It is this fight, told with the charismatic energy and power of One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest, that is at the heart of A Million Little Pieces: the fight between one young man’s will and the ever-tempting chemical trip to oblivion, the fight to survive on his own terms, for reasons close to his own heart. "

Print length

448 pages
Language

English
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Publisher

Anchor
Publication date

May 11, 2004
File size

2427 KB
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Editorial Reviews

Review

“Gripping.... A great story.... You can't help but cheer his victory.” —Los Angeles Times Book Review

“James Frey's staggering recovery memoir could well be seen as the final word on the topic.” —San Francisco Chronicle

“The most lacerating tale of drug addiction since William S. Burroughs' Junky.” —The Boston Globe

“Frey’s book sets itself apart ... spare, deadpan language belies the horror of what he’s describing — a meltdown dispatched in telegrams.” —The New York Times Book Review

“Anyone who has ever felt broken and wished for a better life will find inspiration in Frey’s story.” —People

“Ripping, gripping.... It’s a staggeringly sober book whose stylistic tics are well-suited to its subject matter, and a finger in the eye of the culture of complaint.... Engrossing.” —Philadelphia Inquirer

“A frenzied, electrifying description of the experience.” —The New Yorker

“We finish A Million Little Pieces like miners lifted out of a collapsed shaft: exhausted, blackened, oxygen-starved, but alive, thrillingly, amazingly alive.” —Minneapolis Star-Tribune

“One of the most compelling books of the year.... Incredibly bold.... Somehow accomplishes what three decades’ worth of cheesy public service announcements and after-school specials have failed to do: depict hard-core drug addiction as the self-inflicted apocalypse that it is.” —The New York Post

“Thoroughly engrossing.... Hard-bitten existentialism bristles on every page.... Frey’s prose is muscular and tough, ideal for conveying extreme physical anguish and steely determination.” —Entertainment Weekly

“Incredible.... Mesmerizing.... Heart-rending.” —Atlanta Journal-Constitution

“A rising literary star ... has birthed a poetic account of his recovery. [A Million Little Pieces is] stark ... disturbing ... rife with raw emotion.” —Chicago Sun-Times

“Frey will probably be hailed in turn as the voice of a generation.” —Elle

“We can admire Frey for his fierceness, his extremity, his solitary virtue, the angry ethics of his barroom tribe, and his victory over his furies.... A compelling book.” —New York

“An intimate, vivid and heartfelt memoir. Can Frey be the greatest writer of his generation? Maybe.” —New York Press

“Incredible.... A ferociously compelling memoir.” —The Plain Dealer

“Insistent as it is demanding.... A story that cuts to the nerve of addiction by clank-clank-clanking through the skull of the addicted.... A critical milestone in modern literature.” —Orlando Weekly

“At once devastatingly bleak and heartbreakingly hopeful.... Frey somehow manages to make his step-by-step walk through recovery compelling.” —Charlotte Observer

“A stark, direct and graphic documentation of the rehabilitation process.... The strength of the book comes from the truth of the experience.” —The Oregonian

“A virtual addiction itself, viscerally affecting.... Compulsively readable.” —City Paper (Washington, DC)

“Powerful ... haunting ... addictive.... A beautiful story of recovery and reconciliation.” —Iowa City Press-Citizen

“An exhilarating read.... Frey’s intense, punchy prose renders his experiences with electrifying immediacy.” —Time Out New York

“Describes the hopelessness and the inability to stop with precision.... As anyone who has ever spent time in a rehab can testify ... he gets that down too.” —St. Louis Post-Dispatch

“Frey comes on like the world’s first recovering-addict hero.... [His] criticism of the twelve-step philosophy is provocative and his story undeniably compelling.” —GQ

“[A] gruesomely absorbing account, told in stripped-down, staccato prose.” —Details

“Frey has devised a rolling, pulsating style that really moves ... undeniably striking.... A fierce and honorable work that refuses to glamorize [the] author’s addiction or his thorny personality.... A book that makes other recovery memoirs look, well, a little pussy-ass.” —Salon

Amazon.com Review

Book Description
At the age of 23, James Frey woke up on a plane to find his front teeth knocked out and his nose broken. He had no idea where the plane was headed nor any recollection of the past two weeks. An alcoholic for ten years and a crack addict for three, he checked into a treatment facility shortly after landing. There he was told he could either stop using or die before he reached age 24. This is Frey’s acclaimed account of his six weeks in rehab.

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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

--This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.

From the Back Cover

At the age of twenty-three, James Frey woke up on a plane to find his four front teeth had been knocked out. His nose was broken and there was a hole through his cheek. He had no idea where the plane was headed or what had happened over the preceding two weeks. He had been an alcoholic for ten years and a crack addict for three. When he checked into a treatment facility shortly thereafter, he was told he could either stop using or die before he reached twenty-four.

A Million Little Pieces is Frey's acclaimed account of his six weeks in rehab; fiercely honest and deeply affecting, it is one of the most graphic and immediate books ever to be written about addiction and recovery.

--This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.

From Booklist

*Starred Review* At 23, Frey allowed his parents to check him into a rehabilitation facility in Minnesota. An alcoholic and a crack addict, Frey had hit absolute rock bottom. The doctor at the rehab center told him another drinking binge might kill him. To Frey, who was vomiting blood and dreaming of copious amounts of drugs and alcohol, there didn't seem to be another option. And then, on the night he attempted his escape from the center, a fellow patient named Leonard stopped him. And thus began the horrible, hard climb to sobriety. Frey was inundated with success stories and 12-step dogma, but he continued to resist both AA and the idea that only a belief in a higher power can save someone who has fallen so far. Leonard remained a constant friend in Frey's struggle, sharing the story of his own tragic past and bolstering Frey's determination. Frey found a different kind of support in Lilly, a vulnerable young woman with whom he fell in love. Anger, hurt, love, and pain are all laid bare; his writing style is as naked and forthright as the raw emotions that life in the rehab center brings to the surface. Starkly honest and mincing no words, Frey bravely faces his struggles head on, and readers will be mesmerized by his account of his ceaseless battle against addiction. Kristine Huntley
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.

Review

'James Frey's utterly mesmerising account ! [is] easily the most remarkable non-fiction book about drugs and drug taking since Hunter S Thompson's Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas ! As a memoir, it is almost mythic. You can imagine it made epic by Martin Scorsese, the auteur of wayward American maleness in all its extremity ! Utterly compulsive' -- Observer 'Clear sighted and intellectually honest' -- Literary Review 'Excellent ! Frey's storytelling feels compulsive, involuntary ! poignant and tragic. The forthcoming film will almost certainly be a cult hit ! The good thing about Frey is that he writes as if he needs to; I hope his new compulsion thrives' -- William Leith, Spectator 'Startling and ultimately breath taking' -- Kirkus Reviews 'Frey really can write. Brilliantly. And if you don't think so, f*** you' -- London Evening Standard 'A heartbreaking memoir ! inspirational and essential' -- Bret Easton Ellis 'This book is definitely going to be huge ! There is no question that he's a good writer. As soon as you start reading the book, Frey's voice rings out. It's clear and sharp and turbocharged ! We love rehab memoirs. This is a good one. It might even be a great one' -- Independent 'An extraordinary and deeply moving book that will make you think about family, friendship, love, religion, death and perhaps most of all, the human spirit' -- Irish Sunday Independent 'Horribly honest and funny ! Read this immediately' -- Gus Van Sant 'James Frey spent ten years addicted to alcohol and crack before going into rehab at the age of 23. This unrelenting memoir of his recovery spares no detail. Luckily, he is a good writer -- indulgent and uncompromising' -- Metro 'Frey is selfish, egocentric, violent and pompous ... What redeems this insufferably bad mannered book is that, at the end of the day, Frey can write. Brilliantly' -- Scotsman 'Harrowing and unflinching ! This is not a book about drugs but about their aftermath ! Though definitely not for the faint hearted, Frey is often darkly and self deprecatingly funny. This is, in essence, a story of redemption and an incredibly moving one. This is a great book' -- Waterstone's Books Quarterly --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.

From the Inside Flap

At the age of twenty-three, James Frey woke up on a plane to find his four front teeth had been knocked out. His nose was broken and there was a hole through his cheek. He had no idea where the plane was headed or what had happened over the preceding two weeks. He had been an alcoholic for ten years and a crack addict for three. When he checked into a treatment facility shortly thereafter, he was told he could either stop using or die before he reached twenty-four.A Million Little Pieces is Frey's acclaimed account of his six weeks in rehab; fiercely honest and deeply affecting, it is one of the most graphic and immediate books ever to be written about addiction and recovery. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.

From Publishers Weekly

For as long as he can remember, Frey has had within him something that he calls "the Fury," a bottomless source of anger and rage that he has kept at bay since he was 10 by obliterating his consciousness with alcohol and drugs. When this memoir begins, the author is 23 and is wanted in three states. He has a raw hole in his cheek big enough to stick a finger through, he's missing four teeth, he's covered with spit blood and vomit, and without ID or any idea where the airplane he finds himself on is heading. It turns out his parents have sent him to a drug rehab center in Minnesota. From the start, Frey refuses to surrender his problem to a 12-step program or to victimize himself by calling his addictions a disease. He demands to be held fully accountable for the person he is and the person he may become. If Frey is a victim, he comes to realize, it's due to nothing but his own bad decisions. Wyman's reading of Frey's terse, raw prose is ideal. His unforgettable performance of Frey's anesthesia-free dental visit will be recalled by listeners with every future dentist appointment. His lump-in-the-throat contained intensity, wherein he neither sobs nor howls with rage but appears a breath away from both, gives listeners a palpable glimpse of the power of addiction and the struggle for recovery.
Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.

About the Author

James Frey is originally from Cleveland. He is also the author of My Friend Leonard. He is married and lives in New York.

--This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.

From School Library Journal

Adult/High School-Frey's high school and college years are a blur of alcohol and drugs, culminating in a full-fledged crack addiction at age 23. As the book begins, his fed-up friends have convinced an airline to let him on the plane and shipped him off to his parents, who promptly put him in Hazelden, the rehabilitation clinic with the greatest success rate, 20 percent. Frey doesn't shy away from the gory details of addiction and recovery; all of the bodily fluids make major appearances here. What really separates this title from other rehab memoirs, apart from the author's young age, is his literary prowess. He doesn't rely on traditional indentation, punctuation, or capitalization, which adds to the nearly poetic, impressionistic detail of parts of the story. Readers cannot help but feel his sickness, pain, and anger, which is evident through his language. Ken Kesey's One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest (Viking, 1962) seems an apt comparison for this work-Frey maintains his principles and does not respect authority at all if it doesn't follow his beliefs. And fellow addicts are as much, if not more, help to him than the clinicians who are trying to preach the 12 steps, which he does not intend to follow in his path to sobriety. This book is highly recommended for teens interested in the darker side of human existence.
Jamie Watson, Enoch Pratt Free Library, Baltimore
Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.

From AudioFile

A shatteringly good listen, A MILLION LITTLE PIECES is brought to life by Oliver Wyman's searing performance. Imagine a post-millennial Holden Caulfield with severe drug and alcohol dependence bulling his way through a world he hates and fears. This tersely poetic journal relates author Frey's experience of hitting bottom somewhere deep below sea level and finding himself a battered 23-year-old funneled to the country's best rehab facility, desperately hoping he can recover. Raw, graphic, intelligent, visceral, this work should be mandatory classroom fare and nominated for something! A sobering piece, not to be missed. D.J.B. Winner of AudioFile Earphones Award © AudioFile 2003, Portland, Maine-- Copyright © AudioFile, Portland, Maine --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.

From Library Journal

An alcoholic and crack addict so physically mauled by his indulgences that doctors marveled that he was still alive, Frey finally cleaned himself up at age 23. Here he takes full responsibility for nearly destroying himself.
Copyright 2002 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

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? --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.

Product details

ASIN ‏ : ‎ B000FC1MOQ
Publisher ‏ : ‎ Anchor (May 11, 2004)
Publication date ‏ : ‎ May 11, 2004
Language ‏ : ‎ English
File size ‏ : ‎ 2427 KB
Text-to-Speech ‏ : ‎ Enabled
Screen Reader ‏ : ‎ Supported
Enhanced typesetting ‏ : ‎ Enabled
X-Ray ‏ : ‎ Enabled
Word Wise ‏ : ‎ Enabled
Sticky notes ‏ : ‎ On Kindle Scribe
Print length ‏ : ‎ 448 pages
Page numbers source ISBN ‏ : ‎ 0307276902

Best Sellers Rank: #124,210 in Kindle Store (See Top 100 in Kindle Store)
- #37 in Twelve-Step Programs (Kindle Store)
- #168 in Twelve-Step Programs (Books)
- #290 in Substance Abuse Recovery

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4.3 5,870 ratings

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James Frey

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James Frey is originally from Cleveland, Ohio. His books A Million Little Pieces, My Friend Leonard, Bright Shiny Morning and The Final Testament of the Holy Bible have all been bestsellers around the world. He is married and lives in New York.

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4.3 out of 5

5,870 global ratings

5 star		63%
4 star		21%
3 star		9%
2 star		4%
1 star		4%

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David Seaman

this is VERY moving; will the rest of you grow up?

Reviewed in the United States 🇺🇸 on April 23, 2011

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Sometime in the early 90's i was sitting in Harvard Square having coffee with author, Tim O'Brien. We were talking about his best seller, "The Things They Carried". I took a deep breath and asked him, "Is this book true?"

He blew across the surface of his coffee and said to me, "None of that stuff happened," Then a sip. "But it's all true."

Some of you are saying, "how can this be so?' but i ask you to indulge me- as i will again later- because Mr. O'Brien is considered one of today's finest American writer's. True can mean so very much and given the memoir- a true account of the authors own life- or portion thereof- from the authors perspective one can hardly expect the facts to be such as a primary and secondary source biography of Thomas Jefferson. Clinical fact and emotional fact are two different things. Let me show you:

Think of one of the worst things that ever happened to you. For half of you this could well be your divorce. Some of you, the loss of a love one through death; some of you it could be the battler with a horrible disease. Regardless, pick it, stick with it and stay with me.

If I asked you to write me a 5,000 word description of your last seven days living with your ex-spouse and then asked him/her to do the same, will you tell me that I will receive two identical documents? I should hope not, because were that the case, you could have saved the marriage, but the truth is that you won't tell the same story and neither of you will have lied. You've heard the cliché' "there are three sides to every story." People with guilt believe that this means the truth, his lies and her lies (or any facsimile there-of) where what this cliché' means is that there are the base facts; not at all affected by human emotion. Then his story will be peppered by his past emotions, experiences and the tone of her voice. Her story will be peppered with memories of comments her mother made, or body image issues or some scene from a movie she saw years ago. No emotion stands alone and our recollection of events are not sterile and without other influences. So when writing a memoir such as "A Million Little pieces' not only did Mr. Frey write with the Tim O'Brien philosophy but he wrote based on how he remembered things.

Regardless, i was so moved by this book that when 'THE CONTROVERSY" first began I said, "I just don't care." And the, as a writer myself, I thought about the fifteen pages it would take for me to get to the truth about an event from myt childhood and how, after an hour of thinking, I was able to get to the very same truth by altering some of the events leading up to it I decided to do the latter. After all, if my goal is to get to the truth, does it matter what road I used to get there? some may say that it does, but if my point is to tell of how my grandmother was taken away by ambulance because she took an entire bottle of Seconal when I was in seventh grade does it matter that I had to behave bravely because I was babysitting for the first time and it was the daughter of the farm hand who had found my grandmother and how hard it was for me to control the lump in my throat because of the huge back story having to do with this farm hand or could I simply find another way to get to the lump in my throat without bringing in the entire story of the farm hand?

I saved my readers fifteen pages and a lot of information that had little to no bearing on the plot and the importance of what I wanted to say came through just as beautifully. In fact, because I did not force my reader to read paragraph after paragraph of back story about the farm hands bizarre connection to my family the reader was STILL READING when it was time to get to the real truth.

Mr. Frey, thank you for your brilliant and beautiful book. In regard to the controversial press let me offer this quote from Joyce Carol Oats: "The punishment for being a writer is literary critics."

Hang in there, Mr. Frey. The rest of you: read the book to discover the controversy; read the book because it is remarkably well written; read the book because I've given you plenty of reasons to do so; read the book because in a world full of hate it's nice to find some beauty. Don't let someone other than yourself decide for you.

13 people found this helpful

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Ace

Great story told

Reviewed in the United States 🇺🇸 on May 25, 2023

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Whether fiction or nonfiction, held my interest until the end.

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Austin Hofer

My favorite book ever but came looking like it’s been used

Reviewed in the United States 🇺🇸 on March 20, 2023

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I absolutely love this book, my favorite book of all time. But it came in the mail today and looks like it has been used and has weird smudges on the front of some unknown substance. This was such a disappointment because I ordered this one to replace my old copy that I lost and it’s a let down to expect a good clean and crisp book to get one that’s not of that expectation.

2 people found this helpful

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Marsha Marks

A Flight Attendants recommendation

Reviewed in the United States 🇺🇸 on November 21, 2005

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As an author myself, and a Flight attendant with lots of time to read...on layovers...I'm always looking for the next good book. One way I determine "the next good book" is to watch what my passengers bring on the airplane to read. Then I ask them if they like the book and to give me a short review. If more than one passenger is reading the same book - I note that and if several are reading the same book - I note that and think, wow, there must be something to this book. On my last flight most of the readers were reading the same book A MILLION LITTLE PIECES, by James Frey.

And they were all deeply and profoundly touched by the book.

And while they all RAVED about the book, their reviews all came with warnings. "The book is edgy, and sobering (no pun intended)".

So, I decided to check the book out, but because I believe in the old pharse 'it's not what you say, it's the way that you say it...'I wanted to read a taste of Frey's writing before I spent my money, so I went to Amazon.com and searched inside the book. I was instantly hooked. Ordered it and then the book arrived and I can't put it down. But, like other amazon.com reviewers here - I HAD to occassionaly put the book down, and step back and breath and deal with the sad/hard/real/devistating things Frey has to say.

I lOVED HIS FIRST PERSON TENSE WRITING! LOVED IT. And I praise the editor who left it in it's tense!

I have never been in a Detox center, or known anyone who was addicted to anything stronger than food, or shopping - at least anyone who wanted to talk about their addiction. And unlike Frey, (who disdains Christianity) I have a deep abiding faith. But, I have to tell you that of all the books I've ever read about pain and overcoming a past which weighs us down - (which I am working to do)...of all the books I've ever read about difficult times and rising above those times, other than the Bible - Frey's book has helped me most! It has helped me realize that blaming others for times I was a victim is futile. It has helped me understand why my friend who weighs 300 lbs at 5'4" and has already had stomach reduction surgery and then overroad that surgery, really does mean it when she says she can't help it -- that she really believes she has no control over her weight. Frey's book has helped me see inside the mind of someone who is addicted. And I am grateful. I am so grateful, I want to say, a prayer, "Dear God, thank you for this book. And O God, let other's read it and be helped. And God, please let James Frey stay sober. And Jesus, even your own brother's didn't believe in you, so I know you understand when James Frey doesn't believe in you either. Amen. Love Marsha "

10 people found this helpful

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Chris

Disingenuous nonsense, not autobiographical

Reviewed in the United Kingdom 🇬🇧 on June 18, 2019

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This was over-laboured, indulgent nonsense. I read it not knowing anything about the author and throughout I kept telling myself, this guy is fake. I don’t believe this happened. Then I Googled him and it turns out his “autobiography” is not all that autobiographical. He made up huge chunks for shock value and to win a publishing deal. He later admitted to the whole thing. I have issues with material being presented as factual deliberately to mislead the reader and the book struck me as disingenuous early on.

40 people found this helpful

wew152

Someone should've said this book isn't true in the reviews

Reviewed in the United Kingdom 🇬🇧 on June 19, 2019

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I wouldn't have bought this book had I known that the author made up and embellished certain passages in the story. I was half way through and riveted by the story when I read an article about the author being less than honest with several key facts. I do not wish the author ill , and his recovery is very real, but it is disappointing for readers who have bought a factual book in good faith, to find out that key passages of it are fiction.

30 people found this helpful

FromMarge

Gritty pseudo-autobiography of crime, addiction and recovery

Reviewed in the United Kingdom 🇬🇧 on October 15, 2019

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This book is a 500 page stream of consciousness story about addiction, alcoholism and crime, with the obligatory mafia boss, enemy and love interest thrown in to complete the formula. However, I found it really compelling and although it's been established that the book is fiction, the subject matter feels very very real and honest. The obsessive screaming need to fill an empty void is a real struggle for addicts in recovery, self-harm or release through overeating, the inner dialogue of hate and defeat and determination is so relatable. The book has its cheesey moments, but there is a reason that treatment centres prevent exclusive relationships between clients, and here we see why.
The little smatterings of the Tao Te Ching, the over-the-top horror stories (root canal, anyone?), and the existential struggle do all remind me of Shantaram, another book where an author's previous life of crime and drug use was embellished to become pseudo-autobiographical. It might seem like a stretch, A Million Tiny Pieces doesn't come close to the magic of Shantaram, but there are obvious parallels and similarities.

3 people found this helpful

J Gozzi

Compulsive, if emotionally bruising.

Reviewed in the United Kingdom 🇬🇧 on February 6, 2016

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Shocking, well written (I normally don't like American writing) and excoriating account of an ascent from the hell of drug and alcohol dependency of a young man. It wasn't easy or comfortable to read, but it was compulsive and wholly believable. It was also pretty much life-changing in that it has moderated my rather set and self-satisfied views about addiction of any kind. James Frey spares no detail, and I was surprised to discover his almost total lack of self-pity. I have no idea where he finds his strength, and I cannot express how much I admire his stance of accountability: no-one but he is to blame for his situation. I'm not sure why I bought this book in the first place - it is so far removed from my normal choice of reading matter, but I'm so glad I did. I think that if people were compelled to read this at a very young age, it might prevent more than a few falling into a similar destructive cycle. The ending, to my astonishment, had me crying, and I still feel (some months later) physically and emotionally bruised by this book.
If you can bear it, please read it. It is an education.

19 people found this helpful

MJ Burke

A good story

Reviewed in the United Kingdom 🇬🇧 on October 9, 2019

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It's a good story.

In the edition I read, James Frey starts with an apology to those people who were disappointed or felt they were mislead by his story. He explains why he did what he did - to make it a more interesting and coherent story - and a very real belief that he had no idea his book would become so popular. I have to agree on both counts. I’m not particularly bothered that some of the facts have been switched or altered in this memoir to enhance the reader’s experience: I appreciate it. Relationships don’t tend to develop in a linear and coherent way that is critical to keeping a reader’s interest and I think he does this well. To me it makes sense to alter facts and timelines to make a story read well. That said, maybe I would be more upset if I were considering this my bible for surviving addiction.

The story is good and strong when it comes. It starts with a bang and moves quickly through the start. You’re swept up in the excitement as everything is go, but then the pace slows. I forgive him this as it picks up again in the middle with an extremely relevant and insightful period - the nuts and bolts of what happens to someone in a facility to combat addiction - which he does extremely well. This sparks us into a more clinical understanding of addiction treatment and those tools used for recovery.

I felt a bit of drag with the long stretches of internal babble, and I think it takes a toll on pace, but I understand it’s purpose: put the reader in the chaotic and dark mind of an addict in the process of drying out. I can see how to some it will elevate the story in a stream of consciousness, but to me it just slowed things down. That’s not to say it isn’t authentic, just that writing a story is a give and take of authenticity and making sure you’re keeping your reader engaged. This is why I absolutely take no issue with his alteration of facts in order to keep the story interesting.

That said, I understand how for someone currently in the nightmare of addiction or recovery you want there to be no question of what is real.

I still gave it 5 stars even with my above reservations because it is, after all, a great and well told story.

The book he refers to for his inspiration - Tao Te Ching - sounds interesting.

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