David Wadler’s Assorted Thoughts

Okay, I was wrong. The James Frey story still has legs…apparently very long ones. Oprah, who had publicly maintained her support for Frey, hosted the memoirist cum novelist on her show today along with publisher Nan Talese. I haven’t seen the episode, but reports are the Ms. O was quite forthcoming about being none-too-pleased. I think the logical conclusion to this whole ordeal would be a new book by James Frey. Oprah, I have three heartfelt, if trite words for you: You go, girl! And Jimmy, if you’re looking around, feel free to steal this intro:

I am a liar…a dirty liar.
In fact, I am lying right now…lying in a pool of my own vomit.
It’s time to cut the bullshit; it’s time to throw down. This I know. The people around me are reading Dave Eggers’s newest book. Assholes. I pull my Pulitzer prize down from the shelf in front of me. I stand up so I can reach it. There are UFOs and Bigfoots (Bigfeet?) everywhere. The aliens want to fight me and I punch one in what I think is his face, and he spits blood on me. Even on Planet Arnoamsnqa, I am the baddest man alive. This is nothing compared to the two hours I spent in the pen until my mom and dad picked me up. The four signs have aligned themselves behind me and I can see my own reflection in my puke. I accept myself, bearded and beautiful. Thus begins my redemption.

Today, Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld asserted that — contrary to reports — the U.S. Military is not overextended. He later went on to declare that the earth revolves around the sun and the gravity is a myth…contrary to reports.

Gawker correspondent Noelle Hancock wrote a helluva piece on crashing the premiere party for the new show, Love Monkey. Anyone who openly discourses on flatulence is good in my book. And her use of the royal “we” in so doing is perfect. An excerpt:

About halfway into the screening…there’s no sugarcoating it: Someone farts and it’s bad, y’all. People actually start backing out of the room. Secondhand fart will do that. Meanwhile, firsthand fart is actually kind of appealing. Admit it, you’ve even gone so far as to trap first-hand fart under the covers to try and make it last longer. And don’t even act like you don’t know what we’re talking about.

The James Frey fiasco is slowly winding down, but not before one significant development and the publication of a few interesting articles.

The development:
As I predicted — rather wryly, I might add — James Frey is looking at a class action lawsuit.

The articles (and some quick commentary):
Seth Mnookin, a former drug addict (or so he claims!), rips James Frey a new one in an article that he penned for Slate. It seems that Seth shares my opinion about Frey’s writing “style.” But beyond that, he takes the book to task on its own merits…or lack of them. The characters are clichéd, and unsurprisingly in light of Frey’s background as a Hollywood hack, actually seem to fit right into the archetypes that are so popular in modern American cinema. My favorite part of the piece is an excerpt from the book. Here’s the context: a rock star visits the rehab clinic and talks about how much money went up his nice — blah, blah, blah. More hackneyed bullshit. The wonderful hypocrisy of Frey’s mental response (if we go out on a limb and assume that such an event even took place) follows.

…I would tell him that if I ever heard of him spewing his bullshit fantasies in Public again, I would cut off his precious hair, scar his precious lips, and take all of his goddamn gold records and shove them straight up his ass.

I guess little Jimmy Frey wants to keep all of the bullshit fantasies to himself.

The other article that caught my eye was Marc Peyser’s piece in Newsweek. Peyser begins thusly:

James Frey is not a guy who backs away from a fight. He’s got a pit bull. He’s got a mean tongue, too.

Hold that thought; there is a big juicy hanging curveball coming up and I can’t resist the urge to swing from the heels.

A few years ago he told a reporter that Dave Eggers’s “A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius” “pissed me off because a book that I thought was mediocre was being hailed as the best book written by the best writer of my generation.”

This coming from the guy who wrote Kissing a Fool? Phew, had to do it. What can I say? I was weak and couldn’t resist the urge. But I digress and so should you. Peyser’s piece frustrates me because the author is clearly a pretty bright guy, but let’s get real here — James Frey’s whole persona is some unholy mix of affectation and acting.

Shooting fish (mackerel, the holy kind) in a barrel, but like the Slate article, the Newsweek piece pulls a little hypocritical nugget from A Million Little Pieces: “I don’t accept excuses for failure or deflect what is essentially a problem I have caused.”

Draw your own conclusions.