I must admit that a little shiver of glee rippled down my spine when I was carrying the newspaper in at 5:45 on Tuesday. My morning routine allows me to take the edge off my anticipation of the morning's news by quickly glancing at the Front Page as I walk back down my long driveway. When I looked on Tuesday, I saw a picture that looked familiar. I had seen the same picture on Monday when I was reading the Lifestyle page. It had been a review of a soon-to-be-released book. I savor the opportunity to find grammatical or editorial errors in books and newspapers, so I naturally thought, "The N&O screwed up!!! They ran the same article two days in a row!!!"
As I took my first sip of coffee and settled in to read the news, I saw that there is one very quick way to move from the front page of the Lifestyles section to the Front Page...LIE!!!
The fascinating review I read on Monday described an author who grew up in foster care on the violent streets of gangland L.A. She survived and went on to write about the experiences in a way that would make middle-of-the-road America understand the sociology of the urban gang culture. Or, maybe not.
Apparently, the author's sister read the same article I did on Monday and ratted her out to the press and to her publisher! Now, just for the record...and I haven't confirmed this directly...I can assure you that if I did what this author did and embellished or outright fabricated a childhood, MY SISTER WOULD HAVE SWORN TO IT!!! That's what sisters do. They serve as your alibi. They help you hide the body. Actually, I have several friends who would have done the same. And my mother probably would have too, as long as I didn't say anything too nasty about her that might get her kicked out of one of her Mah Jongg games.
On the same day that I read the original review, I received an e-mail from Borders. (Apparently they haven't heard that I am a die-hard supporter of Quail Ridge Books and Booksense.)
"As the sound of gunfire faded, people started to come out of everywhere, running from the corners of the park, stepping out of houses and apartment buildings. I could hear women screaming, and a baby crying. I knew that with the number of bullets I had heard, someone had to have been hit. My head felt hot and light, as though I might faint as I crossed the street and pushed my way through the commotion."
A passage like this one has the rhythm and pacing of a well-written novel of intensity and suspense. As you read it, you feel that you are "I" and you are hearing and feeling the terror of the protagonist. Does it matter whether it's fiction or non-fiction? I would have to say, probably not. A fictional novel has as much impact on me as a memoir or a piece of historical non-fiction.
So, my questions to you are: Would a book like this have less interest and impact for you than a work of fiction, or perhaps a "memoir" of a fictional or conglomerate character, about the same topic? Do you think this book should still be released and categorized as a different genre? Do you think it would be wrong for the author and publisher to profit from this story because of the attempt to put one over on readers? Or, for the very cynical out there, do you think the publisher participated in the fabrication of the author's background in view of the market for memoirs? Discuss!
Di
Comments