I haven't read the book, and may or may not (I have a few more to work thru before I get to this one). However, I think it's telling that the NY reviewer loved the book, while the LA reviewer complained that Frey doesn't seem to know or care about LA. If I read a book based on the reviews, I'd have to listen more to Ulin's warning that Frey didn't capture the city at the core of his story.

I won't read the book. I think Frey is a dishonest person out to make a buck and I have no desire to waste my time helping him. There are too many good books out there by good, honest writers for me to bother with Frey.

I loved James Frey's memoirs and didn't really care when I found out some of it was made up, because the made-up stuff wasn't the important stuff in the books. So yes, I think James Frey is a good writer and I'll give this new book a try. But not until it comes out in paperback.

James Frey's career as a "memoirist" only came after he failed to sell his story as fiction, a Catch-22 situaion I ran into this past year when a comic pop-culture faux-memoir about the pop music industry was deemed "Too real" by a couple of agents and another broadly hinted that he'd handle it if I pretended that I''d worked in the music industry, hint, hint... I finally sidelined it, not being willing to go down that road. Just another day in the office, eh, what?

I probably won't read it just because there are too many other books I want to read more, but we need to blame ourselves as much a him for the dishonesty. Our desire for "dirt," the idea that a book is more compelling if it's a true story or based on a true story not only denigrates literature, but leads a writer with a brning desire to publish into tempation.