Memoirs are Read for the Sordid Details
While waiting at the Chapter's Bookstore cashier to buy a book several months ago, my eye caught the bright blue cover of A Million Little Pieces, the now infamous Oprah Book Club-elect.
A woman in front of me started singing its high praises, and I asked what it was about.
'Oh, about a drug addict.' she said.
'Does he get better at the end?' I asked.
She didn't seem to think that was important as much as him writing about his experience.
I really think that is what all these Oprah Book Club fans think. Not about the positive outcome, but rather the gory details.
I decided to pass this book, not even bothering to read the back cover.
Sure enough, the "gratuitous sex and violence", as one journalist put it, must have been the attractions in this book. After all, those are the parts the writer embellished in his "memoir".
So much for memoirs acting as “self-help”. All people want is the sordid details.
