I walk toward a door where a Nurse stands waiting for me. As I walk past her she is careful not to touch me and I am brought back from the happy afterglow of pachyderm memories and I am reminded of what I am. I am an Alcoholic and I am a drug Addict and I am a Criminal. I am missing my front four teeth. I have a hole in my cheek that has been closed with forty-one stitches. I have a broken nose and I have black swollen eyes. I have an Escort because I am a Patient at a Drug and Alcohol Treatment Center. I am wearing a borrowed jacket because I don't have one of my own. I am carrying two old yellow tennis balls because I'm not allowed to have any painkillers or anesthesia. I am an Alcoholic. I am a drug Addict. I am a Criminal.
A Million Little Pieces is a darkly fascinating read, an illicit stroll into a hopeless territory which many enter, and from which few return. It is a peek into the mind of the addict and into the horror that is addiction. In it, we watch as James Frey learns to live again, learns to be normal again. We see him develop honest and loving relationships with fellow patients who run the gamut of society - a mobster, a judge, a former boxing champion, a prostitute. We see him scorn the 12 steps and embrace Taoism, and we sense a level of self-will that he claims will keep him clean. And we know that up until now, a decade later, it has.
