Most of the time, I think people are more obsessed with story over facts. Politics is a perfect example. The war, too.
Other times, I think we are so obsessed with facts that we forget the story. I really don't give a shit that the high arcs of Frey's stories are embellished. In fact. Those parts didn't interest me anyway. I don't care that he changed the method of someone's suicide. It's not her real name; it doesn't besmirch her reputation or hurt anyone. I could give a fuck that he spent 2 days in jail instead of 2 months.
The reason I gravitated toward this story was for once--thank you--I can read about someone becoming sober without replacing their addiction to drugs and alcohol to their addiction to a group. I actually just enjoyed the day to day nuances of Frey's experiences in rehab and questioning the accepted methodology. I enjoyed that he didn't whine and bitch about his parents fucking him up, thus leading to drug abuse. That he didn't have to heroicize AA and castigate everything and everyone of his former life in order to get sober. I enjoyed the larger truth that he didn't have to trick himself to believe in God to make a change.
Also, strangely, the relationship between him and Lily was endearing. All that crap about "not getting involved" when you are getting sober has its merit; on the other hand, I think it's a time when you are most open, vulnerable, and accepting and there's beauty in that.
My brother was a heroin addict for 18 years. He kicked and fell in love at the same time. She didn't care about everything he did to get heroin. He didn't care about everything she did to cop. But they both saw in eachother all the beauty that everyone else stopped seeing. And 18 years later, they are still together. Maybe it's not religion, God, or AA, but it is something they can see, touch, and feel, unconditionally.
Shanlea