The book "A Million Little Pieces" is chock full of literary elements. For starters, the title in itself. The title can easily contrast to the narrator, a drug-abusing alcohol-addicted sex-deprived "messed-up" individual whose life is in shambles, or, "a million little pieces." The book starts off with a poem about a young man going to an elder who had broken an object and had it in a million little pieces:
The Young Man came to an Old Man seeking counsel.
I broke something, Old Man.
How badly is it broken?
It's in a million little pieces.
I'm afraid I can't help you.
Why?
There's nothing you can do.
Why?
It can't be fixed.
Why?
It's broken beyond repair. It's in a million little pieces.
This poem is about for someone young seeking help from one who's had experience in the world. What the young man has broken remains unnamed, but when mentioned that it was broken "into a million little pieces," the old man tells him it cannot be fixed, as it is beyond repair. The poem is undeniably a metaphor for, in the eyes of this certain elder, who could be compared to old man Time, how someone's life cannot be repaired once messed up so much it is, again, in a million little pieces. The constant asking of "why, why, why?" can be compared to how said person's ruin life can be pondered upon, why and how you can repair it to no avail. Although a pessimistic view of such a person's life, it is all too real.
This book is a self-told story of James Frey, said "mess-up," and his time recovering from a lifetime's worth of drugs, alcoholism, and lost love once sent to one of the most expensive rehabilitation clinics in America with a patient success rate of a little over 10%. The issue of drug and alcohol addiction is a touchy social subject, and talk of those sent to rehabilitation clinics and is often taboo. In this book he delves into his experiences and memoirs in rehabilitation including his meeting of Lily, an ex-prostitute whose life at that point had been similar to his, full of abuse and addiction.
The format in which the book is written can be perceived as a blocky style, with no quote marks, full sentences or explanation upon whom is talking. At some point it is difficult to tell if he is speaking of present occurances or going into a flashback. Another time he runs on a sentence for nearly a page explaining the white pain of a root canal without anaesthesia. He may have written this book because of how the story corelated with his state of mind during these occurences: full of incomplete findings and quick events all too important to conform to a "normal" book's formatting.
This poem is about for someone young seeking help from one who's had experience in the world. What the young man has broken remains unnamed, but when mentioned that it was broken "into a million little pieces," the old man tells him it cannot be fixed, as it is beyond repair. The poem is undeniably a metaphor for, in the eyes of this certain elder, who could be compared to old man Time, how someone's life cannot be repaired once messed up so much it is, again, in a million little pieces. The constant asking of "why, why, why?" can be compared to how said person's ruin life can be pondered upon, why and how you can repair it to no avail. Although a pessimistic view of such a person's life, it is all too real.
This book is a self-told story of James Frey, said "mess-up," and his time recovering from a lifetime's worth of drugs, alcoholism, and lost love once sent to one of the most expensive rehabilitation clinics in America with a patient success rate of a little over 10%. The issue of drug and alcohol addiction is a touchy social subject, and talk of those sent to rehabilitation clinics and is often taboo. In this book he delves into his experiences and memoirs in rehabilitation including his meeting of Lily, an ex-prostitute whose life at that point had been similar to his, full of abuse and addiction.
The format in which the book is written can be perceived as a blocky style, with no quote marks, full sentences or explanation upon whom is talking. At some point it is difficult to tell if he is speaking of present occurances or going into a flashback. Another time he runs on a sentence for nearly a page explaining the white pain of a root canal without anaesthesia. He may have written this book because of how the story corelated with his state of mind during these occurences: full of incomplete findings and quick events all too important to conform to a "normal" book's formatting.
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