Contrary to Frey's other books, this one has lots of facts in it. Lots of facts. And lots of words, over and over again. I bought this book because I had enjoyed Frey's writing, even after it came out that his autobiography was a work of fiction. This book is a cruel joke on the people who are willing to support him (despite Oprah) by purchasing his books. Nasty, not fun, a big downer. From the author of My Friend Leonard I expected better.
I am so sorry I wasted my credits on this book - I think I was taken-in by the publisher's hype. Anyway, this is an endless disconnected diatribe dwelling on the inequities among the residents of the City of Los Angeles and highlighting the moral depravity of the age. Oh, nothing very interesting, just meanness, homosexuality and crime all without passion or motivation. The book is interspersed with historical "fun facts" about the city which bear no apparent relationship to rest of the book. Maybe these are provided to make-up for the lack of a real plot. Most of the time, the reader's voice contains a cynical lilt which sounds very much like my teenage son trying to be cool. Occasionally however, the reader slips into a frenzy and screams at the listener. In case you didn't get it the first time, the author repeats some lines - a literary gimmick which he overuses. Oh, and beware of the musical interludes which are jarring, discordant and engineered to have breaks in the middle. Thanks to the music and the reader, this book wasn't even an effective sleep aid.
I am not sure if i enjoyed it. There were many characters, history facts about Los Angeles.
I have read Leonard, and million little pieces. They were great.