James Frey is an Alcoholic, Drug Addict and a Criminal. This is made perfectly clear through out this entire book. If you're looking for a redemptive, inspiring story of recovery from addiction, this is not a book for you. If you're looking for a story about a man recovering from his demons, returning to the world clean of his addictions, this is not a book for you. If you're a former addict (of any kind, sex, drugs, booze, gambling, what ever), recovering, practicing, sober, straight, or what ever you want to call it, then this is the book you've always wanted to write. Finally someone had the balls to publish.

James Frey originally wanted to publish this book as fiction and it actually does read like a good novel, but not the “good” you're thinking of. We meet Mr. Frey as he regains consciousness on a plane somewhere over the Midwest. His face is a bloody mess, nose broken, teeth kicked in, and a hole in his cheek that he can put a finger through. He’s naked and wrapped in a blanket with no earthly idea how he got there. He’s covered in vomit, his own shit and piss and is generally a wreck, and the wheels have definitely come off his little red wagon, so to speak. Turns out he fell from a fire escape and used his head to break his fall on the way down.

James Frey has hit bottom.

In this painfully savage and brilliantly told memoir, James Frey finds new and exciting ways to demonstrate just how fucked up and strung out on drugs you can get, and still live. The body is a resilient thing and Mr. Frey pushes it to the outer limits. He’s been checked into a rehab clinic in Minnesota, you know the one, and what becomes of him while enrolled in his own recovery program is a stunning and horrifying cautionary tale. He’s in his early twenties and by the time your finished with this story you wonder how someone could do as much hard core narcotics and drink as much as Mr. Frey has, in such a short period of time. He started in his early teens, drinking, then smoking pot, stealing from people, his parents, his friends, his parents friends, stores, classmates, girlfriends. He’s given reckless a new name, redefined it.

Frey does not fit well into the rehab world, and it’s not a surprise, like most addicts, he’s hard headed, and stubborn, but he’s by far the most stubborn man I've ever encountered. Even the staunchest observer of the human condition can admit that there is something stronger than his own will. Frey refuses to believe that, and it saves his life. Early in the book he realizes that the “big book” of AA is nothing more than another addiction, another set of policies and procedures to get addicted to. Give up all of your substances, and you only replace them with the twelve steps. The first day he discovers the “big book” on his nightstand he tosses it out the window. Sadly for James, it returns. For the rest of the book, James discovers addicts all around him, and each of their stories is more brutal horrific than his. In a way, these stories humble him, the change is subtle, but very noticeable just the same. Leonard, a mobster on his last legs, befriends James and becomes a father figure. Matty an ex-boxer levitates towards James and Leonard, only to discover his past life atrocities are too great for any man to harbor. Miles is the last member of the rehab team to float towards James, he does so as his roommate. Miles is an ex-judge who helps James out of a legal jam, the only part of the book that you actually see coming. The group that forms, the clique rides as partner to James through most of this story. The only part that doesn't work out, (nothing works out in this story, in the typical fashion we're all used to) is his girlfriend Lilly. A crack whore, whose past goes beyond anything you've ever read, or seen in the movies. At times I thought Frey might be making this up, but then I realized that there is nothing this bad, that can be made up. Early in the book Frey needs to have re-constructive surgery on his nose, teeth and face. This means a trip to the dentist. Since he’s in rehab, he can't have any painkillers or sedatives. James Frey faced two root canals, and a had a cavity filled with out any drugs or pain killers. That’s as hard core as anything you're likely to come across. This book is a brutal examination about what it’s like to hit the very bottom of the world and start from scratch. When he recalls his past, he does so with an unflinching eye, leaving nothing out. When he tells his parents who know only half the truth, it breaks your heart. Everyone gets what he or she deserves in this story, Frey especially.

Do you need to have been to AA to understand this story? No. Do you need to have been to rehab? No. But it would definitely help you identify with James Frey. Throughout the book Frey talks about his fury. A rage that boils in him over certain things. Fueling his addiction, making it a roaring monster. The fury he discusses, discovers and finally controls is something that will scare a lot of people. One of the reasons I like this book so much is that I can identify with James Frey. I think there’s a little bit of James Frey in all of us. DIARY by Chuck Palahniuk Doubleday, 240 pages

You've wondered what he could do. Speculated about his talent. Guessed, (and it’s only a guess), about what he had in store for you next. Chuck Palahniuk through his own perseverance has become a literary icon, a touchstone of searing creativity. This can only be said after reading everything he’s written, even his latest, Diary, a bizarre meditation on the creative demons lurking in us all. From the moment you closed Fight Club, realized the secret, accepted the fact that you may never read a book as dangerous, or as brilliant, again. To the vapor less seconds of confusion you feel while wandering around your life wondering if you actually mean anything, after closing your copy of Diary.

Chuck Palahniuk continues to amaze, annoy, thrill and devastate his fans. This book proves what I've known all along. He writes on a completely different plain than the rest of the literate world.

This book is not unlike Lullaby, or Choke, even Survivor. What makes it different is the sharp edges Chuck’s style has developed. His other books, for the most part, take place here on planet earth. Diary takes place in the mind of Misty Klienman, in the form of her diary. Now. A diary is not supposed to be something that explains a life perfectly. It’s not a road map. An Indian guide, or even something spiritual. It’s a sort of laundry list of the day’s activities, a sorting out of what happened. Misty’s life is laid bare. What’s most stunning about this life? What makes’s it worth reading? The style I've alluded to. Mr. Palahniuk’s sharp wit. Those sentences that only he can write. That voice you know. It’s the stranger on the other end of the phone.

“What you don’t understand you can make mean anything.”

This diary toggles between Misty’s point of view. Her husbands, whose apparently been rendered comatose from carbon monoxide poisoning. To Chuck’s voice, even her mother in-law. Peter Wilmont is that character that all Palahniuk novels must contain. He’s the guy who tells you how it is. He’s the Tyler Durden of Diary. He’s Mr. Palahniuk’s alter ego. He’s the guy that does what the rest of us won’t. For some reason Palahniuk has decided to take his character’s through the vat of creativity and the torture of art school. Misty and Peter meet there, and the rest is history. Or a diary, as it were. We meet everyone in a flash back. Peter is only alive in the Diary. Peter is in a coma. Peter is having his life relived by Misty. She writes her diary faster than falling rain. This novel’s first twenty-five pages will leave you confused and bewildered. You won’t know whose speaking. When you do realize that Palahniuk has inserted himself in Misty’s diary, you’ll have a literary ah-ha moment. Similar to the Fight Club switchero.

This diary is so convincing that you’ll wonder if Palahniuk really wrote it. There’s a section at the very end that will leave you questioning this very fact. I’m sure he wrote this. Sure of it. There’s an island. A diary. A heroine. She’s an artist. Everyone thinks she’s the savior. Waytansea Island has hotel that Palahniuk sets his cast afloat in. He’s got more going in the short space of two-hundred and forty pages than most other writers can jam into eight-hundred pages.

“Everyone is in their own kind of coma.”

Misty paints because she’s been told to. Her frequency is hard to ignore. Even for the reader. Peter Wilmont likes her paintings so much; he wears them underneath his clothes. There first dates are like the first moments of life after death. Peter leads her to places she never would go to. Peter likes it both ways. Peter likes men and women. Peter likes Misty the artist. Peter wants to revive Waytansea Island. Or does he?

“Every four generations someone is born to make the island rich.”

Palahniuk uncovers the reality behind reality with this story. He chisels away at everything held sacred. Art. Fame. Creativity. Passion. This book fold’s in on it’s self like a perfect origami. Chuck Palahniuk has refined his craft to a point of polished brilliance. What’s scarier, his ability, or what he’s got planned for us next. I’m not sure if a novel will come along as interesting as this, for a long time to come. The rest of the world can have their Lovely Bones, and their James Patterson’s. I’m glad they’re happy with those mashed potato sandwiches. Me? I’ll take more of Mr. Palahniuk. Has it been two years since I started this column? Got something to say? Drop me a line!