She claimed to be a white woman raised in poverty by a black foster mother. She watched her foster brother die after being shot by gang members. The woman, Barbara Jones (pseudonym for Margaret Seltzer), also claimed to be selling drugs for an LA gang. It’s a totally bizarre tale set forth in her memoir, Love and Consequences. And it’s all fake, according to a newspaper report. Thanks to her sister, who ratted her out, Seltzer’s book is now being recalled. Read it here.
This is what ticks me off about the lack of ethics in our industry. Shame on Seltzer for lying. Shame on her for deceiving us and for deceiving her publisher, whom I bet will now employ at least one fact checker for every nonfiction manuscript. What’s upsetting is that if this kind of issue continues, how long before publishers say “no thanks” to all memoirs and cut back seriously on nonfiction because they can’t afford to employ so many researchers?
A smaller chunk of the blame must land on the publisher, Penguin Group. While I don’t think it’s their responsibility to police manuscripts, there should’ve been one look into Seltzer’s past – a record from high school, an old address, anything – that could have disspelled her claim instantly. Unfortunately, ethical behavior cannot be assumed these days. It must be required.
Seltzer’s not the first to sell fiction as nonfiction, but she’s definitely making money from a purely fictional story. So that begs the question – if it’s fiction, why didn’t she market it as such? Because, folks, we want to believe. We want to buy her story, and stories like hers. We want to be shocked, amazed, entertained. We want to live vicariously. We can do that in fiction, sure. But somehow, a “real” story seems to get our juices stirred just a little more.
Call me old fashioned, but I think lying in print is wrong. Silly, huh? Have I lied in print? Yes. I’ve not admitted to my weight on a few forms. I don’t know that I’d readily admit my age on paper, either. But to make up a childhood or to deceive readers just to sell books? That hurts not only your publisher and your readers, but it leaves an ugly stain on the industry.
For me, personally — I wouldn’t have bought it as a memoir. I’m tired of people being rewarded for making lousy choices, which is what publishing yet another memoir of “look at what a bad life I had and how many bad things I did” is.
Yet, if it was labelled fiction. I’d have considered it. Maybe not bought it, but considered it.
I agree — the lack of ethics is appalling. But maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing if a lot of these memoirs weren’t published. How about some memoirs from people who actually make a positive difference in the world?
You know, this trend is so disturbing. I just read last week about a woman (then girl) who wrote a “memoir” about escaping the terrors of the Holocaust by running with a pack of wolves. Turns out, she made the whole story up and is just admitting to it now. I’ll have to look up the title of this one for you.
The title of the book I mentioned was Misha: A Mémoire of the Holocaust Years, with a link to the news article about it.
Thanks, Kathy. I’ll check it out.
Devon, I have to agree. Memoirs in general rarely attract me because of exactly what you said – sort of the attitude of “look at my bad choices and pay me for living through it”. The exceptions – Mary Karr and Annie Dillard. Beyond that, I’ve not found any worth finishing.
I’m all for more positive reads. I remember buying a memoir of a somewhat famous author, and I could not get past chapter one. Yet another depressing account of a “poor me” life.
I do like memoirs, but I tend to enjoy those about people with generally ordinary lives who pull something incredible out of simple experiences. My absolute favorite book is Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life. For me, it’s the epitome of what a memoir should be: real, beautifully written, and poignant.