Lying About Dylan

In case you didn't hear about the latest literary fraud, last week, Jonah Lehrer admitted that he had invented quotes that he attributed to Bob Dylan in his book Imagine: How Creativity Works  Until this literary mischief, he seemed to have a lot going for him--he's a Rhodes scholar, a neuroscientist, and was a staff writer for "The New Yorker."  For whatever reason, he decided his book wouldn't be good enough with manufacturing the quotes he wanted Dylan to have said.

Now, he's resigned from "The New Yorker" and has issued a public apology.  According to the New York Times, Lehrer stated "The lies are over now. . . .  I understand the gravity of my position.  I want to apologize to everyone I have let down, especially my editors and readers."  In my opinion, he should have stopped there.  However, he added: "I will do my best to correct the record and ensure that my misquotations and mistakes are fixed."  Really?  Misquotations?  He makes it sound like he made an innocent mistake, as if the whole thing were a misunderstanding or an innocent accident.

The man who exposed the fraud was a Dylan aficionado, Michael Moynihan; he read Imagine, searched for the source of one of Lehrer's Dylan quotes, and after Lehrer responded to Moynihan's inquiries with several lies, Lehrer ultimately confessed "that he had made it up."  According to Moynihan, "Lehrer had spliced together Dylan quotes from separate published interviews, [and] when the quotes were accurate, he took them well out of context."  Sounds intentional, not a case of mere "misquotation."

An apology from a hoaxer doesn't seem to cut it these days.  Already, Lehrer's publisher, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, has announced that it would recall printed copies of Imagine.  If this hoax becomes anything like James Frey's, it wouldn't be surprising if it results in the issuance of refunds to readers who had bought Imagine thinking if was non-fiction, only to find it was not all it is supposed to be.

It will be interesting to see how this pans out.  His book sales are likely to dwindle (people tend to be less interested in reading non-fiction when it actually isn't true), and it is unclear if he will be able to salvage his writing career.  

The tradition of the literary hoax is alive and well.  And once again, a hoaxer has fooled his publisher, reviewers, and readers before the hoax was revealed.

Works consulted:
"Jonah Lehrer Resigned From New Yorker After Making Up Dylan Quotes for His Book," by Julie Bosman, New York Times, July 30, 2012 (appearing on Media Decoder Blog).

"Due Diligence on Dylan: Writer Found Fraud in First Chapter," by Christine Kearney, Chicago Tribune, Aug. 1, 2012.

What My Book Is About in 60 Seconds or Less

Here's a short preview of my book.  Enjoy!

I decided to try to create a short video giving the basic premise of my book, The Myth of Ephraim Tutt, in a highly dramatic fashion.  It only scratches the surface of what it's all about, but if you want to check it out, just click the video link above.

Have a great weekend!

Was it Really Three Cups of Tea, Greg Mortenson?

I've hesitated writing a critical piece about Greg Mortenson's Three Cups of Tea because, on the one hand, the man seems to be doing good things for the world by building schools in Afghanistan and Pakistan.  On the other hand, Three Cups of Tea has increasingly come under fire for mischaracterizing events and wholly manufacturing parts of the story.  Plus, Mortenson's charity, the Central Asia Institute ("CAI"), has faced a battery of accusations regarding its atrocious accounting practices and mismanagement of funds.  As the truth has gradually surfaced over the last year or so, it seems a discussion of Mortenson's hoax is now appropriate. 

For the sake of full disclosure, I read Three Cups of Tea a couple years ago.  I found the first 50 pages or so riveting, the next 50 pages began to flounder, and the 50 pages after that made me lose all interest in reading the rest of the book.  I never finished it.

Now, as it turns out, the story that Mortenson told in the first 50 pages or so--of failing to reach the summit of K2 in Pakistan, getting lost in a small village called Korphe, being nursed back to health by the villagers there, and feeling so touched that he promised to build a school for that village--possibly never happened.
The integrity of Three Cups of Tea began to unravel when 60 Minutes broadcast a show in April 2011 that accused Mortenson of inaccuracies in both Three Cups of Tea and its sequel, Stones into Schools, and for mismanaging CAI.  Besides asserting that Mortenson invented the story of being lost in Korphe, 60 Minutes also challenged Mortenson's claim that he was captured by the Taliban in 1996, noted that Mortenson may have exaggerated the number of schools CAI actually built, and claimed that millions of dollars donated to CAI were actually spent not on schools, but on buying copies of Mortenson's books, and paying for Mortenson's travel costs to promote his books.

In response to the 60 Minutes allegations, Mortenson agreed to be interviewed by his hometown newspaper, The Bozeman Daily Chronicle, and by Outside magazine.  Through these interviews, Mortenson admitted that the story of how he ended up in Korphe was based upon a series of experiences he had conflated into a single remarkable tale.  Apparently, many of the incidents described in Mortenson's books were told in like manner--by synthesizing several encounters into a single poignant one.  When asked if he reviewed the manuscript of his book before it was published and whether he realized that the book was not exactly telling a truthful account of his story, Mortenson blamed his co-author, David Oliver Relin.  Mortenson claimed that he "would squawk about it and be told it would all work out."  In fact, Mortenson claimed that, because he was overseas so frequently, Relin would actually read the manuscript to Mortenson over the phone (as if that somehow lessens his obligation to ensure it is accurate).  When asked if he has read the published book and observed that it did not portray his story accurately, Mortenson replied: "Yeah.   Especially in regards to the timing.  Like, you know, you went there three times, twice you went there in the fall, so let's just make it one fall trip."

As with other literary hoaxes--such as James Frey's and Arthur Train's--Mortenson has since faced his share of lawsuits.  Like Frey and Train, Mortenson has been sued for the "fraud" inherent in his book, as it purports to tell the true story of how Mortenson came to build schools and found CAI.  Since the book embellished aspects of Mortenson's experiences, conflated others, and may exaggerate just how many schools were built, billing it as a "true" story seemed deceitful--at least that's what the litigants in the class action lawsuit against Mortenson alleged.  Although this lawsuit has been dismissed in federal district court, an appeal has been filed.  It will be interesting to see what happens.  In Frey's case, the class action fraud lawsuit against him and his publisher resulted in a settlement amounting to about $3.5 million, which included a massive refund to hoaxed readers.

The allegations about the misuse of CAI funds led to an investigation by the Montana attorney general (CAI is based out of Montana), which resulted in an agreement by which Mortenson would pay $1 million to compensate CAI for his use of CAI funds to promote his books and buy copies of them.  This figure seems low, considering that 60 Minutes reported that CAI spent nearly $4 million to buy copies of Mortenson's books (which generated royalties paid to Mortenson) and the attorney general's report found that CAI had paid around $4.9 million to promote the books.  Under the circumstances, one must wonder whether CAI's purpose is to build schools or its founder's bank accounts.

In the end, I find this whole episode really disappointing.  I find it unsettling that Mortenson doesn't seem to take any personal responsibility for publishing books that are presented as true stories, yet are not exactly "true."  Blaming it all on his co-author seems disingenuous.  I feel bad for those who donated money to CAI, thinking the bulk of it would be spent building schools, when the media has reported that only about 41% of the donations to CAI actually goes towards building schools.
Makes me doubt that it really takes three cups of tea.  Maybe he just took three trips and had one cup of tea during each?

Works consulted:
New York Times
Huffington Post
Greg Mortenson, Three Cups of Tea.

One Risqué Hoax

Earlier this week, I was reading the New York Times when my eyes scanned the obituaries section and the words "literary hoax" caught my attention.  I was surprised to learn about a rather daring hoax of the 1960s--one of which I had never heard.   

Mike McGrady was a prizewinning journalist for Newsday, rubbing elbows with some of the most respected writers of his day.  After reading Valley of the Dolls, McGrady hatched a scheme to make a statement about what he thought was wrong with "mainstream" America.  He conscripted many of the gifted writers with whom he was in contact, and, together, they conspired to write a book that was bawdy and lewd, and that wholly lacked a plot and good writing.  Believing that the public was more interested in reading trashy books than "good" ones, McGrady masterminded the publication of Naked Came the Stranger to prove his point.

Naked Came the Stranger had its standards.  McGrady demanded that the twenty-five writers who were asked to contribute a chapter to the book include at least one sex scene (that is, one or more per chapter).  The authors were to take pains to write poorly-- he "rejected submissions that were too well written."  The only real parameters established in terms of the story line was that the book was supposed to be about a demure Long Island housewife who decides to get back at her cheating husband by inviting many "gentleman callers" to her home and, well, let's just say each chapter was supposed to capture the wife's experience with each candidate (including a boxer, mobster, progressive rabbi, and a gay man).  The cover of the book ensured that readers would not mistake the type of book it was.

The book became a hoax because McGrady submitted it to publishing houses with a cover letter stating that the author was Penelope Ashe, the beautiful housewife caught in her tragically flawed marriage.  Stuart Lyle, Inc., offered a ridiculous sum for the book and immediately began promoting it.  However, before Stuart Lyle began shelling out serious amounts of money, McGrady came clean (he was too worried about being accused of fraud to allow the publication process to go too far) and revealed that there was no such person as Penelope Ashe and that the book was actually written primarily by men.  Stuart Lyle only loved the book more. 

The book was an instant success.  While Stuart Lyle knew it was a hoax, McGrady perpetuated the idea that the book was a real story by recruiting his sister-in-law, Billie Young, to play the part of Penelope Ashe for public events and book signings.  The public was not kept in the dark for long, though.  You see, even hoaxsters have integrity.  McGrady decided to keep his reputation as a respected journalist intact by revealing the truth to the public.  In August 1969, he orchestrated a nationwide press release, with the media publicizing that the book was not written by a desperate housewife in Long Island, but by a team of mostly male writers.  Television also became involved in the big unveil.  In fact, when one late night talk show reported that he had secured Penelope Ashe to be a guest on his show, when the time came for Ashe to appear, "out trouped the whole group of mostly male writers, led by McGrady."  The audience was delighted.

Unlike other hoaxes, when the public learned the true nature of the book, sales continued to climb, and it was even translated into Dutch, Danish, Norwegian, Italian, Spanish, and French.

In the end, the book has sold approximately 400,000 copies, it was made into a pornographic film (McGrady was not involved in the film production), and I suppose it proved McGrady's point: sex sells (even when it lacks much in the way of plot).

If you're interested in reading McGrady's obituary from the New York Times, I am providing a link here.

Works consulted for this entry:
The New York Times
Melissa Katsoulis's Literary Hoaxes: An Eye-Opening History of Famous Frauds

Joan Lowell & Her Literary Hoax

This fall, the University of Alabama Press is publishing a book I have written exploring the incredible literary hoax perpetrated by Arthur Train, based upon his publication of the "autobiography" of his famous fictitious character, Ephraim Tutt.  My book is entitled The Myth of Ephraim Tutt: Arthur Train and His Great Literary Hoax, and I cannot wait to share more details about the book as it nears its publication date. 

Through my research for that book, I learned a lot about other hoaxes that have reared their ugly (or amusing--depends on how you look at it) heads throughout American history.  As I discovered one hoax after another, I could not help but find the whole business of writing books that are utterly false or highly embellished to be a rather fascinating aspect of the book industry.  Some authors are driven by fame and money, some authors twist the truth under the belief that their book will be made more interesting by dramatizing (and falsifying) aspects of their story.  While I sincerely believe that Arthur Train perpetrated his hoax with an innocent and blameless motive, the same cannot be said for most others.

Since the great tradition of the literary hoax shows no sign of approaching extinction--recent hoaxers include James Frey and Greg Mortenson--I will periodically discuss literary hoaxes that have fooled American readers over the years, and will explore whether such hoaxes are ultimately harmful to society or merely humorous literary escapades.  Today, I'd like to begin this exploration by discussing Joan Lowell's publication of Cradle of the Deep.  

 [The front cover of the book--with the letters J and L forming the shape of an anchor]

In 1929, Simon and Schuster, along with a myriad of readers and reviewers, developed a keen interest in Joan Lowell, whose recently published book--Cradle of the Deep-- told of her harrowing adventures on the high seas as she traveled with her father in his glorious four-masted ship.  Her book's foul-mouthed accounts of being the only female on a ship full of hardened sailors, of learning life's lessons (including how to swim, which occurred after she was literally thrown into the ocean to see whether she would sink or stay afloat), and fighting for survival was shocking, engaging, and page-turning.

When the New York Times reviewed the book, it sang its praises.  The book was deemed a "jolly yarn," told with "dash and ardor" and a "vocabulary as replete with expletives as one will encounter at sea or in a highly modern Broadway show."  Although the Times noted that the book seemed plagued with dramatics as Lowell described "each and every calamity at sea--shipwreck, scurvy, fire and so on," the reviewer was quick to add that he did not "question the veracity of the sea-going author."

[Inside the front cover is an illustrated map captioned with some of the adventures Lowell describes]

Oh, but he should have.  Nautical experts who read the book found "innumerable flaws" in Lowell's account, including facts that any amateur sailor would not have mistaken.  Some were so enraged that it was said that they "called upon Heaven, Homer, and Herman Melville to witness that she didn't know her ship's lee scuppers from a marlinspike."  The truth was soon revealed that Lowell grew up exclusively on dry land in California, not on a ship. 

Lowell's publisher and her readers had been "had."  Not knowing before publication that it was entirely make believe, Simon & Schuster was forced to offer a refund to its fooled readers (as the first printing was 75,000 copies, the refund was a costly punishment).  Further, since the book's true nature was not discovered until after the Book-of-the-Month Club recommended it to its members, the hoax's repercussions leaked into the courtroom as this book club was publicly ridiculed and criticized by powerful figures in the book world, which resulted in litigation.

Lowell seems to have escaped her mischief unscathed, as she continued to write and even starred in a movie of her own making.  In 1934, her film, "Adventure Girl," was shown in theaters; the movie supposedly re-enacted her adventures with her father and his crew while on board a schooner headed for the West Indies and Central America.  Lowell was said to have created the film to lend credibility to Cradle of the Deep--but there was no redeeming the latter after it was exposed for the hoax it was.  Lowell never abandoned her tales of navigating the seas; it almost seems that she most of her life trying to revitalize her first fictitious book about such adventures.  She even married a sea captain in 1936 and sailed with him to Brazil, where they built a home in the jungle.  Her attempts to escape from her hoax were unavailing-- even twenty years after its publication, the book world still reeled from her shenanigan--Cradle of the Deep was declared "one of the most violent literary controversies of modern times" in 1952.

[Each chapter featured a captioned illustration, previewing an episode that would be described]

Should Lowell's hoax be considered harmful or hilarious?  Should it be taken seriously or with a sense of humor?  These themes will be discussed in my next blog entry, and periodically in others as I explore other literary hoaxes in American history.


Works consulted for this blog entry:
The New York Times