Tilted Forum Project Discussion Community - View Single Post - Lots of lying authors runnin' round these days

QuasiMondo · 03-04-2008, 12:32 PM

I found this piece in the comments section of the New York Times:

Quote:

The thing that is most disturbing about this and similar situations is that it will make it harder for authors with challenging, compelling (and actually truthful!) memoirs to be heard. Like my story for example. I was born at high altitutde in Tibet in the mid sixties to a couple who were doing peace corp work. My father was Korean-american and my mother was of half Swedish/half Australian aboriginal descent, which gave me an appearance that allowed me to pass as any race that I wished. As I was to discover later in life this was a quality that would prove very important. My first years were very idyllic, living out on the steppes of Tibet, about a hundred miles from Lhasa, the bustling capital. My earliest memories are of the great herds of yak that the villagers would tend to. I was a fearless child, and even at the age of five, I could run up to a yak and leap on its back, holding on strongly to its main, as it galloped on the tundra. I developed a very strong intuition about the animals, until at one point it was as if I was actually part yak as well as being part Korean, part Swedish and part Aborigine. The villagers knew me as “He that holds the main without fear”, but of course they said it in Tibetan. At some point my reputation came to the attention of a group of monks who were looking for the next in line of succession of lamas. Amazingly, they said they saw in me the spirit of the lama, that I was the reincarnation of a long dead lama. My parents were highly suspicious, but then they thought it would be a very culturally enriching experience if I was to go with them, and be a lama for a while. So, reluctantly they gave their permission, and that was it, I left the village to go to the monastery of Gyegu Fa with the monks. It was amazing; I was revered as almost a god. To cut a long story short, the monastery was raided by the Chinese and everyone was killed but me. I was taken as a mascot for the Chinese troops. I spent months with them. One night I fell off the back of the troop truck into a river and was lost to them. I almost died. I was adopted by a herd of yaks, who recognized me. I lived with the yaks for a year. Eventually I went to Afganistan and ran hashish. Then I stole a plane and flew to Iceland. I became addicted to heroin and played in a band with Bjorks younger, hotter sister Babja. I kicked heroin and became addicted to exstacy. I ended up hugging the wrong person in an extasy induced haze in Amsterdam and got beaten up, until some Dutch Hells Angels came to my rescue. I ran with them for a year. Eventually I became a cardiac-thoracic surgeon in Argentina, and actually put in the mitral valve of the dreaded dictator Auguste Pinoche.
So, this is the material that is in the first chapter of my memoir. But my fear is that with this recent spate of so-called memoirs that turn out to be fakes, people will look with suspicion on my, admittedly unbelievable, life. However, you can check on any aspect of my story and find that it is true. Just ask Babja.

Sad that we'll never know the full story because of dishonest authors.