Not Another One

Anyone heard of the book "Love and Consequences" by one Margaret B. Jones? (I hadn't, but then I'm not always "up" on the latest literary offerings.) Anyway, according to the article here, in "a critically acclaimed memoir published last week, Margaret B. Jones wrote about her life as a half-white, half-Native American girl growing up in South-Central Los Angeles as a foster child among gang-bangers, running drugs for the Bloods."

Only one problem.

Ol' Mags made the whole thing up.

Not half-white.
Not half-Native American.
Didn't grow up in South-Central L.A.
Wasn't a foster child.
Didn't live among gang-bangers, running drugs for the Bloods.

What she did do, was she grew up in a whitebread section of the San Fernando Valley (a suburb of Los Angeles) with her biological family.

AND she had the nerve to attend the very same private school I traipsed through in ninth grade.

Oh, the shame!

The fine folks at Penguin Books are admittedly red-faced. They're recalling the books and canceling the author's tour. The editor who worked with Ms. Jones for three years is appropriately heartbroken. (Um...three years?)

And, get this: her own sister spilled the beans. Yep, as soon as she saw some publicity on the book, she just called up the publisher and said, "Nuh-uh." (Methinks the family might not be too close--or if it was, it ain't now.)

Ms. Jones claims she had good intentions. She wanted to forge a better understanding of race relations through relating experiences told to her by others.

(Yeah, and I'd like a little of that advance she got.)

Anyway, a word to the wise, Margaret: don't be showing up at Campbell Hall's reunions any time soon. I might wanna word with you.