Written in reaction to the backlash over “the more fiction than truth” memoirs like A Million Little Pieces, David Carr’s Night of The Gun takes a nearly scientific approach to the reporting of a life of addiction and recovery.

At the start the book is a fascinating musing on the difference between what actually happened and how we remember it. But the novelty of this device ultimately tires and we are left with a brutal account of an ultimately unsympathetic character who makes it nearly impossible to root for him.

Night of The Gun does have it’s high points, but most of them come in the first half of the book. The backside of the book is an exercise in endurance with Carr turning his focus to the tragedies of the people around him and an account of him watching his carefully constructed world fall a part.

At the end of this little experiment of a book I came away feeling exhausted and unfulfilled. The conclusion I reached was that I’d rather read the mostly true recollections of someone going through he’ll than the blow by blow reporting based on the mostly true recollections of others.

A Million Little Pieces may be filled with a million little white lies, but I enjoyed that book a million times more than this one. Memoir isn’t really pure nonfiction and that’s a good thing as a storyteller will always triumph a reporter when it comes to creating a compelling personal stories.