Jay is a talented, intelligent, free spirited addict in the early 90’s. He is addicted to drugs, alcohol and a desperate desire to find love - which he confuses with intimacy and sex. He goes to Paris just shy of finishing college so he can write, drink, do drugs, have sex and define his choices as freedom and art. Author James Frey is the same mind streaming, insightful, detailed writer that he was with his bestseller A Million Little Pieces. Nothing has changed except he is now reflecting on his life; he is older, possibly wiser, and definitely more honest with himself. This book is nothing like I gathered from reviews, both the good and the many bad. His character is that of a selfish addict that is insecure, confused and yet has a sweet and loving heart. The story to me is neither romantic or insightful. The prose is exhausting to follow and very little actually happens. I remember loving his other book (whether it was true or not, I never cared) but this one did not grab me. I don’t know why some people have such struggle finding happiness but reading about it felt pointless and sad. Can’t really find a reason to recommend.