It never ceases to amaze me how reading can influence one's life. I believe we are creatures of our environment. Television, movies, fashion, music, friends - they all play a part in shaping individuals but I always find books more personal. For me, it's the fact that as much as one reads in public, the actual act of decompiling and understanding is extremely personal and I find that I often react to books much more strongly that I do to something visual. I blame it on my overactive imagination.

Earlier this week I started reading James Frey's book A Million Little Pieces. It was a bookclub selection that I was going to pass over but there were enough people talking and recommending this as a good read that I thought I'd give it a try. Before picking up the book, I knew that he'd been on Oprah and I had heard rumours about issues surrounding the book but I knew little else.

The first 50 pages were gruesome to read. I can take gore when it's in the context of movies or television but give it to me in a book with rich language that describes the pain and I get a bit faint. I stopped twice over those first pages. I'm glad I continued.

Regardless of the ongoing battle of whether this is pure memoir or whether it has been embellished, the book is what it is: an insightful look into the mind of an addict and the struggles faced by them. I am surprised at how strongly I've reacted to this book, especially considering that I almost chose not to read it. Some books tell a message with intricate and rich language. This one resonates despair, fear, chaos, calm, frailty and hope in simple, concise and sometimes brutal language.

If for no other reason, I would recommend this as something to read when you need to get yourself up as a reminder that things could be worse - hold on and things will get better. The message is clear. For me, reading this encouraged me to re-evaluate my situation, my actions and my goals.