Jan. 18 (Bloomberg) -- When I wrote a short memoir in 2000, I would have benefited from a more eventful life, a run-in with the law, a wild car chase, a boyfriend killed in a tragic accident.

But I remembered what Mother Marita Joseph did to those who embellished their what-I-did-on-my-summer-vacation essays with fanciful sharks and ghosts. She gave them F's.

So I was shocked when James Frey, author of the so-called memoir ``A Million Little Pieces,'' turned out to have made up important parts of his book and no one seemed to care, including Oprah Winfrey. I think of Oprah as a Mother Joseph wannabe, a daytime oracle rewarding the good and punishing the bad. Everyone was waiting to see what she would do.

It was last October when Oprah was gripped by Frey's saga of head-in-the-toilet drunkenness. Since being on her show, Frey's book has sold 3 million copies.

Frey's exposure as a fraud last week by William Bastone of the Smoking Gun, a Web site owned by Court TV and Time Warner Inc., was a fluke. Bastone was looking for a mug shot of the author, but couldn't find one, despite the dozen or more arrests Frey claimed.

It turns out one of the most dramatic parts of ``Pieces'' - - three months in jail after a cocaine-induced crime spree -- didn't happen. There was no crashing into a squad car, no fight with the police, in fact, no jail time. Frey's entire incarceration consisted of a few uncuffed hours in a holding room in Granville, Ohio. The police sergeant remembers Frey as polite.

Fabrications, Embellishments

Bastone found other fabrications and embellishments, including a huge one at the heart of Frey's second memoir, ``My Friend Leonard.'' In that one, which begins on the 87th day of an imprisonment that never happened, Frey placed himself in the middle of a terrifying train wreck that killed two high school girls. Bastone talked to one girl's mother, who said Frey ``had nothing to do with the accident.''

There was a time when Frey would have been put to shame by Oprah for violating her trust, sued by his publisher, and stoned by his readers. Even by our sunken measure of what constitutes a memoir, Frey's are works of fiction. Even by our declining standards of what constitutes a lie, this author has crossed the line.

Truth Doesn't Matter

Instead, Frey goes on ``Larry King Live'' to say what he did was fine, and brings along his mother. His publisher is unapologetic, if not gleeful. If you don't like fiction masquerading as non-fiction, you can traipse back to the store and avail yourself of their standard refund.

But what about Oprah? Phoning in to Larry, Oprah said it didn't matter to her ``whether or not the car's wheels rolled up on the sidewalk or whether he hit the police officer or didn't hit the police officer.'' Frey's recovery is an inspiration, nonetheless, and the uproar is ``much ado about nothing.''

Lying turns out to be a great career move for Frey and his publisher. Everywhere he shopped his novel about an abusive drunk and coke addict wanted in three states, he was turned down. Only when he presented his story as non-fiction did he find a buyer.

Thanks to Oprah's pass, Frey hasn't suffered at all. At Barnes & Noble in the Georgetown section of Washington, the book is displayed front and center. The clerk told me the only message from headquarters was to order more copies. As of this writing, ``A Million Little Pieces'' still is No. 1 on the New York Times best-seller list.

Oprah's Relativism

Could Oprah be one more moral relativist spinning her way out of a tight spot? If so, she is not alone.

President George W. Bush doesn't admit that he is spying without a court order until caught, or that there's torture going on until there are photos. Even then, he's not wrong. So what if there are no weapons of mass destruction, the war has lasted far longer than the promised six months and isn't being paid for by Iraq's oil revenues? As far as we know, even amid the unnecessary death and destruction from Hurricane Katrina, Bush still thinks former disaster management chief Michael Brown did one ``heck of a job.''

We count on cultural icons like Oprah to provide shame at a time when we don't get it from traditional sources. Bishops and cardinals lie about reassigning abusive priests and get promoted to monsignor. Baseball heroes swelled to the size of buffalo swear they aren't taking steroids.

Frey is lucky he lives now and not in 1972 when the truth mattered, that he has Oprah as his judge, not the judge who sent author Clifford Irving, who faked an authorized biography of reclusive billionaire Howard Hughes, to prison for 17 months.

Fast forward to our very different time, when Irving's life will be the subject of a major motion picture starring Richard Gere. Let's hope the producers will emphasize the point that what Irving did was wrong -- and that Oprah never has Irving, who is still writing books, on her show.

To contact the writer of this column: Margaret Carlson in Washington at mcarlson3@bloomberg.net

Last Updated: January 17, 2006 12:58 EST