I know this one's already been discovered by many of you -- being published in '04 and all -- but I just finished reading Another Bullshit Night in Suck City, by Nick Flynn.
What happens when your father is a delusional, psychotic, alcoholic-slash-substance-abuser-slash-gambling-addict who probably should have been sterilized shortly after puberty? You glide through the channels of life, rudderless, until you find yourself bouncing in nightclubs, and then you...
Fuck. That's me. Sorry. And Nick Flynn's father didn't gamble. He was homeless, which was a condition I was powerless to inflict on my father while he was alive.
Read this book. As far as I know, it's all true. I mean, I'm hoping it's all true, because I'd like for this book -- and its author -- to become my own little personal anti-James Frey. Flynn kind of spoke to me in passages here, and I don't want for him to have been lying. That would be one motherfucker of a disappointment. Fortunately, nothing I've found online would indicate an attempt by the author to slide anything by me with this one, so I'm going with veracity as my sentiment of choice.
Everyone's memoir should be this good.