The Salt Path – is the fallout drama really justified?
Gillian Anderson and Jason Isaacs in The Salt Path
When a memoir turns out to be a li’l bit (okay maybe more than a little bit) on the fictional side, is such a fuss really justified?
Autobiographies often straddle the line between memoir and storytelling. And many beloved memoirs include inaccuracies, intentional or not. A Guardian review recently noted that “scandal has stalked memoir since the genre was invented”. So not something particularly unusual. Yet when The Salt Path by Raynor Winn came under scrutiny, the fallout felt pretty catastrophic.
So why does The Salt Path drama feel different? And does it really even matter, if stories still move you? Is the point of a book simply to entertain?
I asked a couple of people to give me their thoughts on this…
Gillian Anderson and Jason Isaacs in The Salt Path
I believe it does matter – Fiona, 56
I picked up The Salt Path because I felt seen. A couple my age, forced to rebuild from ruin, walking the coast to heal – that resonated with me. But now the Observer alleges serious omissions: Winn allegedly embezzled about £64,000, owned property in France, and her husband’s condition may differ from what’s in the book.
I ask myself: does that change my experience? Yes it does. Emotional truth is not enough if the facts are false. Plenty of memoirs stretch the truth; James Frey’s A Million Little Pieces claimed he spent 87 days in jail, but he only spent hours. Oprah confronted him. Publishers inserted disclaimers and even offered refunds. Margaret Seltzer’s Love and Consequences and Binjamin Wilkomirski’s wartime memoir were also debunked.
But those were cases of outright falsehood in critical events – abuse, war crimes, addiction. Those fabrications misled readers and harmed real communities.
With The Salt Path, the stakes feel different. This is a story of resilience and walking, on the face of it. Yet the central pivot – homelessness after loss of their home – may apparently be untrue. That matters! If the foundation is faulty, the emotional journey feels hollow.
We trust memoir writers. We expect honesty. The moment that trust is broken, the emotional impact diminishes. We start questioning every tender moment, every revelation. The message – hope through hardship – turns hollow.
And yes, there’s a mild ageism in the backlash. Many suggest older authors shouldn’t pretend. But honesty should matter at every age.
Map of The Salt Path travelled by the Winns in the book (right)
I don’t think it matters – Mark, 53
I still love the book. It moved me. It made me walk more, worry less, feel more capable. The heart of the story doesn’t change if Raynor’s steps or missteps happened differently.
Memoirs aren’t biographies. They’re memories. They’re stories. They’re shaped by emotion. They’re selective. Every writer chooses what to include. When [James] Frey’s book came out and he was busted making things up, he defended himself, saying his book was 85 percent true and that it offered ‘emotional authenticity’ over literal fact. Readers accepted that. The book survived.
Why pick on The Salt Path now? Maybe it’s because it was so successful? Two million copies sold, a film adaptation with Gillian Anderson and Jason Isaacs… The higher the success, the harder the fall. It feels like schadenfreude to me. We don’t want people to succeed.
Win half a million in royalties and film deals, and suddenly their journey seems less authentic? Bit unfair. Success doesn’t erase struggle.
What if Raynor was less than accurate – surely she still felt emotionally homeless? What matters is the story she tells. The landscapes, the healing, the bond with her husband: that remains.
The drama signals something else: we’re uncomfortable with imperfect memoirs. We want truth – real truth. But perhaps we should learn to accept a messy form of truth, one lived on the page, not proven in a court.
Why the uproar?
The Salt Path hit a nerve perhaps because published ‘truth’ is under increasing scrutiny. Publishing has little fact‑checking – Penguin itself admits so. Penguin has no dedicated fact-checking department for books, and relies on author warranties for veracity in its autobiographies. We trust and expect honest stories. So when the cracks appear, the trust collapses.
It’s probably also true to say that in a world where almost everything you read online increasingly seems to have been created with AI, it would be lovely if you could actually trust book publishers to exercise some due diligence.
But it also feels a bit personal for older readers. Winn and her husband were in their 60s. Their message – that it’s never too late to start – is powerful for readers in the same age group. And so their experiences felt close to home. We’re wrestling with our own stability, our own stories of resilience. We wanted to believe theirs.
* Interviews have been edited for clarity.
Sam is Silver’s founder and editor-in-chief. She’s largely responsible for organising all the things, but still finds time to do the odd bit of writing. Not enough though. Send help.
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Of course it matters. When I read a memoir I expect it to be as true as much as possible. Raynor Wynn told blatant lies; not only regarding her own actions but she depicted real people in a negative light. Recently it has come to light that she stole thousands from her own family. In a new documentary by the journalist who uncovered the scam interviews the family who coborrate this. The publishers must have no ethics as they are publishing a book that is full of lies, has affected seriously ill people and which claims to be authentic. The couple are still making money out of it! Disgraceful!