by Nicole Farrell, senior editor

In honor, I guess, of “The Wolf of Wall Street” being released on DVD tomorrow, I’m here to fight for the book.

I admittedly steered clear of the movie version of Jordan Belfort’s memoir of the same name. After hearing horror stories of people accidentally going with grandmas and viewing with new boyfriends, I wasn’t hearing what I wanted after reading the book a few months before the movie’s release.

I could rant on about Hollywood’s lack of moral responsibility and idolization of wealth and drug culture, but that’s already obviously affluent.

I wasn’t surprised the movie was rampant with drug use, recreational sex and selfish greed. I mean, I read the book.

I was just disappointed that the movie failed to deliver the complex message Belfort did in his book: I had fun, but I live with the haunted memories.

The book begins with an incredibly fast-paced recap of Belfort’s first day as a little fish in a big, out-of-control stock room. His job? He’s a connector: someone who calls corporations with the sole purpose of reaching the desired contact and passing the phone to a higher-up.

Talk about humble beginnings.

Belfort’s scrappy, wry sense of humor is instantly revealed and developed through his account. His evolution into a dangerous expert and scam king is terribly incredible.

The most powerful part of the memoir for me is the dedication and prologue. A book filled with disgusting, vulgar, desperate and illegal activities dedicated to his two “wonderful children.”

I get the impression that the movie didn’t have a dedication.

People were disgusted with the movie. I was disgusted with the book.

That was the point.

I read a TIME review of the movie by Richard Corliss in December, headlined “‘The Wolf of Wall Street‘: Scorsese and DiCaprio Fall for the Big Con,” in which Corliss argues that director Martin Scorsese and the movie’s actors are just a few of  the many people who have fallen for Belfort’s “swindles.”

He’s right in some sense. It’s a supposedly true story told by a man known for dishonesty. Corliss’s ultimate statement is that the movie is “so enthralled by wretched excess that it is unable to recognize the moment when it spins out of control and is totaled.”

But that’s what Belfort already said about his life.

The book redeemed itself through Belfort’s candid and forthcoming narrative. Yes, the account in the book and movie is captivated by how “freakin’ cool” his extracurriculars were to him, as Corliss says, but he juxtaposes those descriptions against his family and the guilt that gnaws at him. It’s a line of coke versus his crying daughter. Belfort’s work and lifestyle affected everyone around him in devastating ways.

In the prologue, Belfort describes the descent of his life to king, rock star, and wolf of Wall Street.  Yes, “descent.”

He eased his worries over time, telling himself, “This was Wall Street and, on Wall Street, there’s no time for symbolic pleasantries or societal niceties.”

His motive for this lengthy confession: “I want you to know who I really am and more importantly, who I’m not. And I say these things because I have two children of my own, and I have a lot to explain to them one day. I have to explain how their lovable dad, the very dad who now drives them to soccer games and shows up at their parent-teacher conferences and stays home on Friday nights and makes them Caesar salad from scratch, could have been such a despicable person once.”

He addresses the rich and poor, the drug addicts, and “anyone who’s considering taking a God-given gift and misusing it; to anyone who decides to go the dark side of the force and live a life of unbridled hedonism.”

Maybe this post-accumulated humility is a further part of Belfort’s scam, but don’t blame the movie for its ignorance “of the financial and ethical consequences.” That was actually his life.

Jordan Belfort says there’s nothing glamorous about being the Wolf of Wall Street.

Oops. Hollywood made a movie starring Leonardo DiCaprio, now available on DVD and BluRay.

I may have fallen for his “Big Con,” but how often do we even get 500-word written apologies for people who messed up?

But I mean, you could just watch the movie. Or the trailer, featuring background music by Kanye.