First, I think I should let you know that I got this book for free… as a joke. When Borders went out of business (moment of silence), they gave a bunch of books that they couldn’t offload at a 90% mark down to my brother’s place of work. He came over once while I wasn’t home and hid them all over my bookshelves. The joke is on him because I will read anything! Johnny Weir’s biography isn’t terrible. I just find that I don’t care. I don’t follow figure skating, though I DO love the movie, Cutting Edge. So I am letting you know, up front, that figure skating and the Olympics don’t appeal to me at all.
Weir begins at the beginning, outlining his roots and briefly discussing his childhood and how he came into figure skating. One feels the natural affection he has for his mother, and his father, though Mr. Weir doesn’t figure much into this auto-biography. He then proceeds to outline his metamorphosis of sheltered child to outrageous “Pop Star on Ice”. He talks about overcoming his fear of competition, asserting his independence, and making his way in the world while doing his best to annoy the skating federation. Never having met Weir, or followed his career, I find that his auto-biography reads like that of a loud younger sibling that wants a lot of attention, but is not really as wild or interesting as he or she thinks. And like all stories told by younger siblings, you can’t count everything in this book as fact. It seems like Weir is outrageous to Weir, and maybe a few that emulate him, but not to the world in general.
I also found a bit of hypocrasy in his perception of events. He constantly asserts that there are rumors about him, ‘being a diva’ but they are untrue. Um, when a person refuses to room with other people during competition to the point of paying for his own room… uh, yeah, he is a diva. Worse, an entitled diva who believes his comfort is more important than protocol. Weir talks about his dedication, but then every other page is having little mini dramas and power struggles with his coaches, and cheating on established rules set out by his coaches. Apparently, Weir is also so kind and loving to his friends, but the way he went about letting his mother fire his first coach was underhanded, manipulative, and sneaky, definitely not loving and caring. What I found laughably funny were the less than subtle digs at Evan Lysacek (Olympic Gold Medalist). Apparently, any time Evan won it was politics and horribly judging but when Weir won they got it right. Sorry, but it can’t be both ways. Either the judges are horrible, or the judges are right.
On a positive note, this book is a quick read. I also enjoy the fact that Weir doesn’t make a melodrama about his sexuality. His opinion is that he is comfortable with that tiny aspect of his life, and doesn’t feel that it needs to define him. He doesn’t feel the need to become an advocate or spend pages and pages droning on about how difficult his life has been because he is gay. I am sure that anyone who likes figure skating or books without a lot of substance would enjoy this book. Unfortunately, I like auto biographies with a bit more meat. I’d love to read something written by Weir’s father, or brother, it would be an interesting perspective.
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