One relationship on which he keeps mum, though, is his professional rivalry with 2010 Olympic champion Evan Lysacek. For years, the two skaters battled for dominance in men’s figure skating, with Lysacek keeping a stony front to Weir’s quotes, including the time he noted if Evan “doesn’t want to skate to music that’s pretty and wear a pretty costume, then go rollerblade or skateboard or do one of those extreme sports.”
Readers will learn very little else about Weir’s feelings on the matter, because he wisely leaves his tension with Lysacek alone and keeps an extremely respectful tone towards anything that happened on the ice. Even more refreshing is his candor in admitting any mistakes he has made throughout his career, while maintaining an uninhibited love for the sport.
Weir’s passion for figure skating, and for everything he pursues in life, comes across clearly on every page. He is more than a personality; he is also a human making choices and revealing his art to audiences around the world.
The book does give some subjects a less-than-delicate treatment. Although Weir analyzes his actions with the benefit of hindsight, his references to a profound and continuing dislike for the United States Figure Skating Association are bluntly aggressive and do not point to future reconciliation. If Weir ever does make a competitive comeback, he will be forced to deal with the federation again, and his words are no aid in reconstructing their ties.
Similarly, he makes mention of his enjoyment of partying and consuming alcohol, mostly while on tour with a major skating show. He also drops phrases about his need to be skinny for competitions, or how little he eats before skating. These are personal choices, which Weir is free to share, but this makes it tricky to recommend the book for younger readers, particularly ice skaters. They may assume that this is an acceptable or healthy way of life for a professional skater, because Weir is able to pull it off with few consequences.