Aren’t autobiographies born in a question we ask ourselves: how did I get to this point? Don’t we look back over the path and tell ourselves a story? This is how it happened. This is who I am.
Frederick WeiselTags: story autobiography teller weisel frederick-weisel
The problem with escaping is that we leave behind us, even among those we love, different versions of the truth and everything we couldn’t bring ourselves to say.
Frederick WeiselTags: truth love escape teller weisel frederick-weisel
I lived that year on top of a wooden tower in an area east of Santa Rosa known as the Valley of the Moon.
Frederick WeiselTags: teller weisel frederick-weisel santa-rosa valley-of-the-moon
As the chapters took shape, a change came over her. It was the double-sided recognition that this book, the last that she would write, might achieve esteem and success equal to her great novel, but that its emotional heart would lie in her own unhappiness for having failed to find the one thing she wanted. For the first time she was a character in her own writing, and her frailties and mistakes were trapped on the page by the beauty and unsparing focus of her prose. Towards the end it was a battle to finish a page. The story was the story she had told herself for decades, deep within her own mind, and now as it grew, line by line, on the paper before her, she wrestled with each turn in the path all over again, as if it were still possible to change its course with the power of her words.
Frederick WeiselTags: words writing story book failing teller weisel frederick-weisel
At first, he talked about the flowers in the garden behind his country house in Surrey. His voice still had its Midlands accent but was soft now and barely audible. He knew the plants by name and took a few minutes with each of them: ageratum, coreopsis, echinacea, rudbeckia. The yarrow, he said, had rose-red flowers on two-foot stems. Achillea millefolium, the plant Achilles used to heal wounds.
Frederick WeiselTags: flowers plants voice teller weisel frederick-weisel
The sun had already set behind the mountains, and the sky had been drained of color. The trellises of sauvignon blanc flowed down the hill in even rows toward the valley floor. Whatever I was looking for, it wasn’t outside. As far as I could tell, the grapes were minding their own business.
Frederick WeiselTags: sunset grapes teller weisel frederick-weisel sauvignon-blanc
Sometimes, however much you plan, however many precautions you take, something happens, and in a minute the world is changed. After that, you’re the person on the other side of that minute.
Frederick WeiselTags: changes teller weisel frederick-weisel
The thing about hitting bottom is that, in the middle of it, sometimes you don’t know if you’re really hitting bottom or just bouncing off ledges on your way further down.
Frederick WeiselTags: teller weisel frederick-weisel hitting-bottom
People are complicated,” she said. “Didn’t they teach you that in biography school?
Frederick WeiselTags: people biography teller weisel frederick-weisel
Do you know what the essential problem of the piano is?” he asked. He held me so his head was a few inches from my own. His eyes darted back and forth. “It is impossible to play continuously on a piano string like a violin. The problem is to sustain a note.
Frederick WeiselTags: piano teller weisel frederick-weisel
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