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Oh, my experience rereading this book was so different from my first reading ten years ago. Back then, I don't think I'd read any Ann Patchett yet--I'd read Lucy Grealy's Autobiography of a Face and wanted to know more about her and how she died. Even though Ann was doing the telling, I saw this as Lucy's story.

Fast forward ten years: I've now read and loved three of Ann Patchett's novels and a fair amount of her nonfiction pieces. I'm a fan. Rereading Truth and Beauty, I'm much more interested in Ann's story, and surprised by how much of the book is actually about her. I think the story of Ann's writing life is as fascinating as Lucy's, in its own way--no drama, no self-destructiveness, just someone who gradually made her way from Friday's waitress to wildly successful author via talent, of course, but also sheer force of will and her willingness to engage, day after day, with the page in front of her--something Lucy, it seems, was never able to do. Of course, the book really is about both of them, a true portrait of their friendship, but for me, Ann's part in it assumed its rightful place on this reading.

The parts of the book concerning Lucy's drug addiction really stood out for me this time as well: Lucy's ex-boyfriend Andy, thinking if he can just keep her out of New York (where her dealer lives) she'll stay clean--as if Lucy couldn't find drugs everywhere else in the world. Ann herself desperately wanting Lucy to move to Nashville so she can keep an eye on her--basically be there to stop Lucy if she tries to go off track. Such common behavior among the loved ones of addicts. You think there's something you can do to solve the problem, but the fact is you can't do anything. I felt that aspect of the book much more strongly this time around.

Lucy's bad behavior was less shocking to me this time--probably because it was no longer new to me--but I certainly understand all the reviewers here who wonder why in the world someone like Ann would stay friends with someone like Lucy. To me, the answer is in this passage, one of my favorites in the book:

"Whenever I saw her, I felt like I had been living in another country, doing moderately well in another language, and then she showed up speaking English and suddenly I could speak with all the complexity and nuance that I hadn't even realized was gone. With Lucy I was a native speaker."

Don't we all want to be lucky enough to feel this way? And once we did, wouldn't we do whatever we could to hold onto it?