I was thrilled when “Not Dead & Not for Sale: A Memoir” came out in 2011—and then majorly disappointed. A huge fan of Scott Weiland, I held his book in my hands at a Barnes & Noble and thought it looked too short, way too miniscule to fit all the hefty tales that typical bigtime rock ‘n’ rollers expand on with bravado for four hundred pages. Additionally, seeing all the trite graphics and well-known lyrics by Weiland splattered throughout the pages felt like wasted space and was a turnoff. I put the book back on the shelf and forgot all about it.



Following Weiland’s sad recent death, I had no choice but to revisit his book again. I bought it on my Kindle without hesitation, and it turns out my preconceived notions about the book were both right and wrong. Among his other artistic talents, Weiland was also a solid writer with a knack for the dramatic. His tale was especially riveting in the beginning, where I really enjoyed reading about his home life as a child and his interest in extracurricular activities such as sports and the church choir.



The singer was also a deep thinker who was very aware of his himself and his surroundings. From his boyhood home in Ohio to sunny California, it was back and forth for Weiland cross country during his eventful childhood: two very different dads, two lives, and two ways of viewing the world. Interestingly, it's been revealed recently that Weiland in fatherhood emulated some of the same childrearing habits as his real dad, but that's probably a future story to be told elsewhere. As the book progresses, Weiland relates stories about his past women and other teenage pursuits. When he gets music in his blood and starts pursuing it with abandon, you’ll feel like you’re right there with him in the California sunshine, the clubs, on the stages, and in the dark areas where forbidden fruit beckoned.



The chapters are extremely short, which at first worked for me; they seemed to complement Weiland’s frenetic and fast lifestyle, and the material was interesting, not glossed over. But as I read on the feeling was inescapable that Weiland could have expanded much more on his brief narratives, his circumstances, his surroundings, his music, and his bandmates. The guys in Stone Temple Pilots seemed like either brothers or traitors in Weiland’s eyes, depending on the current state of his habits. Dean Deleo in particular, though close to Weiland in the beginning, seemed to lose patience quickly with his bandmate.



In one of the latter chapters titled “Parisian Nightmare,” Weiland writes about a truly harrowing experience in which he was alone in Paris and persuaded by several men to go to a party. It turns out these guys were bad eggs, and Weiland realized he had to flee from them or risk something fatal. As it was, he was injured from the experience. Just imagine ... because of his wandering ways Weiland could have lost his life to a bunch of hoodlums in Paris. He relates a few other stories in which he’s buying drugs in shady areas and attacked. When I think about events like these it makes me sad for Scott Weiland. In some ways he had a very charmed life, and he seemed to be a charming guy, but “Not Dead & Not for Sale” also reveals many of the disparaging times of his existence, which was both poetic and profane. Probably the way he liked it.