book review

Parallel Play: Growing Up With Undiagnosed Asperger’s, by Tim Page, is a “my life with autism” story from one of our older survivors.  The book mainly deals with his childhood, as the title suggests, and is written in the typical autistic conversational-explanational tone that so frequently graces our literature.  Mr. Page’s prose is more polished than most, I would say, which is likely due to his many years of wordsmithing.  

I call this autistic generation The Lost Generation, personally, because few of these autistic people avoided institutionalization, and those that did typically suffered immensely.  Autism was simply not understood, let alone supported.  There was no community to which we could find advice from others like us.  No comradery and fellowship.  No support services designed to meet our needs.  

Those of us that survived without being sent to the destructive prison-institutions typically bear scars and unhealthy adaptations from the experience.  Depression and anxiety are common.  For this author?  One of those unhealthy adaptations is a fixation on death.  This isn’t uncommon for autistic people- anything can turn into a hobby or fascination.  Morbid subjects aren’t unreasonable, especially when a close family member (such as the author’s grandfather) dies when the autistic person is young.  

In the author’s case, there are no gory details to be had.  His interest in the subject included a much-heightened fear of death and interests in deceased authors, musicians, and silent films.  I suspect this book would be quite a nostalgia trip for an older person, especially one that grew up in the Northeast US at around the same time.  In that sense, I am very much not the target audience.

One thing is painfully consistent regardless of generation, though.  The pain of living in a world that constantly misunderstands and willfully rejects you is clear throughout this book.  You can see this same pain in Liane Holliday Wiley‘s writing.  Both Tim Page and Liane suffered immensely, and neither of them had any kind of fellow autistic community.  They were simply alone, and found their way as best they could with other misfits.  

Another painful echo found in this book as well as other autistic accounts was perhaps summarized best by Jennifer Cook O’Toole: “How can I be so smart, yet so stupid?”  Tim Page mentions scoring well on IQ tests (though no specific numbers) a couple times in the book, and inevitably with those mentions also comes a certain disbelief, and the suggestion that his father might have tampered with the results.  I certainly have no special insight into that suggestion, but I suspect Mr. Page, like many people, operates on the idea that IQ is somehow a blanket score for intelligence.  

I strongly suspect I will go blue in the face before I ever finish convincing people that no, it is not.  IQ is a measure of how well a person is likely to learn in a typical school setting, using typical teaching methods.  It does not account for learning disabilities.  It does not cover common sense, emotional intelligence, musical ability, hand-eye coordination, and social skills.  It’s a highly restrictive scale that should only be considered useful in highly restrictive settings.  But because of the value people place on it, a person with a high IQ score is assumed to be good at all these other things.  When they turn out not to be, disappointment is about the kindest response I’ve seen.  Rejection, disbelief, and avoidance are significantly more common.

This aloneness and rejection tends to breed a mindset of “I don’t fit in and it’s my fault.  If only I wasn’t so ____, I would have friends and be happy.”  This sense of being wrong and bad is pervasive.  I should know: a part of me still believes that even though it’s definitely unhealthy, bad, and just flat-out wrong.  It’s the same poisonous mindset as believing that I can’t be beautiful because larger women can’t be beautiful (except for every other larger woman, because obviously the beauty industry is manipulative and horrible).  

It’s exactly these kinds of experiences that make it worthwhile for me to step forward and identify myself as autistic.  Simply knowing “there’s someone else like me” is a massive relief and boost to quality of life.  It’s why representation in the media, especially genuine representation, is so important.  Parents do better knowing autistic adults, because it gives them a picture of what their kids might grow to be.  Autistic kids can receive that same benefit, but they also can gain courage to be themselves.  Also strategies and insights they might never have had themselves.

In short, they can have the things I never had, and hopefully be healthier and happier humans for it.  We march to our own drums, we autistic people.  Each of us stunningly unique.  One day I hope that uniqueness won’t contain a rainbow of trauma as a given.  

Read This Book If

You want to experience a vivid slice of life narrative from an autistic man who grew up in the 50s and 60s.  They were a remarkably different time, those days before cell phones, and the Internet in everyone’s pocket.  This era wasn’t my era, but I think there’s value in knowing what life was like before the modern one… and in knowing the stories of the Lost Generation, perhaps find something of ourselves.

The Visual Guide to Asperger’s Syndrome: Helping Siblings, by Alis Rowe, is a plainspoken children’s book-sized publication focused on helping parents help siblings of autistic people adjust and thrive. I found this book in the autism section, not the children’s section, but it’s pretty clear from the font size and pictures where it’s meant to go. At less than 100 pages in large sized font, it’s not a long read.

I picked it up anyway because this is a vastly under-served and under-recognized need. There are hundreds, if not thousands of books geared towards educating parents and professionals. Even books specifically focused on other autistics, often written by the same. But very little has been done to help siblings of those on the spectrum cope with, say, the resentment of regularly being overlooked in favor of handling the autistic child’s special needs.

Sometimes, in the stress of everything that has to be done to manage the finances, support services, and even themselves, parents miss things. These things can include their own self-care and wellness, and it can also include making time for doing things with just the sibling(s). This is entirely understandable- after all, every autistic child is different, so there is no one “do this and everything will be fine” guide. Children are already challenging, even without factoring in unusual developmental patterns and the need for support services, specialized learning, etc.

Though all this happens unintentionally, it can be really hard on the neurotypical sibling(s). Anger, embarrassment, jealousy, and frustration are common. If autism isn’t well-explained, confusion and misunderstandings about why the autistic child is treated differently may result.

This book tackles the job of pointing out common pitfalls as well as providing answers and suggestions as to how to address each problem. It lists and addresses specific concerns and feelings a sibling might have, which I thought was useful as well as enlightening.

One thing I particularly appreciated was that the book spends time explaining the difference between a tantrum and a meltdown, which is an exceptionally important concept for family to understand. For the unfamiliar: tantrums are goal-oriented. The person throwing the tantrum wants the attention, or wants something (like candy, ice cream, a toy, etc), and when that want is met, the tantrum ends.

Meltdowns, on the other hand, are a response to overstimulated senses (like loud environments) or other adverse circumstances, and only end when the person has calmed down. The two behaviors look superficially the same, especially to someone unfamiliar with the person, but should be treated very differently.

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Start Here: a guide for parents of autistic kids, is a booklet available for sale or for free online from the Autistic Self Advocacy Network (ASAN), which is a group of adult autistics and parents of autistic people that got together to educate and advocate for the rights of autistic people.  The book is what it says on the tin: a starting place for parents who\’ve gotten the news their kid is or may be autistic, and are sitting back and going \”uhhh, now what..?\”  

Like many publications from ASAN, this is written in an easy-to-read style.  Complicated or specialized words are defined.  Important concepts are defined and repeated regularly to ensure understanding.  The writers don\’t shirk from pointing out the racism and sexism in the system, in addition to the prejudice against disabled people you\’d expect from such a book.  

In total, the book is 52 pages long, which is somewhere between a book and a pamphlet, I suppose.  The resource list begins on page 42, though, so you\’re really only reading about 40 pages.  I agreed with almost everything mentioned in the book, which was a nice change from some of my previous reads.  

Topics covered include: what autism actually is, communication differences, listening to autistic advocates, defining disability, presuming competence, choosing services, and schooling options.  It\’s all done in pretty broad brush strokes, and with the assumption that the parents in question live in the US.  (This isn\’t unreasonable, since ASAN mainly operates in the US.) 

My only disagreement with the publication was its section on vaccines.  I\’m afraid the subject is a great deal more complicated than this book makes it.  While the overall message isn\’t… entirely wrong, it\’s not accurate to say Dr. Wakefield put out a study that said the MMR vaccine causes autism.  He put out a set of case studies, or stories of children he was treating, that suggested the MMR vaccine might be related to their symptoms, including autism.  Case studies are a basis for further research, not a means of determining cause and effect.  By putting out the study, he was simply saying \”hey, someone should maybe look into this, because here\’s what happened with these people.\”  At no point in that study did he say, \”vaccines cause autism\” the way people seem to insist.

Also, vaccines are not always 100% safe, and in rare cases, can have side effects.  Even lifelong ones.  Pretending otherwise is absurd, since the VAERS exists to help track these.  I found it kind of unfair that the publication didn\’t even bother to mention Dr. Wakefield\’s doctorate.  I suspect this was done to give as little legitimacy as possible to the antivax movement, which some consider him a part of.  Still, it sits poorly with me to continue tarring an innocent man that way.  

Beyond that disappointment, this is a broadly useful resource that I feel fulfills the need it sets out to address.  

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The Game of My Life: A True Story of Challenge, Triumph, and Growing Up Autistic, by Jason \”J-Mac\” McElwain with David Paisner, is the story of one autistic guy\’s 15 minutes of fame.  It\’s less than 250 pages, mainly narrated by the autistic guy, with bookends from the other author.  

I found this book deeply disappointing, in retrospect.  Save for the blunt honesty of the star and some of the contributing family/friends, this is pretty much a textbook case of inspiration porn.  The vast majority of the book\’s focus is not Jason McElwain\’s life, his childhood, or his future.  It\’s basketball, and more specifically, one particularly meaningful game near the end of Jason\’s high school career.  

Jason\’s favorite hobby and intense interest in the story is basketball.  Terminology from that game is everywhere, including how the sections of the book are named.  It isn\’t too overwhelming, though I did have to look up how many players are in a basketball team (typically five) to understand why his fan club was called \”The 6th Man\” group.  

Bits and pieces are given of Jason\’s life prior to the basketball team, but only enough to give you the faintest amount of background… which is pretty in line with most news articles of the same type.  

A neat feature of this book, which I can now only consider a very extended inspiration porn news article, is that it folds in little pieces from Jason\’s family, friends, coaches, etc.  It\’s done in the conversational tone so common to other autistic writing, too, such that Jason will sometimes respond directly to what was said in those miniature pieces, or even vice versa.  

What I found most telling about this book, and where it became crushingly clear to me what I was reading, was at the end of the book, more than 200 pages in.  The writer here, probably David Paisner, calls it \”bittersweet.\”  I\’m not honestly sure where the sweet is.

The short version is that Jason\’s friends have graduated and, as is typical for that age, scattered to the four winds.  He rarely sees even the ones that remained in the area.  He did not graduate high school with a diploma, and at the time of the book, works as a baker at a supermarket.  A job which he seemingly enjoys, but not one where he does anything with the love of basketball and the team that this book is centered around.  

His parents\’ wish is for him to be able to live independently someday.  It\’s even said, and I quote, \”Forget the sectionals.  Forget the twenty-point game [both things the literal whole point of this book].  That would be the true pinnacle, if Jason could harness his abilities and his growing independence and find a way to make it on his own.\”  

The twenty points Jason scored in under 4 minutes, the feat that made this whole book and dozens of news stories, ESPN clips, etc, possible… and that\’s how they choose to talk about it at the end of the book.  \”Forget all that, this is what matters.\”  Talk about buckets of metaphorical cold water.

I think maybe why this gets my goat so much is that in the end, the 15 minutes of fame is over, and everyone except Jason has moved on.  Those 4 minutes and the surrounding time might be the best his life will ever be.  The community rallied around him, everyone celebrated him, and then it was over.

As a somewhat disabled autistic person, many jobs are closed to him.  Expectations are low.  Opportunities are minimal.  If this is all there is, and by the tone of the book, it pretty much is…  that\’s it.  

Maybe Jason feels otherwise, and I hope he does… but that\’s really depressing to me.  He\’ll likely live another few decades, and only have being a stocker or a clerk to look forward to.  I don\’t see why he couldn\’t learn to be a coach, or aim to be a team manager for a sports team like he was in high school.  Or, I should say, \”I don\’t see why unless he doesn\’t want to.\”  

In the end, this feels like a story of met potential, and then ignored potential.  I\’m aware that the 15 minutes of fame is called that because it goes away after 15 metaphorical minutes, but the expectations the other author and his parents seem to have for him are depressingly low.  

I don\’t know the guy, but I really hope things got better for him after this book was published.  That he did make it to living on his own (maybe with help, maybe without), finding a life partner if he wants one, pursuing whatever dreams he has.  I hope his parents give him the space to do those things, and don\’t stand in his way, afraid he\’ll be disappointed, the way his mother did over and over in the book.  

The struggle with autistic kids is figuring out when to let us try and succeed or fail on our own merits.  Because we don\’t develop at the same rate as our neurotypical peers, it can be really challenging to recognize when it\’s appropriate to do so.  Some parents will stand between their kids and almost every risk in the world, lest we fail and become disheartened.  Which, counterintuitively, steals our opportunities to learn and grow, and makes future failures extra-disheartening.  

Don\’t do that.  Let autistic people try things.  Don\’t treat failure as the end of the world, but instead recognize it as the normal part of life, and the learning experience, that it is.  

And definitely don\’t grab your kid\’s head between your hands to demand their attention.  Good Lord what a hideous, tyrannical action.  Jason hated it, and he says so in the book, and I\’ll back him up.  Don\’t. Do. This.  

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Divergent Mind: Thriving in a World That Wasn\’t Designed For You, by Jenara Nerenberg, is less of the practical guidebook I expected from the title, and more a work of history, philosophy, and suggestions and guidelines for changing the broadly disabling systems we live and work in.  Please also note that \”neurodivergent\” includes autism, but it also includes synesthesia, sensory processing disorder, ADHD, and more.  

The book begins with a section which read to me like a defense of the book\’s existence, which… kind of made me sad, because I\’ve only seen such things rarely, and usually by autistic adults needing to prove their viewpoint matters. The author says that this book was written in response to and in addition to Elaine Aron\’s \”The Highly Sensitive Person,\” published in 1996.  I suspect that book might also make for good reading.

Once the defense of the book\’s existence was done, it got into the deconstruction of the words and concepts we use to pathologize people, such as \”mentally ill.\”  The author presents the historical context and evolution of cultural thinking about neurological differences in the recent few centuries.  \”Female hysteria\” is one of the earlier terms discussed, obviously having its roots in the male-dominated thought processes of the day.  

The book also briefly covers more recent developments, like the rise and overdiagnosis of ADHD.  Generally, the point was that what we consider normal or abnormal changes depending on what\’s going on in the world and who has power.  There\’s also discussion of various diagnoses and how they are part of a larger phenomenon that\’s mainly been sidelined up \’til now.  

Finally, the third section talks about changes that can be made in the self, in the home, and in the workplace.  Again, this book doesn\’t really specialize in concrete ideas.  I\’m not at my best in terms of retaining information right now, but mainly what the author seemed to recommend was, \”listen to what you feel you would do well with, try things and keep the ones that work.\”  That included things like paying attention to the paint colors.  

Something that specifically stuck out to me was the suggestion of figuring out what colors appeal to you and making a point to have them around.  Which just reminded me that I tend to buy everything in blue or neutral tones.  I am currently wrapped in a pale blue blanket while typing this at my computer.  Next to me is a bright medium blue cloth organizer box.  My hair is currently two-toned sapphire and Carribean ocean blue.  My computer background is a blue-hued galaxy.  My water pitcher with built in filter is a dusky dark blue.  My pill organizer is blue.  A lot of my clothes are blue. 

Apparently I\’ve been subconsciously shaping my environment towards easing the burden on my senses for years.  Fortunately, my spouse doesn\’t mind my very strongly held preferences.  

I mostly liked this book, but I worry it doesn\’t have a lot to offer people without a lot of control over their lives.  Many autistic people live in poverty so they can get the support services they need.  That situation may not give the person (or their parents) the influence they need to change the paint color on the walls, let alone choose a career that doesn\’t strain their senses to the breaking point every day.  

I can\’t argue with the usefulness of at least teaching people to recognize the differences in their senses and experiences, and finding what ways they can to improve their lives.  Adding in a safe room, with colors to relax the person\’s senses, perhaps textures or smells that do the same, etc, would do pretty much any autistic person good.  

More concrete examples of changes people made in their lives, and how that helped them, would have helped make this book more accessible and useful to a broader audience, in my opinion.  As it stands, this is more of a philosophic piece about changing your mindset away from the disabling and limiting crap we\’ve been fed systemically.  While that\’s valuable, it\’s not immediately… actionable, I guess.  

Changing someone\’s overall mentality is valuable and important, but they have to have the time and energy to devote to it, and my fear is that many autistic people and their parents don\’t have those resources to spare in these unusually and overly interesting times.  

Read This Book If

The Charisma Myth: How Anyone Can Master the Art and Science of Personal Magnetism, by Olivia Fox Cabane, is a self-help style book on increasing your personal charisma.  This isn\’t a typical autism-related book, but since charisma factors into communication skills, I thought it might be an interesting read.  I wondered if there were tips that might help parents advocate for their children more effectively, and ideas that might help autistic people make ourselves heard and be truly listened to.  

As it turns out, this book does contain some things like that.  There is, in fact, a whole section just on body language.  Including a trick called mirroring, where you match your body language to the other person\’s, and then gradually shift towards more positive, open body language.  I\’m less than fond of this particular trick, as it feels coercive.  But this wouldn\’t be the first place I\’ve heard of it working.  

The book also helped explain some things about me, personally, though.  Like why I went through most of my childhood without much by way of friends or peer inclusion, but still received some kind of begrudging respect, even sometimes admiration and very thoroughly unwanted attention from some of the boys.  

There are, according to this book, three major pieces of charisma.  They are presence (which includes actively listening to and focusing on the conversation/person at hand), power (how wealthy, influential, intelligent, or socially important you seem), and warmth (how much goodwill and caring you seem to project).  

Now, most of my life has not gifted me with a whole lot of power.  Nor was I a terribly warm person when I was younger.  But presence?  I learned how to listen relatively young, from my mother.  A skilled listener herself, she counseled me that good listening included a genuine interest in the other person and what they had to say.  You don\’t merely wait until it\’s your turn to talk, but focus your attention entirely on the conversation and the other person.  And, as this book also mentioned, that people absolutely adore talking about themselves.  

It helps, I suspect, that I\’m not really very good at managing two streams of words at once.  When words are being spoken near me, that\’s where my brain is stuck.  So while most people might be able to listen halfheartedly to someone talk about sports, and still be thinking about this new video game they\’re wanting to try, I\’m pretty much just stuck hearing about sports.  

My personal oddness aside, much of this book involves a significant amount of mental reframing.  That is, changing how you view a situation, a person, or even yourself, using imagery or other techniques.  You do this so that your body language unconsciously changes to be more present, warm, and powerful.  

Maybe it\’s a bit cynical of me, but the emphasis on using your imagination to wave goodbye to your cares and feelings of responsibility so you can be your warmest, most present self… kind of worries me.  Really, any form of actively setting aside your view of reality so you can choose a magical dream world where people are grateful to you for being late to an important meeting (an actual example from the book) weirds me the heck out.  

The author works with a significant number of CEOs on this subject of charisma, as well as other upper management types, and in all honesty, I feel like those kinds of people need more reality, not less.  The author might say that such people should be getting the viewpoints of others by doing the listening portion of things… but in all honesty, this book is pretty much geared towards an egocentric viewpoint.  \”Do this so you can be better, more successful, etc.\”

Maybe it\’s because I\’m kind of leftist, but the constant \”me me me\” focus kind of wore on me over time.  I\’m aware that everyone, myself included, thinks they\’re the most important human in the world most, if not all, of the time.  But I also have concerns for those around me, and most of this book only engages with other humans as obstacles or people to be influenced and wowed (because you\’re so awesome). There\’s no particular acknowledgment of other people as… well, other living humans, with dimensions and value beyond the superficial \”what they can do for me.\”  The self-centered focus of the book just kind of left a bad taste in my mouth over time.

The book also has only mild concern for the ethics of using charisma to get your way.  There\’s a short section near the end, and that\’s about it.  It\’s framed more as \”here\’s some pitfalls that might make your life harder, so keep this in mind,\” rather than, I don\’t know, doing the right thing because it\’s the right thing to do?  So I wasn\’t much impressed with that either.

Read This Book If

You want a guidebook to the subject of charisma, or have an interest in increasing your effectiveness as a communicator.  Fellow autistic people, parents, professionals, random others, pretty much anyone could potentially benefit from this book.  The writing is approachable and fairly clear and to the point.  I found some of the mental techniques suggested rather ethically questionable, and the book itself was stunningly egocentric.  But the information is overall good, and can give you a starting point to increasing your communication success rate after you\’ve gotten past the basics of conversation.

Switch: How to Change Things When Change is Hard, by Chip Heath and Dan Heath, is a book about how to make change happen in ways we wouldn\’t normally think to use.  It\’s not an autism-focused book, but given how difficult change and transitions can be for autistic people (including me), I found it a useful read.

The book explains the players of making (or not making) a change as three distinct entities: emotions, logical mind, and the situation or environment.  If all three players are in alignment, the change is likely to happen easily.  If not, the change won\’t be easy, and maybe won\’t happen at all.

The very very TL;DR version is this: to effectively make a change that\’ll stick, the person (or entity) needs to be emotionally motivated to make the change.  They need a clear, understandable path to follow to make that change.  And finally, the environment needs support that change.  

To make my own version of their example…  a family with an autistic teenager is  having trouble with getting that teen to do their chores.  The mother has told the teen what chores they\’re responsible for, but the chores aren\’t getting done.  Yelling at them doesn\’t change things.  Taking away their allowance doesn\’t change things.  The punishment simply makes the teen resentful and sullen.  The chores still don\’t get done.  

What to do?  Well.  First, we can consider logic.  Does the teen understand exactly what\’s expected of them, and is there clearly specified day and time by which it must be done?  Are there any chores that routinely get done, and if so, why does the teen manage them but not the others?  Perhaps something could be done to make the other chores as doable as the ones that get done.  

The issue might also be emotional.  Depending on how the expectation of the chores was introduced, the teen may simply wonder why these jobs are suddenly their responsibility when Mom has always taken care of them \’til now.  Reframing the situation might be what\’s needed.  Instead of saying, \”You need to take care of these chores now or else you\’re in trouble!\” an alternative could be noting that the child\’s friends do their own laundry (or clean their rooms, or whatever), or that it\’s something that college-bound people take care of for themselves.  These reframe the job as something normal and expected from their peer group, or something to aspire to.  

Finally, there\’s the environment.  Is there an easily-accessible checklist or some kind of organizational aid they can reference?  Autistic people (and indeed, people in general) can lose the details of things.  Having a visual, accessible organizational system might be the key.  The teen may simply be forgetting what exactly is expected of them or what exactly is involved in their chores.  Spelling it out might be all that\’s needed.  Or, does the teen have a hamper into which they can put their dirty clothes, transport to the washer and dryer, then take the clean clothes back once they\’re done?  

The authors describe how each player (emotions, logic, and environment) can stumble, causing a hoped-for change to fail, and also how to remove those stumbling blocks.  They describe situations on a personal habits level, but also country-wide level.  Their ideas work for any size group, or any kind of person, and they give a multitude of examples from all kinds of situations.  

One of their main points is that these suggestions don\’t require any particular power or influence.  You don\’t have to be able to make laws, or have millions of dollars to throw at a problem.  You don\’t have to be a CEO or have the ability to make sweeping reforms to a situation.  The solutions they talk about are more \”if I wiggle this piece of the puzzle just so, stuff will change\” type deals.  

Obviously, it\’s not always so simple.  Sometimes you have to wiggle a few pieces, or even wiggle the pieces around the one you want to get at.  Still, the book gives adequate examples.  There\’s never just one thing you can do with a problem to nudge it towards the solution you want.  Usually, in the \”now let\’s apply this idea!\” sections, there\’s upwards of 6 different ways to solve the problem.  So if the one thing you thought of doesn\’t work, there\’s many more options.  

These sorts of solutions could be applied to self improvement, organizational policies, family dynamics, and even to autism advocacy.

Read This Book If

The Journal of Best Practices: A Memoir of Marriage, Asperger Syndrome, and One Man\’s Quest to Be a Better Husband, by David Finch, is a \”my life with autism\” story.  To be more precise, it\’s a \”how my wife and I saved our marriage, and it all started with an autism diagnosis\” story.  

Typically memoirs written by adult autistics are more \”full life\” stories, including a significant amount about childhood.  This one is quite tightly focused, which makes it unusual among its peers.  The focus on this book is the author\’s relationship with his wife: how it began, progressed, went terribly wrong, and slowly, painfully, began to successfully mend.  The book puts you inside the author\’s mind through the years of his experiences… sometimes beautiful and sweet, sometimes petty, cruel, and ugly.

The tone is pretty classically adult autistic.  At this point I think you could hand me any given book of this memoir style, and after 25 pages (or less) I could probably tell you if the author was autistic.  We have a certain type of conversational, explanatory straightforwardness that serves very neatly to identify us, in my opinion.  I couldn\’t tell you precisely why that would be a thing.  Typically I\’d assume it was cultural, and there is indeed an autism community to develop that culture now…  but I developed the same style of writing without being aware of that culture.  

The Journal of Best Practices, as Mr. Finch actually used it while trying to change himself and help rebuild his relationship with his wife, was actually not a book.  It was a nightstand drawer, a notebook, and a motley collection of post-its, odd ends of paper, and flipped over envelopes.  It was the work of years of pain, care, and vulnerability.  

In essence, this is the story of an adult autistic man using his strengths (intelligence, analytical abilities, attention to detail, perseverance), with his wife\’s incredibly patient help, to overcome his weaknesses (poor communications skills, low innate empathy, difficulty handling change).  

The difficulties Mr. Finch suffered weren\’t particularly novel when it comes to autistic people.  Many of his struggles I could personally identify with, and all were at least intellectually familiar.  Missing body language, not knowing how to talk to people, not being able to put your feelings into words, not recognizing when your spouse is upset, or when to stop talking… all these things are somewhat common to one extent or another for autistic people.  Perhaps simply to people, I don\’t know.  I\’ve never been neurotypical, after all.

I did thankfully miss out on some of mess Mr. Finch was required to address in mending his marriage.  Being born physically female and being from a family that, while not exceptionally expressive, at least didn\’t openly shun emotions… I was never fed the toxic bullshit that teaches people they must simply wall away their upset and never speak of it.  Finch was, and overcoming that vile dogma is a struggle.  Even if the person knows and believes it\’s a bad behavior to have, it\’s still difficult to unlearn.

Another point I differ with the author on is the empathy one.  Mr. Finch opines, based on behavior and test results, that he has very little empathy.  That skill (yes, skill, you can learn it) is both poorly defined and varies widely even in the general population. 

You can have a great deal of natural empathy, but fail to recognize a situation that merits it.  Or even having recognized it, truly have no idea how to comfort a person or respond appropriately.  Such people often come across as lacking empathy, even though they don\’t.  Or you can have a great deal of empathy and be nearly crippled by being unable to turn it off.  The author seems to struggle with the \”recognition of circumstances\” issue.

There\’s a couple more things to say about this book.  

First, the author goes very far out of his way to only paint himself as the bad guy in the failing relationship.  Very little time is spared to his wife\’s personal struggles and bad moments, save as understandable background.  For example, she had a bout with post-partum depression.  This, he talks about, but only in the kindest, most \”this was not her fault\” way.  Which, for that sort of thing, is quite accurate.  (Post partum depression is nobody\’s fault.)

However… I am in a marriage that\’s been on the metaphorical rocks like this at one time.  The problem is never, ever, just one person in the relationship.  And while the wife points that fact out, repeatedly, the fact remains that the description of difficulties and changes were all on the autistic author\’s side of things.  Nothing (or very little) is said of changes the neurotypical wife needed to make.  

And while plenty of his pettiness, cruelties, anger issues, and other sub-optimal behaviors are described in this book… nothing at all is mentioned of hers, save in a quote or two that… strike me as kind of unkind even though the flow of the narrative doesn\’t seem to even notice.  

So, I can see why the author would do make the choice to do this.  By only portraying himself as the failure point in the relationship, he avoids any additional damage to his relationship by avoiding literally all arguments about who said what, and what was meant, and whether it should be included or not.  

Point two, though…  is that\’s not realistic.  Nor is it kind to other autistic people in difficult relationships.  In a difficult time in a relationship, both (or all) members have to be resolved to mending the relationship, and the time and effort that will take.  They have to be willing to take a hard look at themselves- not the other person, themselves-  and say \”this needs to change, it needs to change now, and I need to change it.\”  

So yes, the autistic person needs to figure out a journal of best practices or what have you… but the focus shouldn\’t just be on that person to change themself and thereby fix the whole relationship.  That\’s not healthy, not fair, and not kind.  In that regard, I feel this book does a disservice to autistic people.  

In the author\’s defense, this is a stunningly difficult subject to write about.  Even with the self-demonizing stylistic choice, such things aren\’t common.  I presume that\’s because most people don\’t care to talk about their personal failings at length.  Especially if a failed marriage or nearly failed marriage is in the picture.  Exhibit A is typing this book review for you right now.  (My spouse and I are doing okay now, fyi.)

The last thing to note about this book is that at no point does the author really gush about his wife or say things like \”I love her very much.\”  Like many autistic people, Finch is extremely practical in his descriptions and appreciation.  He\’ll tell you exactly why, in detail, his wife is a wonderful human, but won\’t go into much by way of mushy emotional stuff.  

Which made me wonder if perhaps he\’s the sort of person that, like many autistic people, forgets to say \”I love you\” as well as demonstrate that love.  That\’s a difficult pill for some parents and spouses to swallow, that their loved one simply doesn\’t feel the need to repeat the sentiment, or even speak it once.  It\’s the sort of thing that can be taught, but knowing to do so is sometimes beyond us.  

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