In order to get out of my reading rut, I've picked up a few books on Asperger's Syndrome. Most recently, I've read The Curious Incident of the Dog in The Night-Time by Mark Haddon, and The Rosie Project by Graeme Simsion.
You can read the summary of Haddon's book here and Simsion's book here.
While the books certainly got me out of my rut (I devoured both books in a matter of days), upon reflection, I was left with a sort of troubled feeling. I first shrugged that feeling off as a symptom of reading a text that hit too close to home, but I later realized that it was actually my experience with Asperger's that made me easily pinpoint the fact that these writers were creating outlines of a diagnosis, rather than unique, fleshed-out people.
That's not to say I didn't enjoy the books. The plot lines were riveting, the secondary characters leaped off the page, and both texts were overall pleasant reads. But there is an inherent problem in viewing these texts as the holy grail of autism-depiction.
The protagonists in each book were at completely different stages of their lives, had different experiences, and were, shockingly, different people. However, on the page, they seemed uncomfortably similar in character, and followed a strict list of qualifications that make someone autistic:
-Views every situation as a formula
-Excessively analytical/scientific
-Lacks empathy
-Cannot understand the reason behind certain social niceties/social cues
While it is inevitable that everyone with Asperger's faces the same general issues, they don't magically lack personality because of the diagnosis. Yes, Christopher had a particular tenderness for animals and Don was a foodie, but these additions were thrown in in such a clunky, poorly thought-out way, it was almost as though the authors were going "oh wait! My autistic character needs a hobby" rather than saying "my [insert fleshed-out quality here] character needs a flaw."
And before you go off on me for calling Asperger's a flaw, let me acknowledge the fact that I mean this in the context of fiction (i.e. an internal/external struggle that makes life hard for the protagonist).
Rather than understand each character's personal struggle with social interaction, I was distracted by the fact that the authors kept saying they were trying to figure out the "scientific formula" for interacting with another human being. It would be a lot more telling (or at least more interesting) to understand what the characters were thinking during an awkward social encounter, or what their biggest fears about socialization were.
Not only do these characters exhibit the exact same laundry list of "autistic mannerisms," but they feed into the commonly believed half-truths about Asperger's syndrome. A huge misconception about a person with Asperger's is that he cannot feel empathy. It was almost straight of a textbook to read about Don's inability to understand the pain of the 9/11 victims.
This is a gross oversimplification. People with Asperger's are not sociopaths. They can feel empathy. The difference here is that they express their empathy in ways that a neurotypical cannot recognize or understand.
You'd think that getting a first-person narrative would help shed some light on that issue. But it doesn't.
Some of the most empathetic people I know also happen to be on the spectrum. For instance, there was a kid who was hanging out with his neighbor, but once said neighbor started lighting ants on fire for fun (twisted view of fun, but okay), he stormed back to his house in a rage that the ants were in pain and suffering.
That's some pretty deep empathy, if you ask me.
Another thing that gets to me about the depiction of Asperger's is that the characters go around announcing every textbook symptom they have. Like, "don't mind me, I'll just be over here avoiding eye contact and misinterpreting social cues."
That's a painfully self-conscious narrative. Most of us don't go announcing our flaws: "hey, nice to meet you; I'm a total commitment-phobe who also has abusive tendencies!"
I think not.
Maybe I've just met some strange individuals, but the least interesting thing to aspies I know (I really hate that word, but there's only so many times you can type "person with Asperger's" before wanting to smash your head with a hammer) is the qualities that make them different. A really authentic portrayal would be having the protagonist rant about dinosaurs for ten minutes whilst forgetting to say hello to someone.
I get that characters in novels are more poignantly self-aware, but still. There's gotta be a more natural way to integrate autistic behaviors.
Then again, I've only read two books on the matter. I'm sure part II will happen at some point in the future when I'm more well-read.
Have a lovely New Year, dear reader. And just remember for your New Years parties: Don't do what I WOULD do. That's what we here at Coffee, Yoga, and Life's Other Necessities call alcoholism.
Namaste.
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