The Bottom Line
By Paul Collins; 245 pages. From the book jacket: "A haunting journey into the borderlands of neurology -- a meditation on what ‘normal’ is, and how human genius comes to us in strange and wonderful forms.”
Collins is the father of a child with autism, but this isn’t a standard diagnosis-struggle-triumph memoir. Interspersed with scenes of his son, Morgan, is the author’s research on autistic figures from the past, especially an 18th-century “wild boy.” It’s a fascinating mix of relatability and research.
Pros
- Personal story is relatable and moving.
- Historical stories are fascinating and enlightening.
- Engaging writing style makes book a pleasure to read.
- Offers positive depiction of teachers and therapists.
- Parents appreciate their child without needing to "triumph" over anything.
Cons
- Those interested in the personal story may be frustrated by the historical interruptions.
- Those interested in the historical tales may be frustrated by the personal interruptions.
- The whole thing is fairly rambling, without a big payoff (rather like life).
- Some pieces of research are more interesting, developed or to-the-point than others.
- Maybe dads can only write books like this because moms are home doing the real work.
Description
- Part One: The Wild Boy
- Part Two: Fallen from the Sky
- Part Three: Dear Chromophone
- Part Four: Safety in Numbers
- Further Reading
- Sources
Guide Review - Book Review: Not Even Wrong - Adventures in Autism
Why do memoirs written by mothers tend to deal with the day-to-day, heartache-to-heartache experience of wresting a child from the grip of a dread disability, while memoirs written by fathers often dabble as much in the research and history of said disability as the particulars of their child’s case? Somebody’s got to be holding down the fort while those dads do their work, I guess, and it’s the moms who do it. That’s alright with me, really; when it comes down to it, I’d rather read the sort of perceptive mix of the personal and the historical that fills books like “Not Even Wrong.” That heartache-to-heartache stuff, I live every day. Who needs to read about it?
Which is not to say there’s not a lot that is moving and relatable in this engaging book -- scenes like this one will be instantly recognizable to any parent who’s suffered through an evaluation gone wrong, and the way in which Collins and his wife, Jennifer, deal with their son’s diagnosis, schooling and therapies while never losing their enjoyment of him is plenty inspirational. But you may think sympathetically of Jennifer, home with Morgan and the everyday stress of parenting a child with special needs while her husband flies around doing his research. Those who love quirky historical tales -- and I’ll admit, I’m one -- will be glad she let him out of the house. There’s a lot to learn from personal stories, but the past can hold some fascinating answers, too.
