Okay, I think I see what you're saying. That it's nice to read a story that doesn't have a bunch of emotional content and waffling about to wade through. Basically that it isn't a character-heavy story, even though it sounds from how you describe it as a character-heavy story, just a dispassionate one. From here that's where it seems the source of the problem lies, that it's overly concerned with the character but presents his perspective as completely devoid of emotion. Does he even show fear or anxiety during his sensory overloads?
I'd say it's a kind of post-moderny thing. The plot-action in and of itself is very light. Most of it is focused on exploring how a particular character interacts with the world. That's not necessarily bad, but yes, his perspective has no emotion to it; it's just a raw descriptor of action.
And the thing is, that level of emotional detachment kind of makes sense for an autistic character (from what I've read by autists who were reviewing the book), but it would have to be attached to less self-awareness and logical capacity. For a character with Asperger's, it doesn't quite make sense as a default--because in general, that disorder is characterized by a desire for social interaction, but a general inability to carry it out properly. Even estranged from other people, he never notices his otherness at all... and that's somewhat surprising, to be honest. The work is so obsessed with his otherness that he disappears under its weight. He has no personality. His interests are stereotypical and yet there is no emotion behind them.
He doesn't show fear or anxiety, no. I know that when I get overloaded, the overwhelming internal narrative is something like "fuck fuck fuck have to fix this how do I fix this." There's a jumble of thoughts, reaching for deeper breathing, for something rough to touch, for an escape route, for a mathematical pattern, for a poem, for a piece of music, for something I can pour myself into and study, all while attempting to do damage control on my behavior and keep from attracting too much notice. If it were as easy as curling up and groaning, I might do that. But it isn't. Having been transformed into a jumble, my thoughts don't wind up coherent enough to just go "> Vector: curl up and groan." It's more like "> Vector: get out fix it now close your eyes hum hit something find a rough thing look for squares hit something touch your face are they looking at you get out fix it now fix it now fix it now count. Counting? Okay, touch something rough. Stand still. No, don't stare, find somewhere to sit. Don't look at anyone. No, don't let your posture debalance, look at the floor and keep balanced. Have a book? Okay, just sit down and curl up and read it. That doesn't look too strange. Don't talk to anyone. Just sit there..."
There's a reason why I take a book absolutely everywhere I go, with no exceptions, and pretty much exclusively wear cotton. Rough enough to calm me down (when I'm having trouble, touching smooth things--especially stuff like apples--can make everything even worse), smooth enough that it doesn't set me off by itself.
Furthermore, all of the spectrum-folks I know were simply overjoyed every time they were able to discuss the things they loved. Flat characteristics became animated and overwhelmingly happy. And, as for me, sometimes when I study math it is as though a god where whispering in my ear, shaking me, subsuming me, leaving nothing of Vector behind but a channel through which that voice blows.
And I'm not even a savant.
Vector, that book was about autism, the main char was a math genius but had huge issues with thought process and social interactions. I loved the book
. . .
Oh, it was about autism? Man, I didn't catch that. Thanks =) You know how it is with us folks on the spectrum, who have no ability of recognizing when anyone else is supposed to be on it.
Allow me to make this completely clear: I was diagnosed with Asperger's by two different psychiatrists in October of 2009. Since then, I have read book after book on the subject, written by folks with autism, folks with AS, neurotypicals, etc. I've read around on forums both celebrating (wrongplanet) and condemning autism (ASpartners. If you look for it, please let it be known that I warned you. For me, at the least, it was extremely triggery). I dated a guy with nasty AS for two years; basically every friend I've ever had was fairly deep into the spectrum. I've read things by people with LFA, HFA, AS, PDD-NOS, and everything in-between (including an autobiography by, surprise surprise, an autistic savant math genius). Those "things" included reviews of the book, where in general the statement was:
"We liked it because it was more like us, but it really wasn't quite right and we're somewhat upset about all the people saying it gives insight into
the autistic/Asperger's mind."
Again, and again, and again. I can link you to the threads and blogs if you like, but I'd rather not waste the time.
And as for me, I am currently exploring what bothered me about that book and its interactions with the general neurotypical public. It bothered me. My emotion. I own it. So I'm thinking about it, and I'm talking about it.
If you want to say "You don't
really have AS, so you have no right," then I guess I understand. I felt that way for a long time, too. How could I possibly be considered like that? As many people have told me, it's impossible, because I'm not annoying, and because I have insight into human beings. In other words, all the stuttering, missing social cues, and so on doesn't matter, because it's not a dysfunctionality that actively annoys other people. It's dysfunctional behavior that annoys mostly me, because I basically live a hermit's life in an effort to keep from fucking up. And yes, I do have sensory problems, and yes, I have had meltdowns and shutdowns, and yes, I do have those moments when the world shudders to a halt, and you realize that when you trawl your memories for social information that information just doesn't exist and you're screwed.
When I was first teaching myself to hold conversations, at the age of 18, I promised myself that I wouldn't eat any meal but breakfast alone. I basically didn't eat for a week and a half because it was so unbearable and exhausting to navigate sitting across from someone and trying to converse. I'd talk to someone, and then I'd be so tired that I'd just go to my room and fall asleep.
But I usually don't talk about that here, because it's fucking embarrassing.
So it's your choice to deny that or not, and thus invalidate my opinion. But as for the rest of it, there is absolutely no need to tell me what the bloody book was about. I'm discussing it in an effort to get people like you and me and my ex-boyfriend and all the people I grew up with more rights, and to advocate talking to autistic people rather than reading books that neurotypical folks wrote about them--because there's a huge fucking problem with that, and no one is batting an eye as groups like Autism Speaks advocate genocide. Please don't make my job harder. I'm already standing up in front of a classroom of neurotypical asshats on Tuesday, showing my neck, and handing them a knife.
Knowing my previous experience with these people and with others, they will cut. But I'm doing it anyway.
It's not that I'm scared of being seen with it, it's that I'm scared of what it means.
I don't mean to belittle your experience, so if I am doing so, then please forgive me.
But I have faith that you can make it through this. I've had similar identity crises, and it may be hard, but you will be okay if you just keep trying to stay the course. It'll get better, and we're all here for you, to listen to you, and to take care of you. So do your best to be brave and keep on trying.