Inaccessibility has never been so accessible.

Publisher: Crown (Random House)
Pages: 354
Type: Non-Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-307-88484-8
First Published: 15th January 2013
Date Reviewed: 10th April 2013
Rating: 5/5

Robison recounts his time as a parent with Asperger’s, bringing up a child from birth to the teenage years. Involving stories of entrepreneurship, life when society doesn’t always understand you, and court cases when people make mountains out of molehills, Robison’s book is about himself as much as it is his son’s progression and the possibility that Cubby (Jack) might have Asperger’s, too.

Raising Cubby is a wonderful book that is successful as much for what it doesn’t say than for what it does. Robison takes the approach of organising his book by topic rather than by life stage, meaning that you read a lot more about Jack than you might have if the story had been completely linear. And whilst Robison has much to impart about Autism, he does it in a way that invites the reader into the fold. The book seems fresh, and it is, because you have the first-hand experience rather than an account by someone who knows someone with a condition, as is so often the case.

Robison balances serious statements with a lot of easy humour. His book is in the vein of that new phrase, ‘literary non-fiction’, where the story flows as well as any novel. It is an account, but it feels as though he is talking directly to you at times, and his humour invites a certain intimacy – you will finish this book feeling as though you’ve known the people in it for years.

This leads us onto the next point, because this affability and invitation seems at odds with what Robison describes of himself and of Autism in general. Taken at face value, as he says, those on the autistic spectrum can seem rude and anti-social. So the accessibility of his book knocks that notion out of the water. Which is brilliant, really, as it further backs up the truth of the matter, which, as Robison says, is that those on the spectrum wish to have friends, but happen to be oblivious to the way they come across to others.

The last point in the previous paragraph does not in turn relate to the writing in the book, however. Robison speaks naturally and has a good command of language, you would expect an English degree to be amongst his accolades. This in itself may surprise some readers, and by itself makes the book stand out as one that would be an invaluable source to schools and any organisations that struggle to understand those on the spectrum. But in addition, Robison writes honestly, he never censors himself – in other words he includes decisions he’s made that might sound strange to many, without any hint of apology or explanation. He clarifies the first few times, so that you will be able to tell where his Asperger’s has played a part in decisions, but otherwise there is nothing. Therefore when things sound odd there are no excuses – this is Robison, this is an example of Asperger’s, and as a reader you just get used to it. Robison explains the logic to some decisions so that you come to understand his mindset, but the overall approach means that not only will the uninformed reader come away knowing a lot more about Autism than they would any book by unaffected ‘experts’ but readers with autism will likely be able to relate to it, too, especially since there is no time for patronisation or misplaced sympathy. Raising Cubby is very much a book for anyone.

Due to the inclination for obsessive interests, readers who love the following topics will find in this book fodder for them: the upkeep and alteration of musical instruments, repairing and refurbishing cars, building homes, and chemistry. There is enough information about trading card games to appeal to those who may have had trouble leaving them behind with childhood. It’s not that the book is lengthy with masses of information, it’s the way that information is incorporated throughout. Robison is a geek, and the reader can rest assured that they can join him without any of the eye-rolling or sighs that often accompany responses when an attempt is made to discuss a beloved subject in person.

…the Commonwealth of Massachusetts had also charged him with one count of “possessing explosives with the intent to harm people or property”. I guess that was their backstop – if they couldn’t prove he harmed people or destroyed property, they wanted to prove he meant to.

The book is striking for many reasons, but one reason is far removed from the others. As Cubby, a child genius with no understanding for how others would view him, experimented with chemistry, the law inevitably arrived at the door. This episode gives Robison the opportunity to call into question the vast chasm that is rules made for the typical person coming up against people for whom they cannot work. Robison shows how naivety and disability are exploited for gain by others, and how the rules need to be changed. The account of Cubby’s trial inevitably calls to mind the case of Gary Mackinnon, a British man with Autism who hacked into the Pentagon computers to find evidence of aliens. Robison’s account may not refer to it, but the two events run neatly in line. Things are not black and white, especially when disability is involved.

Robison may have an epilogue that hopes for changes in the court system, further progression for acceptance, and education in society of those who do not match the expectations of society, but the strength of his book surely lies most in the overall approach and content. Raising Cubby is a brilliant book for general reading, but there is no doubt that the best future for it would be in the consumption by those who deal with people on the spectrum on a constant basis and who as yet lack the information necessary to both help their charges excel, and excel as teachers themselves.

I received this book for review from Crown Publishers.

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Both literally and metaphorically tangled.

Publisher: Legend Press
Pages: 234
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-909039-45-2
First Published: 1st April 2013
Date Reviewed: 7th April 2013
Rating: 5/5

When Jeff joins his activist friend, Marcus, at a protest, he ends up giving his name to a woman who mistakenly believes he is a famous political blogger. Interested in Marie, Jeff keeps up a pretence, saying he goes to an office to blog when he’s really at a 9-5, and moving conversation away from ‘his’ blog by saying he doesn’t want to talk about work at home. But how long can it last?

A Virtual Love is a particularly ‘current’ work that looks at a great many themes via the main premise. Narrated by everyone but the main character, the book studies issues such as old age, the affects of loneliness, and, of course, the power (or in some cases destruction) wielded through technology.

What is apparent from the start is that this book isn’t going to contain your standard narration. Many novels use multiple narrators, but Blackman presents a particular sort of second-person. Every word in the book is addressed to Jeff, but it’s apparent that Jeff is not there to hear it. The atmosphere offers up solutions such as a witness statement, or revengeful letter, the very fact of Jeff’s absence being much like the fluidity of personality on the web that Blackman examines. And as each person presents a different version of Jeff to the one previously, at least in most cases, it opens the discussion to reality. Jeff has many profiles online, but of course in real life there are differences, too.

The range of narrators inevitably means that a further reference to personality can be made. The narrators are all unique enough that it doesn’t matter in the least that on occasion Blackman takes his time before formally identifying, for the reader, whose account they are currently reading. Each character has their own voice and is strongly situated in their own contexts and backgrounds; the style of writing differs per chapter. This can be quite a shock when you’ve settled into the routine days of Jeff’s grandfather, only to turn the page to the swearing and prejudice of Jeff’s friend.

That said, the text does of course retain throughout the same basic features that signify Blackman’s own voice. Short sentences lead to a slower pace of narration, at delectable odds with the speed of broadband and the way thoughts are soon lost under the deluge of newer thoughts. And whilst the premise may be of interest in our modern times, somewhat ironically up-to-the-minute, it is perhaps the issues behind this that will remain with you in the long-term. Rather fitting, really.

And the issues are big, ranging from the moment to the eternal. Blackman studies old age and the way there is that gap of understanding between the generations. A certain thread explores the lack of understanding between the current older generation’s relative slowness when compared to today’s instant world. Blackman looks at political issues and key figures, at work-life balance and work places in general – indeed some chapters can feel monotonous until you realise that’s the point. And unsurprisingly there is love, and the identity of those who bask in the glory of others. Computer topics such as hacking and maintaining a web presence obviously play a part in the book. And there are the scary details that are always in the background – how does one react when identities are stolen, how easy is it to lose yourself in that manner, and how should we be presenting ourselves online in the first place?

Amidst all this you would expect no lasting humour, but there is some to break away from what you discover is an accurate description of most people’s lives. And you want to break away because reading the words unmasks just how boring routine can be.

There are a couple of points to contend with. Marie refers to herself as a blogger, mostly at the start, but appears to forget to write once she starts her relationship with Jeff. And one must wonder that for all the successful lying from Jeff, she would not have noticed, for example, that he had a suspect Twitter account (Marcus discusses their relationship there, openly). But then given Marie’s infatuation with the man she believes is her hero, and some words later on that suggest that Marie’s purity of intentions are in fact not at all in the ‘right’ place, these are not as important a couple of problems as they might have been. Undoubtedly there is that factor of unreliability with the narrators. The ending may also prove unexpected – what you may expect is not necessarily what Blackman wished to look into. In fact if he had it might have detracted from, and thus devalued, everything he had wanted to say.

A Virtual Love does not expose Internet issues in the world – those have been studied and discussed many times already. What it does do is look at the issues from a specific viewpoint, the very narrowness of its scope leading to unique observations that are important, ones that are often forgotten and deemed as minor. It won’t keep you up at night flipping pages for intrigue, because as the reader you know what’s been going on, but it will keep you flipping pages for what it does include. This is a book that is so relevant right now that you might be surprised at how quickly you finish it, its accessibility spanning many levels. You might not like the characters – who could? – but you might just like this book. A lot.

I know the author as a fellow book blogger.

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Speaking to Andrew Blackman about On The Holloway Road, and A Virtual Love (spoilers included)

Charlie Place and Andrew Blackman discuss life on the road, following in Jack Kerouac’s footsteps, offline and online identity, writing an entire book about a character but never giving them a voice, current climate change activism, and withholding – for very good reason – the endings your readers expect.

If you’re unable to use the media player above, this page has various other options for listening.