Atypical: Life with Asperger's in 20 1/3 Chapters, by Jesse A. Sapersteen, is not to be confused with the TV show of the same name. The author, in his late 20s at the time of writing this book, shares stories of his life and childhood in an honest, sometimes impolite, but always friendly, tone of voice. I personally think it's kind of odd to write memoirs prior to actually being, like, 60ish years old, but whatever makes the book sell, I guess. (Also, I suppose I should note that the life expectancy for autistic people is at least a decade less, so maybe this is less "you can't write memoirs, you're still young!" and more "it's a bit premature, but okay" territory.)
When confronted with your own indelible weirdness, there are two reactions that people may have. They may either retreat into themselves, trying to avoid attention, growing quieter, even trying to change themselves to better fit in. Or they may instead magnify their oddities, trying to make people accept them despite the first, 5th, and 15th rejections. You're not stuck for life in whichever response you take, and people may choose one route or the other depending on the circumstances.
So herein lies the most vivid difference between myself and the author: Mr. Sapersteen mainly, vigorously, chose the latter route. By his own words, he chose to be a class clown and live out his weirdness. It took him a very long time to learn to filter his words. And he experienced tons of rejection in the process, from every conceivable direction. Very few people have patience or tolerance for a person that sticks out like a sore thumb and makes little apparent effort to consider the feelings of others.
I chose, in large part, the former route. On my own, I studied neurotypical behavior very hard, trying to figure out why I was so avoided, and learned to fit in better as a result. I also developed depression from the stress, and an anxiety disorder from the effort of processing so much information. Because I was quiet, I was ignored in favor of louder, more visible people with problems.
Neither of these two paths is particularly invalid, but they both come with crushing consequences. I didn't get my diagnosis until I was in my early 20s, by which point it was far too late to do much but pick up the pieces of my childhood and try to forge onward into my adulthood. The author got his diagnosis younger (though not much), and proceeded to weird out pretty much everyone he met despite having that diagnosis.
I will say that my route, which has come to be called camouflaging in some circles, is linked pretty heavily to suicidal thoughts and self-harm actions... though by the sound of it, Mr. Sapersteen spent a good period of time suffering from the latter, and perhaps the former as well. Both of us spent a great deal of time frustrated by the cruelty and thoughtlessness of our peers, the authority figures who were supposed to help us, and the world overall.
In the end, I'm not really sure which method is better for spreading autism awareness and teaching the general populace that we, too, are people. Mr. Sapersteen's in-your-face tendencies, while modulated by adulthood, make the issue impossible to avoid... but also likely cause a great deal of resentment, even when the matter is well-explained with the diagnosis. Whereas mine let me go mostly undetected, but people are then startled and hurt when my disguise isn't perfect... and also I miss dozens if not hundreds of teaching opportunities by blending in.
I suppose, like many things in life, moderation is the best bet. As Mr. Sapersteen grew older, he learned to temper his words, and to hold back some of his less-acceptable behaviors. As I've aged, I've lost a lot of patience with acting neurotypical and have proceeded to stop making as many socially-acceptable excuses for myself. I've started ditching situations that make me uncomfortable rather than suffering through them, and started calling people out on being thoughtless or outright cruel to minorities and people with disabilities.
Compare and contrast aside, Mr. Sapersteen is a very colorful writer. He writes clearly and thoughtfully, making his points with aplomb. Potential readers should be warned that he writes his point of view without mind for your potential discomfort. While I find that honesty refreshing, if occasionally difficult to swallow, others may not be used to such direct and blatant discussion of the subject matter... which includes his introduction to sexuality, his experiences with bullying, and all of his idiosyncrasies (there are many).
When confronted with your own indelible weirdness, there are two reactions that people may have. They may either retreat into themselves, trying to avoid attention, growing quieter, even trying to change themselves to better fit in. Or they may instead magnify their oddities, trying to make people accept them despite the first, 5th, and 15th rejections. You're not stuck for life in whichever response you take, and people may choose one route or the other depending on the circumstances.
So herein lies the most vivid difference between myself and the author: Mr. Sapersteen mainly, vigorously, chose the latter route. By his own words, he chose to be a class clown and live out his weirdness. It took him a very long time to learn to filter his words. And he experienced tons of rejection in the process, from every conceivable direction. Very few people have patience or tolerance for a person that sticks out like a sore thumb and makes little apparent effort to consider the feelings of others.
I chose, in large part, the former route. On my own, I studied neurotypical behavior very hard, trying to figure out why I was so avoided, and learned to fit in better as a result. I also developed depression from the stress, and an anxiety disorder from the effort of processing so much information. Because I was quiet, I was ignored in favor of louder, more visible people with problems.
Neither of these two paths is particularly invalid, but they both come with crushing consequences. I didn't get my diagnosis until I was in my early 20s, by which point it was far too late to do much but pick up the pieces of my childhood and try to forge onward into my adulthood. The author got his diagnosis younger (though not much), and proceeded to weird out pretty much everyone he met despite having that diagnosis.
I will say that my route, which has come to be called camouflaging in some circles, is linked pretty heavily to suicidal thoughts and self-harm actions... though by the sound of it, Mr. Sapersteen spent a good period of time suffering from the latter, and perhaps the former as well. Both of us spent a great deal of time frustrated by the cruelty and thoughtlessness of our peers, the authority figures who were supposed to help us, and the world overall.
In the end, I'm not really sure which method is better for spreading autism awareness and teaching the general populace that we, too, are people. Mr. Sapersteen's in-your-face tendencies, while modulated by adulthood, make the issue impossible to avoid... but also likely cause a great deal of resentment, even when the matter is well-explained with the diagnosis. Whereas mine let me go mostly undetected, but people are then startled and hurt when my disguise isn't perfect... and also I miss dozens if not hundreds of teaching opportunities by blending in.
I suppose, like many things in life, moderation is the best bet. As Mr. Sapersteen grew older, he learned to temper his words, and to hold back some of his less-acceptable behaviors. As I've aged, I've lost a lot of patience with acting neurotypical and have proceeded to stop making as many socially-acceptable excuses for myself. I've started ditching situations that make me uncomfortable rather than suffering through them, and started calling people out on being thoughtless or outright cruel to minorities and people with disabilities.
Compare and contrast aside, Mr. Sapersteen is a very colorful writer. He writes clearly and thoughtfully, making his points with aplomb. Potential readers should be warned that he writes his point of view without mind for your potential discomfort. While I find that honesty refreshing, if occasionally difficult to swallow, others may not be used to such direct and blatant discussion of the subject matter... which includes his introduction to sexuality, his experiences with bullying, and all of his idiosyncrasies (there are many).
Read This Book If
You're interested in getting inside the skull of a particularly colorful, charismatic, and brutally honest (but somehow still cheerful) autistic person. Parents, teachers, and other autistic people may find this book educational. It's an entertaining and enlightening read, though definitely not a place to start if you've just received an autism diagnosis (or your child has). As with all "my life with autism" books, keep in mind Dr. Stephen Shore's often quoted phrase: "If you've met one person with autism, you've met one person with autism."
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