Look Me in the Eye: My Life with Asperger'sby John Elder Robison
“As sweet and funny and sad and true and heartfelt a memoir as one could find.” —from the foreword by Augusten Burroughs
Ever since he was young, John Robison longed to connect with other people, but by the time he was a teenager, his odd habits—an inclination to blurt out non/b>/b>/i>
NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER
“As sweet and funny and sad and true and heartfelt a memoir as one could find.” —from the foreword by Augusten Burroughs
Ever since he was young, John Robison longed to connect with other people, but by the time he was a teenager, his odd habits—an inclination to blurt out non sequiturs, avoid eye contact, dismantle radios, and dig five-foot holes (and stick his younger brother, Augusten Burroughs, in them)—had earned him the label “social deviant.” It was not until he was forty that he was diagnosed with a form of autism called Asperger’s syndrome. That understanding transformed the way he saw himself—and the world. A born storyteller, Robison has written a moving, darkly funny memoir about a life that has taken him from developing exploding guitars for KISS to building a family of his own. It’s a strange, sly, indelible account—sometimes alien yet always deeply human.
Although this memoir deals with some dark topics-including Asperger's syndrome, family alcoholism and mental illness-debut author Robison maintains a keen humor and sense of dramatic irony throughout. The gravelly voiced Robison proves to be a capable storyteller, whether describing the pranks he used to play on his much younger brother (Augusten Burroughs, who reads his foreword) or the relief of finally being diagnosed with Asperger's in middle age after a lifetime of social isolation and relatively odd behaviors. Robison is a vocal and emphatic advocate for Asperger's, which he insists is not a disease but a different-and sometimes better-neurology. Asperger's gave Robison a single-minded ability to focus on his love of electronics, giving him a place in the world as the wizard behind Kiss's smoking and flaming guitars or, later in life, a gift for diagnosing and fixing high-end imported cars. This memoir is highly entertaining and the abridgment is smoothly edited. Simultaneous release with the Crown hardcover (Reviews, July 9). (Oct.)Copyright 2007 Reed Business Information
First-time writer Robison diagnosed himself with Asperger's syndrome after receiving Tony Attwood's groundbreaking work on the subject from a therapist friend ten years ago. In his well-written and fascinating memoir, the fifty-something brother of Augusten Burroughs (Running with Scissors) addresses the difficultly of growing up in a household with an abusive and alcoholic father, the social problems he encountered at school, and his great affinity for mechanics. It made no difference that he lacked a high school diploma-Robison's natural skills landed him work as an automobile restorer, Milton Bradley engineer, and stagehand responsible for the pyrotechnic guitars used by rock band KISS in the late 1970s. Despite these successes, the author suffered social difficulties while developing his ability to connect with and understand machines, a thread that is explored in great detail. If there is a drawback here, it is that readers do not get a strong sense of how his self-diagnosis impacted his life. But even among the growing number of books written by those diagnosed later in life, this entry is easily recommended for public and academic libraries with autism collections. [See Prepub Alert, LJ5/15/07.]
“An entertaining, provocative and highly-readable story by a great storyteller...you will rethink your own definition of normal, and it may spark a new appreciation of the untapped potential behind every quirky, awkward person who doesn’t quite fit in.”
—New York Times blog
“Deeply felt and often darkly funny, Look Me in the Eye is a delight.”
—People magazine (Critics Choice, 4 Stars)
“It's a fantastic life story (highlights include building guitars for KISS) told with grace, humor, and a bracing lack of sentimentality.”
“A highly entertaining, crazy ride...heartbreaking, inspiring and funny.”
“Lean, powerful in its descriptive accuracy and engaging in its understated humor...Emotionally gripping.”
“Robison’s lack of finesse with language is not only forgivable, but an asset to his story . . . His rigid sentences are arguably more telling of his condition than if he had created the most graceful prose this side of Proust.”
“Look Me in the Eye is a fantastic read that takes readers into the mind of an Aspergian both through its plot and through the calm, logical style in which Robison writes. . . Even if you have no personal connections with Asperger’ s, you’ll find that Robison—like his brother, Burroughs—has a life worth reading about.”
“Not only does Robison share with his famous brother, Augusten Burroughs (Running With Scissors), a talent for writing; he also has that same deadpan, biting humor that's so irresistible.”
“Dramatic and revealing...There's an endearing quality to Robison and his story that transcends the "Scissors" connection … Look Me in the Eye is often drolly funny and seldom angry or self-pitying. Even when describing his fear that he'd grow up to be a sociopathic killer, Robison brings a light touch to what could be construed as dark subject matter…Robison is also a natural storyteller and engaging conversationalist.”
—The Boston Globe
“This is no misery memoir…[Robison] is a gifted storyteller with a deadpan sense of humour and the book is a rollicking read.”
“Look Me in the Eye should be required reading for teachers and human services professionals, concerned parents and anyone who likes a well-crafted story of a life zestfully lived to the beat of wildly different drums.”
“Robison's memoir is must reading for its unblinking (as only an Aspergian can) glimpse into the life of a person who had to wait decades for the medical community to catch up with him.”
“Well-written and fascinating.” —Library Journal
“Thoughtful and thoroughly memorable…Moving…In the end, Robison succeeds in his goal of “helping those who are struggling to grow up or live with Asperger’s” to see how it “is not a disease” but “a way of being” that needs no cure except understanding and encouragement from others.”
“Affecting, on occasion surprisingly comic memoir about growing up with Asperger’s syndrome….The view from inside this little-understood disorder offers both cold comfort and real hope, which makes it an exceptionally useful contribution to the literature.”
“Of course this book is brilliant; my big brother wrote it. But even if it hadn’t been created by my big, lumbering, swearing, unshaven ‘early man’ sibling, this is as sweet and funny and sad and true and heartfelt a memoir as one could find, utterly unspoiled, uninfluenced, and original.”
—from the foreword by Augusten Burroughs, author of Running with Scissors
“Look Me In The Eye is a wonderful surprise on so many levels: it is compassionate, funny, and deeply insightful. By the end, I realized my vision of the world had undergone a slight but permanent alteration; I had taken for granted that our behavioral conventions were meaningful, when in fact they are arbitrary. That he is able to illuminate something so simple (but hidden, and unalterable) proves that John Elder Robison is at least as good a writer as he is an engineer, if not better.”
—Haven Kimmel (who was in attendance at the 1978 KISS tour*), author of A Girl Named Zippy
“I hugely enjoyed reading Look Me in the Eye. This book is a wild rollercoaster ride through John Robison’s life--from troubled teenage prankster to successful employment in electronics, music, and classic cars. A kindly professor introduced him to electrical engineering, which led to jobs where he found techie soulmates that were like him. A fascinating glimpse into the mind of an engineer which should be on the reading list of anyone who is interested in the human mind.”
—Temple Grandin, author of Thinking in Pictures and Animals in Translation
“John Robison's book is an immensely affecting account of a life lived according to his gifts rather than his limitations. His story provides ample evidence for my belief that individuals on the autistic spectrum are just as capable of rich and productive lives as anyone else.”
—Daniel Tammet, author of Born on a Blue Day: Inside the Extraordinary Mind of an Autistic Savant
- Crown Publishing Group
- Publication date:
- Age Range:
- 14 - 18 Years
Read an Excerpt
Look Me in the EyeMy Life with Asperger's
By John Elder Robison
Three Rivers PressCopyright © 2008 John Elder Robison
All right reserved.
A Little Misfit
It was inconceivable to me that there could be more than one way to play in the dirt, but there it was. Doug couldn't get it right. And that's why I whacked him. Bang! On both ears, just like I saw on The Three Stooges. Being three years old was no excuse for disorderly play habits.
For example, I would use my mother's kitchen spoon to scoop out a ditch. Then, I would carefully lay out a line of blue blocks. I never mixed my food, and I never mixed my blocks. Blue blocks went with blue blocks, and red blocks with red ones. But Doug would lean over and put a red block on top of the blue ones.
Couldn't he see how wrong that was?
After I had whacked him, I sat back down and played. Correctly.
Sometimes, when I got frustrated with Doug, my mother would walk over and yell at me. I don't think she ever saw the terrible things he did. She just saw me whack him. I could usually ignore her, but if my father was there, too, he would get really mad and shake me, and then I would cry.
Most of the time, I liked Doug. He was my first friend. But some of the things he did were just too much for me to handle. I would park my truck by a log, and he would kick dirt on it. Our moms would giveus blocks, and he would heap his in a sloppy pile and then giggle about it. It drove me wild.
Our playdates came to an abrupt end the following spring. Doug's father graduated from medical school and they moved far, far away to an Indian reservation in Billings, Montana. I didn't really understand that he could leave despite my wishes to the contrary. Even if he didn't know how to play correctly, he was my only regular playmate. I was sad.
I asked my mother about him each time we went to the park, where I now played alone. "I'm sure he'll send you a postcard," my mother said, but she had a funny look on her face, and I didn't know what to make of it. It was troubling.
I did hear the mothers whispering, but I never knew what they meant.
". . . drowned in an irrigation ditch . . ."
". . . the water was only six inches deep . . ."
". . . must have fallen on his face . . ."
". . . his mother couldn't see him, so she went outside and found him there . . ."
What is an irrigation ditch? I wondered. All I could figure out was, they weren't talking about me. I had no idea Doug was dead until years later.
Looking back, maybe my friendship with Doug wasn't the best omen. But at least I stopped whacking other kids. Somehow I figured out that whacking does not foster lasting friendship.
That fall, my mother enrolled me at Philadelphia's Mulberry Tree Nursery School. It was a small building with kids' drawings on the walls and a dusty playground enclosed with a chain-link fence. It was the first place where I was thrown together with children I didn't know. It didn't go well.
At first, I was excited. As soon as I saw the other kids, I wanted to meet them. I wanted them to like me. But they didn't. I could not figure out why. What was wrong with me? I particularly wanted to make friends with a little girl named Chuckie. She seemed to like trucks and trains, just like me. I knew we must have a lot in common.
At recess, I walked over to Chuckie and patted her on the head. My mother had shown me how to pet my poodle on the head to make friends with him. And my mother petted me sometimes, too, especially when I couldn't sleep. So as far as I could tell, petting worked. All the dogs my mother told me to pet had wagged their tails. They liked it. I figured Chuckie would like it, too.
Smack! She hit me!
Startled, I ran away. That didn't work, I said to myself. Maybe I have to pet her a little longer to make friends. I can pet her with a stick so she can't smack me. But the teacher intervened.
"John, leave Chuckie alone. We don't hit people with sticks."
"I wasn't hitting her. I was trying to pet her."
"People aren't dogs. You don't pet them. And you don't use sticks."
Chuckie eyed me warily. She stayed away for the rest of the day. But I didn't give up. Maybe she likes me and doesn't know it, I thought. My mother often told me I would like things I thought I wouldn't, and sometimes she was right.
The next day, I saw Chuckie playing in the big sandbox with a wooden truck. I knew a lot about trucks. And I knew she wasn't playing with her truck correctly. I would show her the right way. She will admire me and we will be friends, I thought. I walked over to her and took the truck away and sat down.
"Miss Laird! John took my truck!"
That was fast!
"I did not! I was showing her how to play with it! She was doing it wrong!" But Miss Laird believed Chuckie, not me. She led me away and gave me a truck of my own. Chuckie didn't follow. But tomorrow was another day. Tomorrow, I would succeed in making friends.
When tomorrow came, I had a new plan. I would talk to Chuckie. I would tell her about dinosaurs. I knew a lot about dinosaurs, because my father took me to the museum and showed me. Sometimes I had scary dreams about them, but overall, dinosaurs were the most interesting thing I knew of.
I walked over to Chuckie and sat down.
"I like dinosaurs. My favorite is the brontosaurus. He's really big."
Chuckie did not respond.
"He's really big but he just eats plants. He eats grass and trees.
"He has a long neck and a long tail."
"He's as big as a bus.
"But an allosaurus can eat him."
Chuckie still didn't say anything. She looked intently at the ground, where she was drawing in the sand.
"I went to see the dinosaurs at the museum with my dad.
"There were little dinosaurs, too.
"I really like dinosaurs. They're neat!"
Chuckie got up and went inside. She had completely ignored me!
I looked down at the ground where she had been staring. What was she looking at that was so interesting? There was nothing there.
All my attempts to make friends had failed. I was a failure. I began to cry. Alone in the corner of the playground, I sobbed and smashed the toy truck into the ground again and again and again, until my hands hurt too much to do it anymore.
At the end of recess, I was still there, sitting by myself. Staring into the dirt. Too humiliated to face the other kids. Why don't they like me? What's wrong with me? That was where Miss Laird found me.
"It's time to go back inside." She grabbed my little paw and towed me in. I wanted to roll up in a ball and disappear.
Recently, one of my friends read the passage above and said, "Shit, John, you're still that way now." He's right. I am. The only real difference is that I have learned what people expect in common social situations. So I can act more normal and there's less chance I'll offend anyone. But the difference is still there, and it always will be.
People with Asperger's or autism often lack the feelings of empathy that naturally guide most people in their interactions with others. That's why it never occurred to me that Chuckie might not respond to petting in the same way a dog would. The difference between a small person and a medium-sized dog was not really clear to me. And it never occurred to me that there might be more than one way to play with a toy truck, so I could not understand why she objected to my showing her.
The worst of it was, my teachers and most other people saw my behavior as bad when I was actually trying to be kind. My good intentions made the rejection by Chuckie all the more painful. I'd watched my parents talk to other grown-ups and I figured I could talk to Chuckie. But I had overlooked one key thing: Successful conversations require a give and take between both people. Being Aspergian, I missed that. Totally.
I never interacted with Chuckie again.
I stopped trying with any of the kids. The more I was rejected, the more I hurt inside and the more I retreated.
I had better luck dealing with grown-ups. My disjointed replies didn't bring the conversation to an abrupt halt. And I tended to listen to them more than I listened to kids, because I assumed they knew more. Grown-ups did grown-up things. They didn't play with toys, so I didn't have to show them how to play. If I tried to pet a grown-up with a stick, he'd take it away. He wouldn't humiliate me by yelling and running to the teacher. Grown-ups explained things to me, so I learned from them. Kids weren't so good at that.
Most of the time, I played by myself, with my toys. I liked the more complex toys, especially blocks and Lincoln Logs. I still remember the taste of Lincoln Logs. When I wasn't chewing them, I made forts and houses and fences. When I got a little bigger, I got an Erector Set. I was very proud of that. I built my first machines with the Erector Set.
Machines were never mean to me. They challenged me when I tried to figure them out. They never tricked me, and they never hurt my feelings. I was in charge of the machines. I liked that. I felt safe around them. I also felt safe around animals, most of the time. I petted other people's dogs when we went to the park. When I got my poodle, I made friends with him, too.
"Look what your grandpa Jack sent you, John Elder!" (My parents named me John Elder Robison to honor my great-grandpa John Glenn Elder, who died before I was born.) My dad had brought home a wooly, ill-tempered, and probably genetically defective dog, most likely a reject from some dog pound. But I didn't know that. I was fascinated. He growled at me and wet the floor when my father put him down.
I wasn't scared of him, because he was considerably smaller than me. I had not yet learned that sharp teeth can come in small packages.
"Poodles are very smart dogs," my father told me.
Maybe he was smart, but he wasn't very friendly. I named him Poodle, beginning a long tradition of functional pet naming. I didn't really know what to do with a dog, and I was always squeezing him and grabbing his tail and yanking in an effort to figure that out. He bit me whenever I yanked too hard. Sometimes he bit hard enough to make my arms bleed, and I would cry. Years later, I told that story to my mother, who said, "John Elder, Poodle never bit you hard enough to make your arms bleed! If he had, that would have been the end of Poodle in our house." All I could say to that was "Little bites are a big deal to little people." And that's how I remember it.
Once, I locked him in my room and he got out. He chewed a dog-sized hole in the bedroom door. We found him lying in the sun in the backyard.
Seeing that, I tried chewing the door myself. My teeth barely made a dent in the paint. I didn't even manage to bite a splinter out of the wood. I realized that Poodle had very sharp teeth. I learned to put my toys away before I went to bed every night. If I forgot, Poodle would come in during the night and eat them.
My parents didn't like Poodle because he ate their furniture. Despite that, Poodle and I slowly became friends. I was always a little wary of him, though, because I never knew what he'd do.
Our home wasn't very happy. The dog ate my toys and snapped, and my parents always fought. One night, I awoke to them yelling at each other in the next room. They often fought at night when they thought I was asleep. It was always stressful and unsettling to me, but this time was different. My mother was crying in addition to yelling. She didn't usually cry.
"Momma!" I yelled loud to make sure she heard me.
"It's okay, John Elder, go to sleep." She came in and patted me on the head, but she went right back out.
I didn't like that at all. Usually, she sat with me, and petted me, and sang to me till I fell asleep. Where did she go? What's going on?
The loud fights were disturbing because I was sure they were fighting about me, and I knew if they got tired of me they could just leave me somewhere to fend for myself. I thought, I have to be really good, so they won't get rid of me.
So I tried to be very quiet and act asleep. I figured that's what they expected.
"He'll go back to sleep," my mother said, quietly. Hearing that, I was wide awake, and even more scared.
"No, he won't," my father cried. "He'll remember this night when he's forty." And then he started sobbing, too. Anything that made both of them cry must be very, very bad.
"Daddy! Don't make Momma cry!" I could not help myself. I wanted to hide under the bed but I knew they'd find me. I was terrified.
My mother came back in and sang softly to me, but she sounded funny. After a few minutes, though, I fell into a troubled sleep.
Much later, I learned that my father had been having an affair with a secretary from the German department at the university where he was studying. My mother told me she looked just like her. I guess the affair unraveled that night, and my parents' marriage unraveled some more, too. That was when my father started to turn mean.
When I woke up the next morning, he was still in bed. He wasn't at school. "Your father is tired," my mother said. "He's resting." I walked over to him. He smelled normal, and he was snoring. I left him alone and my mother walked me to school like she always did.
From the Hardcover edition.
Excerpted from Look Me in the Eye by John Elder Robison Copyright © 2008 by John Elder Robison. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Meet the Author
JOHN ELDER ROBISON is the New York Times bestselling author of Look Me in the Eye, Be Different and Raising Cubby. He lectures widely on autism and neurological differences, and is a member of the Interagency Autism Coordinating Committee of the US Dept. of Health and Human Services. John also serves on committees and review boards for the CDC and the National Institutes of Health. A machinery enthusiast and avid photographer, John lives in Amherst, Massachusetts with his family, animals, and machines.
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I liked this book! I also read the authors brothers book....'Running with Scissors'....I suggest reading both!
I like this book. People who do not have such disorders cannot understand how it feels. I think Mr. Robinson did a great job describing it while making the book funny, sad and entertaining all at the same time. I admire him for his courage.
I am reading this book to become a better parent. I have just two chapters left! The book has achieved it's purpose for me -- to gain perspective and empathy for my 10 year old son who has Aspergers. I am trying to see the world as he sees it, so that I can help him navigate through his childhood and toward a life as a well adjusted, happy, productive adult with meaningful friendships and social connections. If my son did not have Aspergers, I would most likely not have purchased this book. For me, this book is helpful. This is the first e-book that I've purchased, and I am dismayed that there are no folios, and I cannot easily tell how long the book is and how far I have progressed. I had to scroll to the end of the book to figure out that I only have 2 chapters left!
Revealing account of what an Aspie goes through and thinks! Very helpful for anyone that has someone dear to them with Aspberger's. Would recommend highly, you may just find some of your own traits revealed!
Incredible book. Helped me me understand my niece. Very thought provoking. An amazing way to view the world -- the same world I live in, but from so differently.
Great book, and as a person with this disorder/condition it was nice to finally read a book that made me understand myself and the disorder a lot better
There are so many books on the subject of Aspergers but not many written from someone who actually has it, which is what I LOVED about this. I can read the manuals and guides, but they never discuss why my son, who's on the spectrum, does some of the things he does. I found myself relating to so much of what John Elder discusses in his book and saying, 'Wow, my son does that, too.' and realizing that so much of what my child does is because of his ASD and not because he is trying to be difficult. I am thankful for the author's decision (and his brother's)to share his story with us. He has led a remarkable life and I hope he continues to share his numerous gifts with the rest of us!!!
John Elder Robison writes one of the most enlightening memoirs the psychological community has seen in many a day. I have Asperger's myself, and when I first read this, I saw many parallels between myself and John Elder, including a substantial obstacle in interpersonal intetactions, a very pronounced inability to read and react to common social cues (e.g. eye contact, facial expressions, etc.) The key difference between the book and my own story is that I was raised with the proper diagnosis. Bearing that in mind, every school I ever attended did whatever it took to get me in contact with the world around me. I've come a long way since the day I discovered Iwas different from my peers. Nowadays, I have quite a few friends, and since we started college, we've stuck with each other through thick and thin, easy times and rough ones, and always been there for each other. Over time, I came to accept that I was different, and different is cool. John Elder, if you're reading this, I just want to thank you. Reading your memoir has really helped me get where I am today, and I've gotten to know myself way better. Plus, I like to read the funny, suspenseful, and entertaining stories interspersed throughout the book. Those made it difficult to put the book down! Keep up the good work!
The more I read of his life as an Aspergian the more often I think I find parts of him in myself. Imagine growing up with a different way of looking at life and not being able to explain yourself to others. His type of person wasn't even given a category in the DSM until he was out of school. His triumphal overcoming of the many disadvantages that he had are described, many of them not related to Asperger's. I don't want to say "his disease" because being different isn't always a disease. Early childhood can be terrible for those that don't react as the majority do nor understand what they are doing as well as why. Children learn how to react towards others from observing and copying others and maybe our society wants everyone to react the same way? How boring that would be. We all would be redundant, wouldn't we? At the same time, when someone asks you, "How are you?" they usually don't want to know but for an Aspergian, that isn't understood. So, they tell you and you politely run away and shun them. His unusual skills and intelligence helped him to survive but compassion and understanding from others finally helped him enjoy being alive. Read his life journey and marvel at his success.
So insightful...the characters are well-developed and intriguing. You leave this book with a deep respect for the author and his journey of self-awareness but also a desire to learn more about Asperger's. Very well written; I highly recommend!
What an entertaining book! Though I don't know anyone with Aspergers, I do know a child who is austic. How wonderful to learn about this condition from someone who has it. Mr. Robinson's story is so interesting, he's living an amazing life. Thank you for taking us with you as you toured with KISS, to GA to your grandparents farm, on the many trips with Cubby, for introducing us to your parents and brother and for educating us about Aspergers. I'll read "Running with Scissors", next. This book is for anyone who enjoys a good, interesting read.
My step-daughter has Asbergers and I found this book not only highly entertaining but helpful in understanding how her mind works. I was happyto see that people with Asbergers can learn to overcome this disability and live a happy, successful life.
As the parent of a 10 year old with Asperger Syndrome, I found great comfort in Robison's book. I felt myself celebrating all of my child's differences and the book helped me see things in a different light. I enjoyed Robison's storytelling, I laughed out loud at many of his antics, and learned a lot about the way my child's mind works. It was an easy read, both entertaining and educational. I was amazed at the similarities between the author and my own child. I highly recommend this book for anyone, and especially those who know someone with Asperger Syndrome.
I have just finished this book and I cant wait to read "Running with scissors." I enjoyed this book and it really took you in to the way a person with Autism acts. At some points the things that were going on in the book made me go " whats going on" but then I had to stop and remined who wrote the book. The book is deffinatly a book you want to read about, learn or try and understand alittle more about Aspergers Syndrome.
Superbly written and fascinating story of a heartbreaking situation. It's not often that people with this disorder are able to express themselves so meaningfully. A book that was very difficult to put down!
This book is comprised of multiple short narratives from the life of John Elder Robison, who grew up completely unaware that he had Asperger Syndrome. It was not until he was 40 years old and was diagnosed with Aspergers that he finally understood why he was so different from his peers growing up, and why he was always told that he would amount to nothing. This book shows his difficulties growing up with not only his syndrome, but with his mentally ill mother and alcoholic father. From reading this book not only was I provided entertaining stories of Robison’s as a cunning prankster and scared son, but I also learned a great deal about Aspergers that I did not know before. This book helped me learn more about this very common form of autism, resulting in a greater respect for Aspergians; I think is very important in our society where we tell kids with disabilities, such as John Elder himself, that there is nothing in this world for them. The novel was not set up in chronological order which I believe would have made it more effective; however I enjoyed the anecdotal style of writing that Robison utilized. I would recommend this book to anyone and everyone. I strongly believe that anyone would benefit from this read. The topic of disabilities is a very important one that does not get nearly enough attention and results in kids feeling like they are not good enough and that their Aspergers is a burden.
I bought this book thinking I could learn more about AS (Asperger's Syndrome) and how to control or manage the problems and social awkwardness associated with it. But this book is not for such information. It was interesting, I think highly of anyone who can rise above such problems to become a success. I was diagnosed with AS late in life, now I understand why I did such odd things at times, the anxiety, OCD, the storytelling, all the rest, so what I need now are more guidelines to help make sense out of the rest of my life. I have two more clinical type books written by AS authors but haven't found the perfect book yet. I am always interested in biographies and autobiographies but in this case the book did not do anything for me. If you are like me and need the things that I need then you can pass on this. Good for what it is, disappointing for what it is not.
Touching, funny and heartbreaking account of dysfunctional home life plus living with undiagnosed Asbergers. Very well written and inspiring. I would recommend it especially to teens and young adults or anyone who knows someone with this neurologic problem.
Good to know the feelings of someone with Aspergers, but too much detail which makes it a little boring.
A fascinating look behind Asperger's and how those who deal with it are affected. I'm certain that many people, like myself, discovered the cause of many of our personal problems dealing with others who do not understand that we are just 'different' at the way we look at life and others in general. It was an eye opener and I love John Elder Robison for sharing his personal story with us. God bless him.
Should I get the book? #confused P.S: I'm no genoug but this book is about Aspergers not Autizam.