Because of my younger brother I’ve got an interest in Autism, particularly Aspergers Syndrome, and have a tendency to read a lot about people with the condition.  It’s quite something to read a well written book by an ‘Aspergian’ themselves, so this was a delightful surprise.  It is coherent, beautiful explaining why Robinson wouldn’t look people in the eye (he didn’t see the point) and of how he could work so well with electronics, ultimately finding a short career making special effect guitars for KISS (yes, *that* KISS).  Though my brother cannot articulate himself anywhere near as well when it comes to his quirks, I found myself thinking back on things he had done and said after reading this book and suddenly thinking ‘oh, that explains it’.

Robinson is the older brother of the gem Augusten Burroughs, so I had already been introduced to him as a character through his brother’s books and short stories.  Reading through two accomplished writers presented an intriguing cross section, a meeting of perspectives on the same events.  Their clinically psychotic father, whom Burroughs has only recently written about in depth, is a sore point for them both, though there is a kind of insulated indifference for Robinson.  No, that’s not quite the right word.  It’s more like oil on a laminated penguin as opposed to one without a plastic shield: it still gets covered in the stuff and is still bothered by it, but it’s a different perception of the problem.  It doesn’t seep through and under the skin.

I tore through this book (dry eyed, for the most part, which is good for me on this topic) and immediately passed it onto my mum.  It’s a tradition to exchange these good ‘Autism books’ when we find them, and already she is singing highly of its praises.

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