One of the most misunderstood Things That Exist in mainstream discourse right now is autism. There is so much oversimplified, misleading, or just plain wrong information floating around, that it is nearly impossible for any neurotypical person to have a clear understanding of what autism even is, let alone what autistic people need from society and caregivers. As an example, for the longest time I thought the definition of autism was the inability to empathise with others, which is just embarrassingly incorrect.
If you're anything like me, then your "understanding" of autism came from popular novels like The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime and The London Eye Mystery, which a) are all written by neurotypical people, b) almost exclusively feature children with Asperger's syndrome, the latter being a very narrow and high-functioning section of the autistic spectrum, and c) often give very garbled and incomplete explanations of what autism, or even Asperger's, actually is. Also not helping are TV shows like Sherlock, in which a character is featured who displays some symptoms which resemble autism, only to be described as a "high-functioning sociopath" (which is inaccurate and cringy for about thirty-six reasons, including the fact that sociopathy doesn't even feature different levels of functionality).
So one of the remedies to this widespread misinformation is The Reason I Jump. If you haven't heard of it, Jump is a semi-autobiographical book by then-thirteen-year-old Naoki Higashida, who is autistic. The bulk of the book is a kind of FAQ, which Naoki giving roughly two-page answers to questions he gets a lot or which he suspects you might have. Intersected here and there are Naoki's short stories, all of which are touching and clever and just very very good.
The English translation also features an introduction by David Mitchell (the author, not the guy from Peep Show), which itself is really helpful. He opens with a description of what it would be like if you suddenly developed autism, which is pretty much the best explanation of autism I've ever encountered. It goes pretty much like this:
- One day, you lose the ability to communicate. You can no longer explain to anyone if you're bored or happy or in pain, or what you had for breakfast, or how sorry you are that their dog died.
- Then, soon after, the filter in your head which organises your thoughts vanishes. "A dam-burst of ideas, memories, impulses and thoughts is cascading over you, unstoppably. Your mind is a room where twenty radios, all tuned to different stations, are blaring out voices and music."
- Now the filter which organised your senses has also vanished. Every visible, audible and otherwise sensible thing is drawing your attention equally. "Colours and patterns swim and clamour for your attention. The fabric softener in your sweater smells as strong as air-freshener jammed up your nostrils."
And, voila. You are now experiencing what autistic people experience, every minute of every day, for the entirety of their lives.
Throughout the rest of the book, Naoki's incredibly engaging voice patiently filters through so many of the misconceptions we have about autism. Some answers might seem incomplete, but they are incomplete in more or less the same way that you can never give a complete answer to the question "why do you like video games?". The frank, open way he writes makes it impossible not to empathise with him, and with every chapter you develop a clearer idea of what being autistic is like.
What both Mitchell's introduction and Naoki's explanations and stories force you to do is admire autistic people, the way you admire everyone else who prevails in the face of a kind of adversity you will never experience. Conventional autism narratives call upon you to shed a tear for the parents and the caregivers, the poor souls who have to try to get through to autistic people, and that's not entirely unjustified. But we often fail to recognise that living with autism is much, much harder than caring for someone who does. The difficulties faced by autistic people should be met with sympathy and patience, and the achievements of autistic people demand raucous celebration.
So should you read this book? Yes. Why? Because the way autistic people are treated in society matters, and is an issue which demands your attention. But more generally, paying attention to narratives different from your own is a fundamental part of being a person, and, I would argue, the only way to live a life which does more good than harm.
Also, it's just a darn good read. (I finished it in about an hour on the train.)
