We, autistic people, usually have an allergic reaction to "autism moms/dads" and their testaments. So I was really surprised when I saw a quote that hit close to home about autism and figured out it came from what seemed a memoir of a father of an infant, then toddler autistic kid. I gave this book a try, and was plenty surprised, in both positive and negative ways. I want to share some of my reflections and hope that someone finds those thoughts of an autistic adult helpful.
First positive surprise - Paul and Jennifer (the parents) don't act like the typical "autism parents" I mentioned in the first paragraph. Since the beginning of the story (early infancy) to the end (where Morgan, the son, is in some school/preschool(?) program so I guess he is several years old then) their love and acceptance of the son "as he is" is clear. They explicitly value Morgan's happiness (and he is happy in the home they provide) over "good behavior or "proper development" or "fitting in". Near the end Paul admits that initially he had a thought if it could be "cured" but no longer, and when he is sad and afraid, it's because he is afraid of someone hurting his son. In Morgan's infancy, the family is always in wonder of his developments, as many new parents probably are, and when people act like the kid "is wrong", they defend him. Still, people's reactions lead to diagnosis and family getting help, and it seems that help is centered on (augumented/alternative) communication, not on learning "proper" behavior - big plus, they saved the son so much trauma that behaviorism and mainstreaming inflicts on autistic people (me included). And parents are willing to actually learn a lot about various facets of autism spectrum.
Also I loved how Paul, upon learning more about autistic traits and the genetic origin, reflects on his own behaviors, memories and family history, and figures out that he may be on the spectrum, even if he is more verbal and better masking than his son (this feels personal for me, a late-diagnosed adult, child of a clearly autistic father and grandfather, all of us masking and verbal). This is something many parents can't bring themself to reflect upon.
In general, the open-minded approach of an author was a very big plus. The story of his family and learning about autism because of his son is interwoven with his research as a historian - centered on "odd" and "quirky" historical figures that displayed traits now considered autistic (I have a feeling this may be a bit of a special interest, and an unconscious pull towards fellow neurodiverse people that so many of us have). Those figures are not very famous, so they form a fascinating collection of "new" stories for many readers. They also form an alternative historical narrative about autism - that we have always been there. We are not a recent "epidemic", we were just known under different (often derogatory) names as a part of societies everywhere. Just like queer studies scholars and historians form narratives of our queer ancestors who lived before the modern lexicon was invented, so does this historian form a narrative of "autism history".
Now, for my biggest concern - obviously the state of knowledge on autism changed a lot between 2004 (when the book was published) and 2021. Still, as an autistic person, I can't condone platforming dr Simon Baron-Cohen and him being presented as the most prominent "autism expert" in the book. Granted, parent's and writer's impulse to learn as much as possible on autism from the most reputable scientists is praise-worthy. However, as of 2021, SBC's theories (that autistics have "extreme male brain", lack "theory of mind" and empathy, and are systems-obsessed and therefore "useful", and in general the stereotype of cold, robotic and uncaring) have been disproven many times, both by scientists and autistics own testaments (the way "refrigerator mother" theory, still lingering in mainstream, is presented only to be debunked in the book). In 2004, they have been made a part of this book, and in 2021 they still linger both in public and medical sphere - I got a formal diagnosis, based, among others, on SBC's tests and questionnaires that focus only on few areas of the spectrum he researched and are heavily influenced by his "lack of theory of mind" hypothesis. In many ways I am that "stereotypical highly functioning autistic" who will pass those tests - very STEM-oriented "gifted kid", always bad with peers and making friends, awkwardly behaving and moving, appearing cold and robotic, avoiding eye contact and missing many jokes, but I am also extremely empathetic (to the point that plight of others can cause my meltdown), queer and nonbinary AFAB person who is extremely verbal (hyperlexic) and definitely does not lack theory of mind nor self awareness. Side note, I suppose being a "girl" born in Eastern Europe (probably a few years before Morgan) may be the biggest reason for my late (adult) diagnosis even though so many stereotypes were there. By the way, Paul acknowledges many privileges of his family - the parents are white Americans who mostly WFH (so they can spend a lot of time with son) and have access to free state disability programs (that don't exist or aren't good in many places). Access that, as Paul notices in this book, is hard for many immigrants because of language bareer.
To sum up, luckily this book was not a run-off-the-mill-autistic-parent-book. The overarching message of acceptance, importance of personal happiness and questioning "normalcy" is nothing-less-than praiseworthy and needs repeating in mainstream. Representation of augmented communication and help service that is not ABA (there are many testimonies on why ABA is bad on the internet, not in this book though) and positive portrayal of a frequently non-verbal autistic child (of a very verbal parent on the spectrum) also count as pros. Still, I can't recommend this book without a BIG caveat regarding some theories (and SBC) presented. For us autistics it may be tiresome or a trigger, for allistics it definitely cannot be a sole source of information, rather a jumping-off point with a reminder to question the scientific (often allistic and ableist) world frequently and listen to the autistic people about our lived experiences.