In a previous book review I detailed why it may be that a person would pick up a non-fiction book on a special interest subject. In this case you either have autism in the family or have some professional interest in the condition, eg. a Special Ed. Teacher, instructor/therapist, etc. - relative of the author notwithstanding. Being a father of a child with ASD - my special interest in choosing to read this book - the kind of information I am looking for is very specifically the condition, how it is handled, and perhaps how it affects other family members. I personally also get some comfort and strength, perhaps coping strategies, from the familiarity with others' experience. In reading this book, however, I found myself trying to skip past and/or highlight the infuriating metaphors, cliches and flowery depictions, and the dramatics of familial relationships, personal problems and national events, to get to the more relevant information and focus on behaviour, diagnosis, therapies, progressions/regressions, IEPs and schooling, etc., and these details were sparse, at best. Whilst I understand the necessity of putting the relevant information into context I got the impression the author was really trying to weave a story, and it was distracting, not to mention, cringeworthy, and I say that knowing how it feels to experience and recount such things.
The author's commitment to her son's diagnosis and therapy mirrors my own -indeed the recognition and enthusiasm felt is a positive from the book - and the impetus to write this book I can understand, but if the intention is to impart experience, knowledge and advice to those living with similar conditions, then that's where the focus needs to be, and not, with respect, on your spouse's many personal problems or the colour of the raindrops on your car window screen.