Karl scopre presto che suo fratello non è come gli altri. All’età di due anni, invece di progredire, Noah inizia a perdere anche le poche abilità fino ad allora acquisite. Smette di gattonare. Dimentica le poche parole apprese. Si chiude in un mondo parallelo, unico abitante di un pianeta lontano, rifuggendo dal contatto con le altre persone. Quando giunge la diagnosi di autismo la famiglia è già tutta concentrata su questo figlio “diverso”.Passando attraverso le fasi della vita di Karl e Noah, molte cose mutano: il rapporto fra i due bambini, l’atteggiamento di Karl nei confronti delle sue incombenze di fratello, i suoi sentimenti ambivalenti verso Noah – a volte violento, a volte incredibilmente dolce – e i genitori. Un racconto emozionante, onirico, lucidamente onesto, di grande empatia. La storia sorprendente, e sorprendentemente ricca di colpi di scena, di due solitudini. E di una famiglia.
I'm the author of six books, including the recent novel Triburbia, the story collection NowTrends, the memoir Boy Alone and the Japanese youth culture collection Speed Tribes
I would not recommend this book at all, honestly. I understand that being part of the support network for someone with the challenging behaviors of his brother must have been really difficult, but his language towards his brother is really, really disrespectful. He uses the R word, idiot, and crazy multiple times while talking about his brother and other autistic kids. He also assumes, for example, that being nonverbal means his brother probably doesn't have thoughts or memories, instead of that he just can't express his thoughts/feelings. Being autistic doesn't mean his brother is less worthy of respect. He also has at least one prejudiced description of a Black woman.
I learned a bit about the societal challenges in terms of the lack of facilities and research for people in his brother's condition, and the sad reality that his brother is easily victimized because he's non-verbal. (Though he still manages to blame his brother for his own vicitimization, saying he wouldn't have been abandoned if he hadn't abandoned society first.)
[SPOILERS BELOW] . . . . . . The author also has an extended part where he basically imagines what his brother's life *could* have been like if he were only verbal. Going back to reality after that is very grim. It also makes it even more unconscionable that he ends the whole book by saying he basically has to ignore his institutionalized, raped, hurt brother to be happy. He says he somehow can't fully turn his back, but he seems to resent that fact.
Greenfeld has written a powerful, maddening book, pitting sentences that are a joy to read against a raw honesty that is almost impossible to accept. It is a work of philosophy as endurance contest. The story of his profoundly autistic younger brother, Noah, is a descent by degrees, the deterioration of a child who begins with all the ordinary promise of his big brother but then slides irrevocably to become a mute and sometimes violent and possibly insane adult.
In the burgeoning field of works on autism, this book is like a hatchet thrown at the canon door. The idea that the best parents cannot save a child is rejected with a kind of violence by the prevailing talk-show culture, but that is exactly what happens here. Noah walks into a relentlessly upbeat field of miracle cures and made-for-TV empowerment and overly moralistic breakthroughs with a terrifying defiance. Most of the growing number of books on this subject are written by celebrated doctors and celebrities and shamen-dudes who address the uplifting and fascinating cases of high-functioning children who just need the right push to find a grip on reality and rise up to lead satisfying lives. As desperately as Karl seems to want this, growing up stoned and alienated in 1970s and ‘80s Pacific Palisades, it refuses to materialize.
Instead, Karl’s memoir addresses the ineffable, the humanity that inhabits a well-educated and successful family whose child does not get better. Karl’s father, screenwriter Josh Greenfield, who himself wrote three highly-regarded books on Noah, and his mother, Foumi, who wrote novels based on her experience, do everything that superhuman parents can do: they shatter the prevailing Freudian treatment models that imprison their child, pioneer operant conditioning, create diets and schools and routines for caregivers. They devote 20 years of their lives. And they admit that they fail.
With the same honesty and ear for storytelling that has made Karl’s other books and stories such great reads, he rips into one of the most un-American of subjects: helplessness. When the lottery doesn’t hit. When wanting yields nothing. And in the end, he deploys a literary device that is cruel and devastating, driving the point home with a hammer blow. He’s such a good writer that it really hurts – even now, weeks after finishing this book. And for that he’s to be admired. And forgiven.
Di solito i libri sugli autistici sono narrati dai loro genitori e raccontano di bambini che, crescendo, fanno qualche progresso o a volte escono miracolosamente dal loro guscio. Oppure le loro storie si fermano all'adolescenza, perché i ragazzini non sono ancora cresciuti e il loro futuro si può solo immaginare. Ma Noah ha più di quarant'anni adesso, e non ha mai parlato. È un autistico a basso funzionamento, e seguire la sua storia non dà speranza: mostra semplicemente le difficoltà, i drammi, l'amore e la pazienza che ci vogliono quando si ha un familiare come lui, soprattutto in un'epoca in cui le teorie sull'autismo erano ancora a uno stato embrionale. La sua storia è raccontata con estrema onestà dal fratello Karl, che a sua volta è stato un ragazzino difficile, ribelle, forse per reazione a quella famiglia così stramba (madre giapponese, padre ebreo, fratello autistico: difficile sembrare un ragazzino come tutti gli altri), o forse semplicemente perché per crescere aveva bisogno di trovare una propria identità: tutta la sua vita, e quella dei suoi genitori, è sempre ruotata intorno a Noah, ai suoi bisogni, alle sue sofferenze. Quando non ce l'hanno più fatta, hanno dovuto metterlo in istituto, pur con tanti sensi di colpa e la sensazione che il posto giusto per Noah, forse, non esiste.
Nota a parte: il titolo italiano mi è piaciuto moltissimo, rende proprio l'idea. Noah e Karl sono fratelli, ma ognuno è a suo modo figlio unico. Inoltre Noah, essendo diverso da tutti gli altri, è davvero un fratello unico.
Per chi volesse approfondire, queste sono due interviste alla famiglia di Noah, una girata quando aveva 12 anni, la seconda vent'anni dopo. Mi hanno commossa parecchio.
As a sibling of an autistic adult I'm grateful for the realism in this book. I see some reviews condemning the author for the language his teenage self uses about his brother but feel they miss the point that he's describing his feelings at the time. It is still a pretty devastating read but I do like to see the experiences of those of us who have walked this path in some way being reflected. The situation for adults who are learning disabled and living in supported homes or indeed in care is always precarious and often dangerous. Reading about that is uncomfortable- so is trying to support a grown child or a sibling who cannot stay at home any more , in a less than ideal situation. On a personal note this made me reflect on the experience of living with the unpredictability and violence of a sibling - it seems clear how it affected Karl despite his protestations that he doesn't blame everything on his life on his brother. There is a lot of humour in this book and I was gripped throughout. I also appreciated the potted history throughout the book of approaches to educating autistic children through the years.
I love this book. And I am picky about my books about autism. Most of them are not true enough for me. There are so many books about people who have an ASD on the higher end of things, who maybe are a little odd or a little quiet or take a little longer to reach some milestones, but then they make a break through and blah blah blah, happy ending. That doesn't work for me. I see this every day, and there is not always a happy ending. Of course, I want there to be. I work tirelessly every day to try and ensure a happy ending. I would give so much to promise a happy ending. But autism is a rough path with an uncertain future. And I wish more stories told that side of things.
Don't want to give too much away but this book gave me one of the biggest emotional responses of my life. I would recommend it for everyone--it gives an honest perspective of something that is tougher and way less glamorous than most modern media would like us to believe.
But as someone who has a family member with autism, I can’t wrap my head around ever dehumanizing them, nonetheless NEVER the way this author does. He holds so much resentment and jealousy towards his low-functioning autistic brother because his brother requires more attention from his parents and is the center of every decision his parents make. His brother is nonverbal and this author mentions multiple times how they are in competition with each other. COMPETITION. WITH HIS BROTHER. WHO IS NONVERBAL AND NEEDS HELP WITH HIS DAILY NEEDS.
And the plot twist in this memoir?? Disgusting. The author essentially admits that he has to ignore his brother in order to be happy; blissfully IGNORES that his brother has been raped, physically abused, etc.
This book is extremely dated as the author was born in the 60s, but damn. He shows no sort of empathy or grace towards his own blood and I am absolutely disgusted.
I asked my pals at HarperCollins for this book because I used to babysit (in college) for two brothers, and one was autistic while the other was not. Although I was a bit on-again/off-again with my interest level on this book, I mostly found it fascinating and heartbreaking...and guilt-inducing, since I quit babysitting the brothers when the autistic one started getting old enough (and big enough) to hurt me when he was frustrated. Boy Alone is also eye-opening, to say the least, with regards to the giant holes in care options for the severely autistic - and, in particular, autistic adults.
I reviewed this book on Amazon when it first came out. At that time, I gave it four stars because the writing was very good and the story was one that needed to be told. However, the author delivers a sucker punch to readers that I think would be particularly painful to families of children newly diagnosed with autism. These families are quite dear to my heart. I thought at the time that I'd eventually come to see his justifications for that literary trick, but three years later, I still don't buy them, and now it actually seems nearly sociopathic to me. Also, I'm now angry that he so cheaply botched what would otherwise have been a masterful memoir. What a shame.
Every parent or adult sibling of an autistic person should read this book. Anyone who enjoys brave, raw, honest memoirs should read this book. Greenfeld voices some of autism's dirty little secrets and, though he doesn't really have any answers, it's time someone asked these questions.
This book brings home the effect on the family of a child who is severely impaired. It's painful to see how Greenfield's family life was shaped by his severely autistic brother, Noah. It was rough on his parents; they didn't get to develop professionally or artistically in the ways they'd hoped to; they weren't able to travel; daily life was difficult, sometimes horrific; and, once Noah was older, they had to put him into abusive situations for their own safety.
They, at least, had grown up and started adult life without this kind of problem. Karl's childhood, and thus his entire view of life, was permeated with his brother's presence. He loved Noah - who could be quite lovable - but longed for a brother he could be friends with and a home he could bring his friends into. The whole situation was tragic. And, as he is well aware, similar situations have happened and are still happening in many thousands of homes, most of which don't have the financial and cultural advantages that his family did.
For getting that emotional toll across, and telling the story, I'd give this book four stars. The narrative seemed a bit repetitive and maybe too long, but otherwise well put together. My bigger problem was the literary device towards the end of the book that other reviewers have called a sucker punch to the reader.
This book is brutal and, at times, uncomfortably earnest. I feel like I need to be mopped up off the floor. It’s certainly not a casual read. If you have a low-functioning autistic family member or are interested in learning about the way the medical community treated LFA in the 60’s & 70’s (spoiler alert... it wasn’t good), I highly recommend this memoir.
This book contains mentions of physical abuse, sexual assault and also plenty of terms referring to the mentally disabled that some would consider offensive. These terms are sometimes used clinically and sometimes used colloquially. Most of this book takes place in the 60’s through the 80’s, so while they were hard to read at times, it was expected.
I’m not going to spoiler tag this next section because I believe that knowing this in advance will alleviate some of the heartbreak. About 30% of this book is a fantasy scenario where the author’s brother “gets better”. We see him become verbal, get a job, sustain a relationship. This is all fabricated. Maybe this is what Greenfeld wanted for his brother, and this was the only way to give it to him.
The last thing I will say is that Karl Taro Greenfeld is not a villain. Nor are his parents. They are people who did the best they could with what the universe gave them. At times, they come off as cruel, selfish and detached, but they were a family that was struggling, surviving. They whole heartedly loved someone who wasn’t always easy to love. In my opinion, the reviews of this book that disagree with that statement are virtue signaling. You won’t convince me otherwise.
I definitely like the way he writes. I think he can express the perspective from a child's point of view and also that of a brother easily. The transmission from that to the view of a grown up is also clearly noted.
His writing style is what I enjoyed through out the whole book. It is clear, precise, sharp-accurate to the point in conveying his thoughts, emotions and feelings which gives anyone a clear picture of what the author went through.
The emotions the author describes are raw, real and honest. He does not try to sugar-coat anything which is what I enjoyed. Even for his mistakes, he tells them as it is. He explains it so well. His thoughts which makes up for the bulk of the whole book is throughly conveyed to any reader who picks up this book.
For his fantastic writing style and skill which I like, 4 stars.
P.s. This isn't a book that one would pick up and finish in days. I took quite a number of months because I took the time to bask in such clarity of thought conveyed. I slowly absorbed it.
My mom gave me this book over a decade ago. Our eldest was still a baby and I didn't ever make time for it. I'm thinking my time as a parent, not just a sibling of a mentally handicapped person was probably a richer perspective though.
I was staggered as he chronicled this daily life with his nonverbal autistic brother. He shares the emotional and physical conflicts with him. He notes the ways he'd lash out with petty shoplifting, lying about homework incompletions, and general social struggles.
While his parents were famous-ish, this was set in the 60's-80's, and my sister had down's syndrome instead, the mirrored experiences I had to him still hit me like a gut punch.
He definitely went down a path that was more self destructive that I fully embarked upon. My heart ached for him and his family through their struggles that were much more extreme than those I experienced. Still, It was oddly comforting to know that the ease I perceived from other families may not have been a reality and the struggles I experienced were not a unique set of failures.
This started kind of slowly, but it sucked me in. By the time I got to the last part of it, I couldn't put it down. The author says that this book started out to be a general book about autism, and it shows. Occasionally the author lapses into long passages about autism, that don't seem to quite fit with the story of two brothers.
Honest, both in his telling of the story and in his dealing with the deeper questions of his life with his brother.
So, untimately, the theme of this book is: "Am I my brother's keeper?"
For some reason, I found the cover photo arresting. I was half-way through the book before I realized that the cover photo continued onto the back side of the book, and that the part of the photo showing on the cover was of the author, rather than his autistic brother.
And I was a ways into the book before I realized that the title referred to the author, as well as to his brother.
I randomly found this book on the library shelf and decided to read it because my son has an Asperger's diagnosis. Yes, Noah, the author's brother, has low-functioning autism, so I knew the book content would be different from my experience. However, the book taught me a lot about autism treatments in the 60s and 70s. People like Noah underwent extremely harsh treatment and abuse in the name of curing autism. Because of them, my son has access to quality care that really works. The book was also insightful into the way families operate when an autism diagnosis is involved.
Unfortunately, it was a slow read. I also felt betrayed toward the end when the author implemented creative writing to embellish the story. I would recommend this book, though, to anyone who's interested in autism, mental health, Japanese culture and the family dynamic in homes where someone has an autistic diagnosis.
From the first time I saw it, the book itself was intriguing. A brother writing a memoir about his autistic brother, it's an eye-catcher. Greenfeld writes in different perspectives throughout the book, the perspective of a child, a teenager, and later on an adult. The book revolves around the aspect of family connection and how having an autistic in the family may affect them in difficult ways. At the beginning, the story was a bit boring, the only action was the parents trying to find a cure. But later into the story, it was difficult to put down, I needed to know how the story ended. Would Noah become better or will he become worse? Greenfeld will give you an immense, emotional slap in the face, but it's worth it because it shows a different view at life. I would definitely recommend this if you enjoy plot twists.
I picked up this book after hearing Karl Greenfeld in an interview on NPR. I was fascinated by the idea because most memoirs of families with disabled members focus only on triumph over adversity and while hope of truimph is necessary, focusing only on the positive aspects negates some of the feelings that caregivers and families of the disabled have every day. Greenfeld is open and honest about his feelings growing up with Noah and the effects it had on his family. Without spoiling anything, I was totally dissapointed with the turn the book took just after the halfway point. It seemed like a cop-out to me. I understood what Greenfeld was trying to do, but it didn't work and made me lose faith in him as a narrator.
I had a hard time with this one, but am glad I read it. A group of nurses were reading it at a conference I attended, and I thought it sounded good. Overall, the subject matter of growing up with an autistic brother in the 60's and 70's was clearly addressed and I did empathize with his parents and the family as a whole. The review of child development and psychology was also interesting, but read very much like a text book. It easily could have been 100 pages shorter and still got the story and points across. I did not like the section that went from fact to fiction without telling the reader until afterwards. And, too many long trailing on portions that didn't fit well into the story. Those parts read more like a teenagers journal than a memoir.
I don't know that I can say I liked this book because of the subject matter, but it certainly gave a true picture of the autistic child/adult. My son has raised his girlfriend's autistic son, who I have grown to love. He will be 17 next week. I worry about him and what will become of him. His older "normal" brother has gone through much of the same kinds of things described here. It is sad that the developmentally challenged are mistreated, at worst, or ignored at best. We all need to love one another better in this life.
As a fellow sibling of a brother with profound autism and limited verbal communication capabilities, I found myself surprised at just how seen I felt in this book. His observation skills are strong and astute and this is unflinching. It’s a frequently brutal and unpleasant read about the difficulties of a lifelong relationship with a violent sibling who provides little positive reinforcement in return in a relationship (something that differs a bit from my own relationship) and the darkness and anger is jarring to encounter. But I’m very grateful for Greenfeld’s honesty, his portrayal of the social history of autism in the US alongside his brother’s treatment, and his earnest plea for more care and research to be devoted to adult autistics—it’s pretty devastating how little funding, enrichment, and care is provided to the developmentally delayed once they are above a minimum-schooling age and Greenfeld is rightfully upset at the way systems have continually failed his brother and his family throughout his life. There’s no way around it: it’s hard raising/caring for/being/being related to someone who requires such a constant amount of care. This book captures that painfully and openly.
About 50 years ago I read A Child Called Noah: A Family Journey. Recently my sister and I were talking about autism and she asked if I had read this book by Noah's brother which brings Noah's life into the 21st century. I borrowed a kindle version through my library.
It was not what I'd expected. I usually find I connect well with memoirs even when the person lives a very different life from mine. Not here. Karl bored me with elaborate description of the armies he pitted against each other as a child and his drug use as a teen. Then it skips to his stint in rehab as an adult and what turns out to be a dream sequence where Noah has mostly recovered, before a chapter on Noah's true situation in the early 2000's.
I think Karl Greenfield tried to mash together 2 or 3 different concepts. If I hadn't been curious to know what happened to Noah as an adult, I doubt if I would have finished the book.
I didn't get to finish this, but I would like to. This was well-written and a good sibling perspective - yet with details from the parent's journal to draw from. It is good to remember that practices we now find abhorrent were used not very long ago at all - and to think critically when considering current therapies for autistic children.
It is interesting to read about autism and how it was dealt with in the past, and how little doctors knew about it and how to deal with it. I struggled a little bit with how the author organized his writing, at times it took a little bit to understand the ordering of things or jumping to random topics.
I have such mixed feelings about this book. I loved it and found the honesty powerful and the insight into historical treatment powerfully described. However a large chunk of the book I felt spoilt it and left me feeling cheated - but you have to read it to find it why.
i- wow, i just got angry all the time at everyone. i understand their lives were never "normal" but karl man come on, and your parents. its not like your brother asked to be born autistic. anyway, it was informational but just made me sad and mad.
This was especially interesting for me because our family is sort of mirror image of the author's. It was raw and heartbreaking, and at times, horrifying.
2 1/2. Informative and honest, though a bit repetitive. Also, the almost the entire second half was a LIE. I've accepted that nonfiction/memoir is not for me.