This book was INCREDIBLY frustrating. The premise is extremely exciting: positing an autistic neurotype as experiencing sensory input at heightened levels, this being a cause of autistic perceptiveness and emotional breadth/depth and overwhelm, burnout, and reactivity.
The book, which is short, spends only a scant amount of space and energy discussing this, infrequently in a rigorous fashion. The vast majority of the book is spent issuing a dogmatic sales pitch for Internal Family Systems, a framework that I find completely alienating. If you don't, congratulations; you may like this book. However, as someone who really hates IFS and finds it impossible to implement, I was very disappointed to discover the book's promising premise being cast aside for 120 pages of insistence that I would LOVE IFS as an ~Autistic System~. It was irritating to be sold something as an exploration of a rigorous new framework, and to instead get this. It's not JUST that the book assumes that IFS is a universally applicable modality--it's also that it straight up treats the metaphoric "parts" framework as both literal and definitive. Just as you have a liver, so too do you have FIREFIGHTERS living inside you. PLEASE.
This is actually only one of several ways in which a book that purports to understand that autistics are multitudinous and each person unique consistently generalizes the group in inappropriate and unhelpful ways. Several things that really got my goat:
1) It addresses its descriptions of [an] autistic experience to "you," telling the reader "you" feel this, "you" have experienced this, "you" perceive the world in this specific way and react to it with these emotions, "you" have been punished for this specific behavior, "you" have these IFS Parts that do THIS thing, "you" can picture every pore of a clementine. Respectfully, you do not know me, and this is not a professional or clinically rigorous way to approach education to a broad audience. Your reader could be so many kinds of autistic person, so why is the hyperspecific consistently generalized? You're doing bad science, you're doing bad psychiatry, and you're just plain wrong!
2) A lot of the book's assertions about autistic "umwelt" seem to be drawn from Sarah Bergenfield's personal experience, which is made more explicit in the excerpts that are literally from her perspective and vignettes from her memories. The personal perspective on its own I don't mind - I love Megan Anna Neff's books on autism because they are written by an autistic clinician, but Neff is very good at using her experience as an occasional, carefully utilized bolster to her clinical experience, whereas Bergenfield seems to be unable to get out of her own head and entertain the notion that, as she herself says, all autistics are different from each other.
3) I don't love that they repeatedly assert that language delay is fundamental to all autistics. It is not.
4) I dislike even more their assured stance on diagnosis, which they seem to see as a clear dividing line between a miserable "before" and a healing "after," attainable for all autistics, necessary for loving yourself as an autistic, and an immutable science. They say nothing about self-diagnosis, and I mean nothing--they don't disagree with it, they don't embrace it, they don't acknowledge the important if embattled role it plays in the autistic community, in which both individuals and the group must wrestle constantly with the extreme self confidence and oft proven biases and shortfalls of the psychiatric establishment.
I've read some wonderful nonfiction about autism, and would strongly recommend both Dr. Neff and "Is This Autism?" and its companion book by Donna Henderson et al. But this? It was a great premise, a few lovely bits of strength-forward rather than deficit-forward descriptions of autism, and then a whole lot of calling Richard C. Schwartz "Dick." We all know Dick, right? From Internal Family Systems, the thing everyone agrees is the most good?
Really disappointed.