“Every passionate reader lives for that first page of a book that alerts her, straightaway, she’ll be sorry when the book ends. So it is with Michelle Latiolais’ astonishing, sparklingly intelligent new novel...The work strives, with bold zest, to arrive at the marrow of things...Latiolais triumphs, folding the work’s clinical ruminations into the story’s delicious batter. Powerfully recommended.”— Antioch Review “The novel counts—in elegant and sometimes elegiac prose—the shadowy and elusive opportunities for redemption.”—Ron Carlson, author of Five Skies “A ravishing intelligence is at work in these pages.”—Elizabeth Tallent, author of Honey , on Even Now A gifted psychiatrist, haunted by the death of his young sister, seeks to penetrate the mysteries of childhood autism in this beautifully written, insightful investigation into the misunderstood pathways of the brain—and the heart. Michelle Latiolais is associate professor and co-director of the Programs in Writing at the University of California, Irvine. Her novel Even Now won the Commonwealth Club of California Gold Medal for Fiction in 1991.
Michelle Latiolais, the author of the short story collection Widow: Stories and the novels A Proper Knowledge and Even Now, is an English professor and codirector of the Programs in Writing at the University of California at Irvine.
Michelle Latiolais is one of the best writers working today--one deserving of a much wider readership. Her novels are dense, challenging (in a great way), and immensely rewarding. Her sentences are like intricate gems, refracting in all sorts of interesting ways when you hold them to the light. Here's the opening sentence: "Stan engines into Luke's office, his legs pistoning, fanatical, fueled by something seemingly unstoppable and mechanical, and so frightening--and frightening anew each time, Luke must admit--because each time Luke is alarmed and he knows it registers in his eyes and body until the physician arrives on board and he remembers who he is in this equation called doctor and patient."
The writing was wonderful; the characters complex. And I read slowly, slowly, as the sentences seemed to demand, requiring patience "like that of a percussionist in a symphony orchestra." An extremely long and detailed conversation of emotional weight and wit and all sorts of sexual tension takes place between two characters in a speeding car along the cliffs of the California coast, and I was tense the whole time I was reading: I was having the very odd experience of being in the vehicle with the characters and nervously willing the distracted driver to look-at-the-road. (He even takes a cell phone call while driving and a commences a third or fourth layer of conversation. I could barely abide it.) A very California novel. As excellent as Widow: Stories, though I needed emotional breaks from the mind of protagonist with this one, which isn't really necessary in short stories. In fact, I've decided that any book I choose to begin reading today should not have people in it (nor autism, flower arranging, fast cars, death, or hyper-intelligent, self-conscious, lonely people).
In an interview, Michelle herself says, “One of the things we’ve forgotten about is the sentence-by-sentence experience of reading.” One cannot help but notice the sentences when reading A Proper Knowledge. In notes to myself about the book, I wrote: while autism may be represented by the inability to speak language in an appropriate way—by conforming to established standards of behavior or manners, A Proper Knowledge demonstrates language in the best lyrical sense—how a sentence so beautifully wrought can communicate the most mournful and tragic details of a story. The sentences mediate the relationship between the characters, especially the autistic children, and the reader. We become attached to the children, Polly, Stan, and Henry, to their peculiar obsessions, to their particular cases of autism, and to Luke, their psychiatrist, as the means to understanding them through his meticulous observation. As a reader, I marvel at Michelle’s meticulous observation for she has written not only a story about childhood autism, loss and healing, but also a story about how the creative mind works—in the brilliant psychiatrist, in the extraordinary children, and in the writer herself.
This novel is fantastic. The depth of information about autism is impressive, and the professional and personal stories are very intricately woven. There are also a number of observations that are striking in their insightfulness and the way that they instantly remind me of people I have known and experiences I have had.
I was hoping for more from this book than it delivered. The main female characters annoyed me somehow and just didn't seem believable. I did like the passages of the book where Latiolais describes the differences in perception, communication, and human interaction that people with autism are both blessed and cursed with. Totally annoying though was her belief in/use of the whole mercury preservative in childhood immunizations 'causing' autism theory. I do realize this is fiction, but it surprised me that the Bellevue Literary Press allowed that to stay in the book.
I look forward to reading some of this author's short stories, as I suspect that is where she really shines.
Having read her collection of intertwined stories, Widow: Stories, I was eager to read this short, highly rated, novel. While I was much impressed by that previous collection, I found this novel less so. At times, her prose is as fresh and lucid as always, but the story itself, while interesting, just doesn't quite feel real to me. By the end of the story, we get to know her central character, Luke, a psychiatrist specializing in treating autistic youth, well. Through his patients and his conversations, the author portrays the condition of autism and his approach to treatment as if she were herself a professional clinician.
On the other hand, his personal life is harder to understand. We do come to know his mother, with whom he remains very close, as well as her young friend, Janey, who transitions from being a live-in caregiver to working for a floral designer, named Alice. Luke initially becomes fascinated by Alice's work, but quickly transitions to being attracted to the artist herself. On the other hand, Alice, an artist who designs original floral displays, remains a mystery in the end. In addition, Luke seems recklessly impulsive--by their second "date," he is asking her to move in with him, before they have got to know one another or spent a night together. She counters by inviting him to stay overnight at her place, which is a part of her massive studio. He projects all sorts of feelings onto Alice, but the reader doesn't really come to understand what makes her tick.
Some of my reservations are shared by Josephine Ensign and by Cynthia Reeser. Despite raves by some other reviewers and glowing quotes on the book jacket by some other well known writers, it's clear that this book has not met with much commercial success. Originally published in 2008, there are only 36 ratings on GR and only 2 on amazon.com! This author deserves wider recognition.
Oh the detail, the detail... great piece of writing. Not a lot happens, yet a lot happens, internally, to the protagonist, psychiatric specialist in Autism, whose own life tends to lack social skills and who is still mourning the death of his sister long ago. A perfectionist, he falls for the ethereal floral design expert, fascinating character, and suddenly his life takes off. A lot of discussion on Autism and treatment - the book was published by Bellevue Press which tends to focus on scientific fiction - and it's all fascinating if you want to read about that, and worth reading for the characterizations and lovely descriptive prose. I am going back to her early work as well.