I enjoyed hearing about Jory’s experience as a person with autism, and I came away from reading this book with a respect for his depth of thinking and for him as a person. As a book, however, I don’t think How to Be Human reaches its full potential. Its effectiveness is dulled by the fact that it is written primarily for a neurotypical audience. It’s funny to me that Jory himself says his autism is not the “most important thing” about himself (153) or always at the forefront of his mind, yet this book is centered around his autism. Is autism the most interesting thing about him, or is it just the most marketable thing about him for people that don’t have it? It obviously shapes his thinking and the way he interacts with the world/other people, but it doesn’t seem like the best topic to predicate the book (which is, by the way, somewhat incorrectly described as his memoir) on. He’s clearly a thoughtful and deeply empathetic man with interesting insights, ideas, and questions. Instead of allowing him to elaborate on those, the book feels stuck in its original intended structure – a book about an interesting man who has autism – instead of evolving with the conversation to become a book about an interesting man, who also has autism. It starts with Jory’s autism first and comments on everything else about him second, which I think is a backwards approach.
———-
The interview format introduces an inherent flaw into how Jory’s story (ha! that rhymes) is presented. I understand that having a “translator,” so to speak, is practical because Jory does not think in words and language and that it benefits him to have someone else process the information he provides. The downside of this, which I believe showed through in the book, is that Jory’s thoughts and Jory himself are filtered down through a neurotypical perspective. He is condensed into something readable and digestible for a specific subset of people: neurotypical people who rely on language to communicate. Even the questions asked seem to constrict Jory and force him to frame things in a “neurotypical” way. A huge question I have is: if Jory thinks visually and struggles with words and language, why would you ask him to describe his visual thinking in words and language? Why not ask him to draw or reference pictures/graphs/maps? There is one figure where Lyric asks Jory to draw a “map” of his mind. He does this, but then he has to explain it in words. After that, there are no more pictures, only word-heavy descriptions. I felt that what I was visualizing based on those words was something completely different from him, which doesn’t give me any insight into who he is or how he thinks. If his visual thinking had actually been visual, it may have limited the number of incorrect interpretations I could’ve made and reduced my confusion as a reader. You can tell he struggles to communicate this way, and it is a bit frustrating to read. Although the struggle to communicate is a necessary condition of him being able to share his story with a wider audience, I feel that the book’s structure causes him to accommodate neurotypical people more strenuously than necessary. Ironically, I really understood Jory’s point about the awful limitation of language through reading this book.
———-
I realize my disappointment probably stems from my incorrect expectations of this book. I failed to catch the text on the inside book jacket that says, “Those who inhabit the neurotypical world will begin to better understand their own [limitations]” – implying that this book is largely for neurotypical readers. I thought that this book was for readers with autism who want to learn about other people’s experiences with autism. The title is also a bit misleading, and I wonder who proposed it. I wasn’t expecting a literal how-to manual (like that facilitation manual Jory references), but the disconnect between this catchy title and the actual content of the book ties into my larger reservation about this book: that it is for neurotypical people.
———-
Last (and some will disagree with me on this), I think there is a slight perpetuation of the “autistic savant” stereotype throughout the book that is both distracting and counterproductive. I think many neurotypical people have a well-intentioned curiosity about how neurodivergent people think, based on an assumption that their way of thinking is a) super different or extraordinary from neurotypicals, or b) the same as other neurodivergent people. They want to learn more about other people’s experiences and perspectives, and I respect that. However, I think sometimes this type of thinking can become simply another version of the “autistic savant” ideal. For instance, the interviewer says something about his ideas about cultural differences (that why they exist/change how people interact with each other confuses him) being “refreshing,” and he says, “You may find my perspective on culture to be refreshing because it’s different… but I also hope nobody thinks my perspective is particularly valuable just because it’s different. I hope people see it, think about it, compare it back and forth, and get more nuanced about it.” Jory is aware that “there are both good and bad things that come with any perspective” (41), but the book seems to forget that sometimes. He’s right: he has a different perspective, but it’s just one perspective to build off of. It goes back to my question, why do most of the conversations start with Jory’s autism first, rather than with Jory himself? To him, his valuable perspective is just one of many other valuable perspectives. Shouldn’t readers be prompted to see him the way he sees himself? I agree with Jory when he says (about speculation on whether certain accomplished individuals are on the spectrum, with Nikola Tesla as an example), “I don’t particularly know why anybody would be overly concerned about that. To me, Tesla’s scientific accomplishments are interesting, but I wouldn’t be interested in whether he did or didn’t have autism. Same with everyone else. I might glance at it, but that’s all.” If Jory himself doesn’t build his understanding of people around their differences, then why does the book keep on prompting us to build our understanding of him around his differences? It’s absolutely necessary to discuss and celebrate differences, including autism, as well as to recognize the very real challenges that some of those differences can present. But when every conversation starts with autism first and the person second, that works against the shared humanity and perspective those conversations are trying to cultivate.
———-
In the end, I really enjoyed reading Jory’s insights and learning more about him. I’m grateful that this book exists, and it gave me perspective about him as a person. I always like hearing about how others think and operate, and hearing from Jory was no exception. Also, huge shoutout to Lyric, because as she mentions in the beginning even amassing the information in this book through many conversations with Jory was not a small feat. She does a great job of identifying important themes and helping Jory expand on them, as well as stitching everything together. I’m sure most of this book was composed by Lyric pulling three sentences from one conversation, and two sentences from another, etc. I think there are some inherent flaws in the book’s structure but overall, I enjoyed it and give it 4 stars out of 5.
Other thoughts:
1) I deliberately did not factor how much I do or don’t resonate with his experience into my rating, because he speaks only for himself and often reminds readers of that. As he says, there is no blanket statement to be made about autism and no two autistic people’s experiences are the same. Also, it feels weird to give an actual rating to someone’s life story; usually when I review an auto/biography I comment only on the writing and structure.
2) I found it difficult to understand Jory’s visual thinking descriptions, but in the way I usually find it difficult to understand anyone else’s particular brand of thinking. Interestingly, his illustrations related to intellectual topics, such as the orange polluted stream to comment on the odd difference between society’s outrage to issues with localized impact versus issues with larger systemic impact, made perfect sense to me.
3) Jory mentions a “social contract” that neurotypical people seem to be innately in tune with, that he feels he doesn’t understand. I wonder if the aspects of the neurotypical experience that he perceives as true are actually true, like if abiding by an unspoken social contract is as universally intrinsic as he believes?
4) He mentions that there are probably many people in the workplace who have autism but are not diagnosed or simply don’t mention it. I think that this is an extremely important point to note (especially since how autism presents in adults is more nuanced than in children who are diagnosed early) and this is part of a larger conversation about how wide the spectrum is and how it presents differently in different people.
5) Sometimes it feels like the book tries too hard to allocate discrete aspects of who he is to his autism, which frustrates me. There is no place where Jory’s autism ends and Jory starts. He’s only ever been autistic. Yet, it felt like a lot of questions asked were along the lines of, “How does your autism affect this or that aspect of who you are?” when he has no real basis for how to answer that question. He can’t truly compare his experience to a neurotypical one. He just is. I’d also guess that Jory rarely thinks about those questions on his own. I don’t get why he’s being asked to think about it, because it doesn’t add value for him.
Quote(s) I liked:
"I've always been of the mind that opinions are only useful if you're willing to change them very rapidly. In a lot of cases, people think that means you have no values. But that's just people confusing values and opinions." (170).