THE AUTISTIC BRAIN reads like a textbook. Each chapter is organized around a specific topic but these chapters are only loosely connected — not linked by an overarching theme, other than that they relate to different facets of autism. Readers lacking a scientific background will probably find some parts of the discussion unintelligible, which is a shame because there are gems in this book that deserve greater prominence.
Chapter 1 recaps Temple Grandin’s personal experience as a person on the autism scale. Today, she would be described as a high-functioning autistic. Early in childhood, she demonstrated symptoms we now associate with autism, but she was simply described as “odd” in 1949-50. She found talking difficult because, as a speech therapist later discovered, she had difficulty hearing consonants — when adults spoke, she heard only vowel sounds. She had a fixation on spinning objects (twirling her fork over her head) and her behaviour was “destructive”. Had she been born to a poor family, she would have been considered “brain-damaged” or “simple-minded”. As her mother had the money to hire a speech therapist and a nanny, she was slowly taught to live in a non-rocking, non-twirling world.
When my grandson turned two, his language development stalled. Whereas my son produced two- and three-word sentences before his second birthday (and my mother always said I was an “early talker”), my grandson stopped speaking coherently after the one-word stage, started having temper tantrums, and rocked for hours on the sofa. I was worried. What little I knew about autism (and I had a PhD in Psychology), was from courses I had taken as a freshman in 1966-67. Autistic children, according to the prevailing doctrine when I studied it, were children who couldn’t form attachments to others. I studied my grandson and saw that this was not true of him; he enjoyed interacting with other people. He simply didn’t have verbal communication skills, and so he communicated via touch. I consulted with a couple of colleagues and they suggested speech therapy. I then suggested speech therapy to his parents, who rejected this. My expectations were unrealistic, they thought. So my grandson continued to verbalize incoherently until he was four, when his mother suddenly realized that his speech was delayed, and enrolled him in a speech therapy class. Within four months, he was speaking normally. The speech therapist spoke slowly to him and got him to “hear” the sounds that he kept mixing up. This is exactly how Temple Grandin learned to speak. My grandson, however, continued to have behaviour problems — mainly hyperactivity — in school. Although his parents took him to doctors, and discussed his problems with school officials, nothing was ever done. The school “couldn’t afford to give him special education training” and, at any rate, didn’t know what was wrong with him, except that he couldn’t sit still.
Chapter 1 discusses the ways in which the criteria for diagnosis of autism spectrum disorder (ASD) have changed over the years, and concludes with the note that in 2012, when the book was being written, 1 in 88 children were now identified as having ASD. By 2012, my grandson had completed his schooling. He never received any assistance because “the school system couldn’t afford to pay for a program designed to meet his needs.” This was after I had insisted that he be given individual psychological testing. The person the school hired to do this testing concluded that he was “below average in intelligence” and arranged to send him to a special school for low-performing students. So he graduated, but he never learned to spell, to write, or to perform mathematical calculations.
He can read, however, although only Stephen King novels. When I was visiting Victoria (before I moved here), I was reading King’s Gunslinger series, and gave him the first two books after I finished them because there was no space in my luggage. He devoured them, when he was nine, and went on to read the rest of the series, and then all the books King had written up to that date. I don’t know why Stephen King’s writings were so easy for him to digest. Possibly because King is highly visual in his descriptions and my grandson has extremely well-developed visual abilities. Unfortunately, when my grandson was 13, he discovered computer games. Since then, he has spent all his leisure time either playing computer games (visual ones where he designs the environment) or watching TV with his father. He works as a clerk, and has no other job ambitions.
Chapter 2 of THE AUTISTIC BRAIN describes Temple’s experiences undergoing MRI and fMRI experiments. What she first noticed was that her brain wasn’t symmetrical — not unusual in itself because most people have asymmetrical brain pathways. After describing many different studies, the chapter comes to the conclusion that the brains of autistic people
may
form different types of connections — both overcompensate in some areas and under-compensate in others. Although this chapter describes many studies, it doesn’t establish anything except that scientists are still working diligently in this area.
Chapter 3 of THE AUTISTIC BRAIN discusses advances in investigating the DNA of autism and, like Chapter 2, discusses the current state of research but doesn’t reach a conclusion. The only important point that it makes is that the source of autism is genetic, but we have known this since 1977. Autism cannot be traced to just a few gene variations, even though we have known for decades that it is frequently inherited.
Chapter 4 of THE AUTISTIC BRAIN discusses the sensory disorders that people with autism often experience. She also describes interacting with a person with severe autism (as opposed to her high-functioning type) — Tito Rajarshi Mukhopadhyay, who has written a book entitled “How Can I Talk If My Lips Don’t Move?” I hope to read this book someday, as it provides insights into the world of the severely autistic. (Most books written by autistic people have been written by high-functioning autistics like Temple Grandin.). Temple concludes that many autistic people, especially those with severe autism, are bombarded with too much information — sensory overload. High-functioning autistics, like her, can learn to control this sensory overload; low-functioning autistics can not.
Chapter 5 describes today’s criteria for an APA diagnosis — (1) persistent deficits in social communication and social interaction; and (2) restricted, repetitive patterns of behaviour, interests, or activities. Of course, these criteria may change when the next DSM (Diagnosis and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) is written.
Chapter 6 is one of the most important chapters, because Temple examines the strengths of autistics and and notes that: ”researchers … have noted over the years that people with autism often pay greater attention to details than neurotypicals. … People with autism are really good at seeing details. They are Bottom-Up Thinkers. … can’t see the forest for the trees.” This is something I concluded over fifteen years ago, when I first became interested in autism.
Chapters 7 and 8 describe, in Temple’s words, her premise that success involves both talent and practice. In her words: ”All the hard work in the world won’t overcome a brain-based deficit … Neuroanatomy isn’t destiny. Neither is genetics. They don’t define who you will be. But they do define who you might be … the autistic brain can build up areas of real strength … we can actually change the brain to help it do whatever it does best.” All autistic people are not the same, Temple concludes, and it is time to stop treating them alike. “I am constantly meeting individuals with Asperger’s or high-functioning autistics who are graduating from high school and college with no job skills. … if we see that being able to see trees before the forest might make someone better at seeing certain kinds of patterns, then we can ask where that skill might be useful.”
When I reflect on my long life, I can see that I have known well at least two autistic people. I probably have met more, but those I am certain about, and I knew them for forty years or longer.
The first I’ll can Stan. Stan was a well-respected psychology researcher when I met him in 1973, but considered eccentric. After fifty years, his research continues to be cited. It was not the type of research that interested me, or that I could even do, because Stan focused on a narrow area of interest. He never asked the big questions; but he solved all the specialized ones in his area of study. But it is not his research that defined him as autistic, although I believe that many researchers who produce similar extensively detailed studies on narrow topics also are probably autistic. I discovered that Stan hated the way his mother had forced him to complete his studies and compelled him to “toe the line” as a child, not allowing him to pursue other issues that caught his fancy. As an adult, Stan broadened his scope to other topics in the real world, but always retained a narrow fixation on whatever took his whim. However, Stan disliked so vehemently the way he had been raised, that he ensured that his only son was raised differently. I met this son when he was 13. At the time, he was a chess master, brilliant in both math and music, and allowed to pursue whatever interested him. He graduated from university at a young age and was accepted into a PhD program, which he never completed. Since then, he has pursued many interests but never held a paying job. Today, he writes diatribes on arcane topics that he publishes online. Stan’s mother knew that he needed discipline in order to realize what he did best; Stan never realized that his son also required firm management to realize his full potential.
The second autistic I knew well I’ll call Jean. I met her in 1952. Jean was not brilliant. In fact, it was only with her mother’s constant persistence that she graduated from high school. But once she graduated, there were few jobs she could fill because most women’s jobs at that time required good writing skills and Jean’s writing skills were extremely poor. Jean was not a typical autistic in terms of her social skills. I often said that her social skills were better than mine — partially because her actions and responses were ingrained into her by her mother. After several mediocre jobs, Jean became an independent housecleaner and she was good at it, so good that she was able to buy a condominium by the time she was fifty. Jean’s problems developed when she was in her late sixties and, being an only child, inherited a substantial sum from her parents. She felt she was rich, and lived accordingly. She stubbornly refused to accept advice offered by those who had been her friends for decades. She knew best. This is typical of autistics who only see the trees and not the forest beyond. Today, at 83, she has little money left, and not even her condominium. Interestingly, Jean told me, many times, that she had wanted to be a mechanic when she was younger but, of course, in those days, women didn’t become mechanics. Also, although her mother was definitely not autistic, it is now plain to me that her father was. He ceaselessly worked on remodelling his house for over fifty years. He also held a repetitious factory job for over fifty years, factory jobs that are no longer available for autistics who love repetitious work.
.