Allen Shawn is a thoughtful writer, and this memoir of how he and his family's life was shaped by both the presence and absence of his autistic twin sister Mary contains a lot of unanswered, and perhaps unanswerable, questions.
Shawn's sister is sent away from home at age 8, and he is still dealing with this severed relationship with his twin. "To me there was nothing wrong with Mary. She was simply herself, an inextricable part of the world I knew."
The family was full of secrets and repressed feelings, and Mary became a mostly unacknowledged black hole in the dynamics of the other members: his parents, his older brother, and himself. We are defined as much by what is gone as by what remains, and this seems particularly true of the bond of twinship. Though his parents and brother tiptoed around the void, Aleen had no choice but to be constantly engulfed within.
Shawn early on discovered music as therapy, a way to express what he could not put into words, and an escape from what he did not know he was running from. Some of his most wonderful recollections involve the music that he discovered, explored, and created, and how it affected his intellect, growth, and emotions. He finds a parallel in his sister's problems with spoken language: "Mary has an entire language at her disposal, but words are only a small part of it." There are many ways to communicate and understand the world, and though Mary's ways are not those most people use, that does not mean they are not equally valid or equally rich.
Everyone is mysterious and unknowable to some extent, the person with autism just more so than most. "When you look closely at anyone, they transcend type. Everyone is on a spectrum. Everyone breaks the rules."
I couldn't help making a connection between Mary and Fuka-Eri, in Murakami's 1Q84, which I'm in the middle of reading. Both don't quite fit comfortably, have their own interior rules for communication, seem to experience the world in a slightly off-kilter, different, way. Yet both play important roles in the lives of those around them.
Before humans came to diagnose and label the "mentally ill" or "differently abled" many cultures found roles for them that allowed these people to be themselves yet also to be part of the larger world. Shawn mourns not only Mary's isolation and separation, but "her untapped potential." To cope with and feel comfortable in the present world we must conform to a large extent, and follow the rules or risk rejection, banishment, confinement. Some things are gained through such order, but we need to acknowledge that much is also lost. If we could learn to "recognize [Mary] in ourselves" perhaps we could find room for a richer variation in normal acceptablity.