The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, by Mark Haddon

I first read this an age ago, before I had children or that much knowledge of autism. It's been a strange thing to revisit now I have more experience. 

This audio version is largely narrated by Ben Tibber as 15 year-old protagonist Christopher Boone from Swindon, but with a full cast playing the other characters. That works very well. We see (or hear) events as Christopher understands them. He has an eye for and takes satisfaction in detail, and we often get raw, unembellished facts, whether about his own anxieties and bodily functions or grown-ups' sex lives, swearing and violence. 

His hyper-focus on particular things - prime numbers, colours, smells - and his bluntness are often funny. I've seen some readers object to this, feeling that we are led to laugh at Christopher. But I think something else is going on; we laugh because we understand the way he sees the world. It comes about through empathy.

That, I think, plays off against the more disturbing stuff. The world is a scary place. A whole load of things terrify Christopher (noises, strangers, things that are brown) and sometimes leave him unable to speak (except to us). There are also a whole load of things that he doesn't quite comprehend - but we do as readers. 

Reading the book again now, what strikes me is how many of the characters are cross, impatient, at the end of their tether and sometimes downright cruel. That's in direct contrast to us as readers, comprehending of and amused by this boy. We embrace the ways he thinks differently; they just lose their tempers.

Christopher can certainly be exasperating and exhausting, and the grown-ups are fallible, flawed people. There are things here I recognised as the parent of an autistic child. But the over-riding sense, I think, is one of sadness because Christopher is not exactly surrounded by kindness. There's a lot of chaos and argument (which I can empathise with) but not a lot of joy. As a result, I think we judge his parents, his neighbours, his teachers, the police... The empathy for him is not extended to them. And I think that's an an issue given that some of their bad behaviour is rather contrived.

I keep picking over a key element of the plot. As Christopher determinedly investigates the murder of his neighbour's dog, he unravels an audacious falsehood that has been told to him and others for some time. Yes, I can see how Christopher would be duped because he takes what he's told at face value. But that doesn't apply to anyone else: have they really not questioned or checked what has been said about something so fundamental? When the lie is exposed, is there no consequence for the liar? The school, the police, the neighbours... no one seems very bothered.

At the end, Christopher seems liberated by a number of things that have happened over the course of the story: his schoolwork, his trip to London, his unravelling of the mystery. He's written this account - this book - and feels he can achieve anything. I'd like to believe so but I'm not sure surviving an ordeal is the same as learning from it. What will he and those around him do differently to avoid another crisis, or deal with it better when it comes?

But I'm not sure if that's a criticism of the book or a sign of how much it got under my skin.

Autism, by Jessie Hewitson

I learned about this book in December when the author was a guest on the (brilliant) 1800 Seconds on Autism podcast, and was particularly struck by the subheading: "How to raise a happy autistic child."

It's full of useful advice, explaining the myriad ways autism can manifest and the torturous process of fighting for support. Hewitson has talked to a lot of experts, lots of similarly struggling parents and - most importantly - lots of autistic people themselves. As well as the practical tips and details of where to turn to for help, the book underlines that this can be very difficult but not impossible. You are not alone.

If there's one message here it's to be proactive and to fight on. Hewitson says she hopes the chapter on support in education will "empower parents to know some of their rights and help people with less money and privilege to navigate this complex system."

"Some local authorities are good, but many of you who have already embarked on the quest to get your council to stump up will know it is those who fight hardest and play the LA at their own game who get most support. The poorer kids, or the kids who don't have the capacity for the fight, are gettinng less support or, increasingly none. Meanwhile, the children of the middle-classes are getting provision because their parents can understand and can play or afford to play the system." (pp. 208-9)

It's not just knowing how to play the system, it's also having the means. Many of the therapies suggested here cost money and also take time. You need time to battle the system and go to all the appointments. You need time to chase the things promised that haven't been done. Then, after all that battling, you're offered a course - or more than one - at short notice, an hour a week for however many weeks that effectively writes off half a day when you're already struggling to stay on top of things. Being freelance has helped me be flexible but all that time eaten up has its effect, from the constant missing of deadlines to never earning enough.

So I read Hewitson's accounts of various private therapy sessions with envy. But we battle ever on.