wrote like wet papier-mache
So I pick up this new Jodi Picoult book because it's got a dude with Asperger's as one of the characters and I know it's probably going to be really, really horrible and cringe-inducing but a slightly masochistic curiosity compels me and I flip the covers open and...
Literally. THE first sentence I lay eyes upon, on the first page that fell open (well, paraphrased a little because this was yesterday in the bookstore and contrary to stereotype I don't have an eidetic memory, but I can assure you that I've got it written out very nearly right):
"I can't tell if my son is really a monster, or if he's trapped behind a mask made of Asperger's."
I MEAN, WELL, HOT DAMN. It's so good to read about fictional characters with my condition/s, you know? Makes me feel all represented, validated, empowered and whatnot. I'm a monster in a mask, y'all. I wonder if the whole book is like that.
... Actually, hands-down, the best, most genuinely compassionate and true-to-life portrayal of Asperger's I've ever, ever seen was in the movie Mary & Max. And that is a claymation stop-motion film with jokes about chickens pooping tinsel.
Songs for this week:
1. Blue Angel, Squirrel Nut Zippers
2. Leavening of the Spit-Bread Girls, Munly & the Lee Lewis Harlots
3. We Call Upon the Author, Nick Cave
4. Alcohol, Barenaked Ladies
5. Cosmic Love, Florence & the Machine
6. The Tigers Have Spoken, Neko Case
7. Masterfade, Andrew Bird