Thinking differently

In recent years the concept of “neurodiversity” has attracted growing public attention. Business gurus have extolled its power in the workforce and many celebrities have talked about being neurodivergent. The neurodiversity movement is inherently inclusive, seeing autism, ADHD, dyslexia, dyspraxia and other neurological conditions as differences, not disorders. Its proponents argue that, given support, the neurodiverse have much to contribute to society, not least the creativity that comes with rarer ways of seeing, feeling and thinking.

A few lucky individuals – most famously Elon Musk, who is autistic – have been highly successful. Many more fail to thrive, and suffer from other people’s adverse reactions. In the hope of improving understanding and acceptance of neurodiversity, the three books reviewed here focus on autism. Daniel Tammet and Jodie Hare are autistic. (Like all three authors I use “autistic people” rather than “people with autism”, while recognizing that this may not be everyone’s choice.) Jodi Rodgers, a therapist who works with autistic children and adults, is not; but she has been careful to get the informed consent and support of her clients and families, and is sensitive to the fact that some people may object to having a neurotypical author voicing neurodiverse life stories.

This is because, as Tammet and Hare note, most writing about autism has been by “neuronormals”; and the strength of Tammet’s Nine Minds: Inner lives on the spectrum lies not only in his personal perspective, but also in his simple strategy of asking people who live with autism, or people who know them, to tell him frankly what it’s like. Obvious, one might think, but it’s a method long overlooked even by professionals with a specialist interest. Tammet’s interviews are conducted largely online. In part this is because the book is a product of the Covid years, though it also shows how the internet has enabled neurodiverse communities for whom face-to-face contact would be stressful to find their tribe and develop their political awareness.

The book features some well-known figures – the actor Dan Aykroyd, the poet Les Murray, the mathematician Cédric Villani and the novelist Naoise Dolan. Tammet’s aim is to evade “limiting clichés” by showing us “the singular power and beauty of the autistic imagination”, which can give us poets, actors and writers, not just computer programmers. They too can delight in nature, be excited by technology, business or culture; grieve and rage and feel the pain of social rejection. Nine Minds is presented as a celebration of autistic talent and depth, but Tammet also writes of “defying outdated prejudices”. It is a sad illustration of their potency that in 2024 this book should feel so fresh.

Rodgers’s How to Find a Four-Leaf Clover: What autism can teach us about difference, connection and belonging, like Tammet’s book, prioritizes individuals, albeit in a clinical context. Rodgers, who will be familiar to some from her work on the Australian reality television series Love on the Spectrum, is much more present in her book than Tammet is in his, interacting with autistic people in sometimes years-long relationships. (One autistic friend calculates that Rodgers may have talked with more than 1,000 autistic people.) As a therapist she tries to discover where and why her clients struggle, then help them or their caregivers to understand the causes and ease the rub if possible – either by teaching coping mechanisms or by persuading others to make the necessary adjustments.

How to Find a Four-Leaf Clover offers twenty-nine short chapters, each describing how an autistic person’s life was eased by a therapeutic approach. The clients range from non-verbal children to high-functioning adults, and the psychological detective work that solves each problem makes for fascinating reading. An incessantly screaming non-verbal child finds such peace in a swimming pool that she learns to trust Rodgers, who takes her there. A non-verbal boy in school abruptly drops to the floor, frozen, hands clamped over his ears, for no apparent reason; the cause is eventually traced to the noise of an exhaust fan. Though each case is treated briefly, the characters are vividly real.

Perhaps the most striking difference between Rodgers’s book and the other two reviewed here is in style and tone. Tammet and Hare write matter-of-factly. In Nine Minds, for example, we are told what people did at length, but also at a distance. An autistic man’s movie preference is described as “nothing too touchy-feely”. And even though Tammet disparages “limiting clichés”, the book features many of them: footpaths teem with tourists, people wander high and low, and so on. There are also points where more explanation would have been helpful. Not every anglophone reader will know where West Bromwich is, what is meant by “stimming” or what Vlasov equations are.

In How to Find a Four-Leaf Clover, by contrast, terms are defined, including stimming (“self- stimulatory behavior – repetitive movements [such as] rocking back and forth”). Autistic behaviours such as rocking are related effectively – for her presumably mostly neurotypical audience – to neurotypical behaviours like rocking a baby or relaxing in a rocking chair. If autistic people stim to self-soothe, Rodgers argues, why not let them, or find ways to reduce the pressure on them? The book’s tone is kind, patient, empathetic, non-judgemental and never pitying. There are a few infelicities – as a former neuroscientist I winced at the description of the thalamus as “a very clever part of the brain” – but these are minor; the narrative about the thalamus and autistic hypersensitivity, for example, is clearly set out. A deeper issue, which applies to all three books, is that the authors sometimes write as if describing problems will be enough to get people putting things right. Alas, that is unlikely to be true.

The fact that neurodiverse and disabled people have to interact with a world built by and for neuronormals is, according to Hare, at the root of their problems. In the short but ambitious Autism Is Not a Disease, she discusses the politics of neurodiversity, attacking the “medical model” that looks for cures and causes in bodies, brains and genes; instead she champions a “social disability model” that can “allow for individuals to seek support for coping with certain traits related to their diagnosis without putting an onus on the individual to eradicate their neurodivergence, and without reducing the demand on the wider society to make accommodations”. The fourth of five chapters explores issues of work and poverty, and possible changes. Despite its brevity, this thought-provoking book covers a lot of ground.

Hare has a powerful case. The historical treatment of neurodiverse people has been appalling: dyslexic children denigrated as stupid; autism attributed to “refrigerator mothers”; stigmatization, bullying, even institutionalization. Alas, not all such wrongs are in the past. In July a teaching assistant was in the news for beating up an autistic child at a school in Wolverhampton; because the boy was non-verbal, his attacker was only caught and convicted only thanks to CCTV. Research finds that autistic children feel much more unsafe at school and in public spaces than they do at home. Hare claims that “one in four autistic women are hospitalized for a psychiatric condition by the age of twenty-five”. Autistic people are also at greater risk of unemployment, physical ill health and suicide. They and other neurodiverse people are, Hare says, a marginalized minority, and she urges them to campaign for better treatment and to unite with other minorities in doing so.

Unfortunately the campaigning impact of Autism Is Not a Disease will be lessened by aspects of the book’s approach. One concerns its audience: is the author preaching just to the converted in her online community, or to a more general readership as well? Hare discusses the term “neurodiversity”, and why defining it is difficult, but other terms that will be unfamiliar to many – such as “cisheteronormative” and “neuronormativity” – are presented without explanation. Hare also shares with Tammet a tendency to lump all neurotypical people together – understandable for a political minority contrasting itself with the majority, but odd for a movement defined by its celebration of individual differences.

If Autism Is Not a Disease was written primarily for “the converted”, this might also explain its propensity to make sometimes challenging assertions without evidence. Hare describes neurodiversity as “a way of looking at the world” that shapes “who a person is at their core”, ie not a disorder needing a fix, but a difference requiring support. Her examples, however, include not just ADHD and dyslexia, but also dementia, the leading cause of death in the UK. This is, to put it mildly, controversial. Alzheimer’s doesn’t so much shape the core of a person as destroy it: the brain withers; deterioration is progressive and fatal. Labelling dementia as “neurodiversity” implies that research into cause and cure should be abandoned and replaced by support.

Jodie Hare’s political agenda could likewise have benefited from clarification. “So much of what neurodiversity demands of us”, she writes, “is the dismantling, rethinking and reimagining of systems, norms and processes that have long dominated our world, [which will] give us the opportunity to think also of abolishing capitalism, racism, imperialism, the patriarchy, and every other system that works against a future in which we are all liberated”. My first reaction on reading that was, I’m afraid, a sardonic “Is that all?” We are variously exhorted to tear down bad systems, reform them from within or simply change our language. This last seems inadequate: forbidden certain words, people find new ones. Reform is already happening, but human inertia (not to mention hostility, biases or groupthink) is a mighty force, and one that is underestimated here. “Autism is not a disease” is nevertheless a bold and important statement. Nine Minds offers insights into living with autism, while How to Find a Four-Leaf Clover shows us what a better society for neurodiverse people might look like. All three books have much to teach us.

Kathleen Taylor is a freelance science writer and an independent scholar. Her books include Dementia: A very short introduction, 2020

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