Back in the early oughts, it seemed as if everyone I know was self-diagnosing themselves with Asperger’s. At the time, I was in a big math/engineering school, so I am willing to bet that there was a higher incident of ASD there than in the general population, but it felt like on Friday we went from a handful of people who were autistic to on Monday ninety percent of the men I knew claiming Asperger’s. Did they actually have Asperger’s? I’m not a psychiatrist so I can’t comment, but I did do some of the online self-tests myself to see if I had some form of ASD and firmly got smack in the middle of the scale, which makes a bit of sense as I tend to be a bit obsessive and good with patterns, but I’m fairly confident that my dislike of social situations and awkwardness around pretty much everyone I have ever met has less to do with some degree of autism and more to do with introversion and general anxiety disorder.
Still, when Tessie Regan writes:
Everyone knows the rules to the game. They all have the right equipment and have lingo and special hand signals to give each other shortcuts or warnings. They are organized and conditioned well. They remembered to stretch and tie their shoes and drink lots of water. And me? I feel like I went to bat with a bendy straw and I’m wearing a colander for a helmet.
I can’t help but think yes, this is exactly it. I know exactly how that feels.
The stories here are more like small, personal (although perhaps fictional; it’s never really one hundred percent clear) essays about life as an alcoholic, life as someone with Asperger’s, life coming back to God, and the intersection between them. Regan writes the religious parts as a personal narrative with no proselytising or assumption that you agree or disagree with the path she takes back to religion.
People like to think of god [sic] swooping in and making a Cinderella story of assholes like myself. But the really uncomfortable truth is that when I was dying, when I was busted broke by the world, all I could do was cry and pray really simple prayers.
Perhaps these stories are true. Perhaps not. But the feeling of truth pervades every story which matters more than the actual truthiness of the tales.
Phrase I wish I’d written first: “rubbing pennies together hoping they would magically procreate into a nickel.”
Who should read this book: People struggling with addiction, people leaving or coming to religion, people interested in ASD, people who like personal essays. Actually, scrap that; this book would likely be of interest to anyone who likes to read.
Such Bright Prospects: Short Stories about Asperger Syndrome, Alcohol, and God by Tessie Regan goes on sale October 21st.
I received a copy free from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.
Comments
This is fascinating, Meghan — thanks for the review. I love short personal narratives, and all the topics mentioned are pretty much right up my alley. Plus, that line about the colander really is brilliant — I’ve felt like that now and again too, but I can’t imagine how hard life can be when you feel like that almost all the time.
Author
Lydia, I was actually thinking a lot about you as I read this book, the way the narrator’s faith organically wove through the stories. I think you’d like reading it. It’s short – only about one hundred and thirty pages and a collection of short pieces, so you could always read one or two at a time.
Anyway, keep an eye out for it. I do think you’d enjoy the book greatly.