My favourite authors of all time have to be
Jane Austen and Connie Willis, because I love the way they bring characters and
settings to life, and also the way their stories are told with subtle wit. Sadly, we will see no more from Jane
Austen. Pride and Prejudice must
be one of the greatest novels ever written, so who know what she could have
produced had she lived longer. From
Connie Willis, I particularly liked Passage, Doomsday Book and Bellwether. Her latest books are very good too.
I tend to read in clumps of authors or
genres as my tastes and interests change.
Nowadays, I tend to stay clear of the big-name authors and publishers
and look for something a little different, so I'm more into the smaller presses
and Indie authors. Also, the writing
must be good, or I won't finish a book.
I want the author to convince me, to make me think I'm right there in
the story, to feel for the characters and what they're going through.
There are a surprising number of really talented
Indie writers who don't get any attention from the big bookstore chains because
they are self-published or published by small presses. I like discovering some of those, and that's
where a website like Awesome Indies is great because it promotes the best Indie
fiction. There's too many to name all of
them, but if I could mention a few, they include Lee Murray, Ripley Patton,
Sara Furlong Burr, Pavarti Tyler. I look
forward to more of their books.
Genres: Contemporary, New Adult
Synopsis:
Robert is different. He has Asperger’s Syndrome. He experiences the world differently to 99% of the population. Follow his entertaining and highly empathetic story as he struggles to realise and accept who he really is, try to understand other people—which he cannot—and find a girlfriend. Especially find a girlfriend—he’s decided it’s his special project for the year. Accompanied on this transformative journey by his quirky flatmates, Chloe (who also has Asperger’s, amongst other things), Stef (who hasn’t, but doesn’t mind) and their oddly-named kitten, Robert endures a myriad of awkward moments in his quest to meet a nice, normal girl…and not even a major earthquake will stop him.
This absorbing and humorous story is starkly told from Robert’s point of view, through the kaleidoscope of autistic experience.
This absorbing and humorous story is starkly told from Robert’s point of view, through the kaleidoscope of autistic experience.
Meeting Chloe in the café became comfortingly
familiar and as regular as clockwork. On Mondays, Tuesdays (twice), Thursdays
and Fridays, we convened in the café—nearly always at the same corner table,
whenever we could occupy it, and with the same drinks—like déjà vu stuck in
some kind of unstoppable time loop. On a few occasions, the time passed without
either of us saying anything, but somehow comforted by the other’s presence.
Sometimes we talked about our studies or assignments, but mostly we talked about
ourselves. Or more accurately, I should say Chloe talked about herself. She had
been entirely truthful about the verbal diarrhoea. Words spilled out of her
mouth with a rapid staccato, machine-gun-like rhythm.
But I did not mind this. When I was in the café
by myself, I could only observe people interacting socially, try to work out
what was going on in their minds and what it was they were doing, to try to
unravel the mystery of their behaviour. I never actually knew what was going on
with them, could never properly interpret what I observed, because I could only
imagine. Invariably, people behaved inconsistently and did not do what I
expected or wanted them to do, and I could not discern any patterns underlying
their actions. This was confusing, sometimes bewildering.
With Chloe, it was all very easy. She just
poured herself out to me, wholly and honestly and clearly, and I lapped it all
up like a thirsty kitten drinking cream from the saucer of knowledge. For the
first time, I had a friend I could understand, and who could understand me,
because we seemed to communicate on the same wavelength. I think she felt the
same, but she never said exactly.
Chloe told me all about herself, how she had
been first diagnosed when young, and passed from doctor to doctor and
psychiatrist to psychiatrist, collecting the acronyms of different diagnoses
like alphabet soup until finally she was evaluated with Autism Spectrum
Disorder (ASD). Once she knew that, she sped-read numerous books on the
subject, assimilating their collective wisdom. The very best, she told me, were
those written by fellow Aspies who had struggled to fit into the NS world but
ultimately prevailed to establish their own place within it somehow, and yet
remain true to themselves. Chloe said she could identify with their early
lives, and that everything in her own life, past and present, made sense to her
after reading those books. She had always known she was different, and now she
understood why. And I agreed with her. I borrowed the books and read them too.
I felt the same.
Chloe explained that her father travelled a lot
on business and tried to make up for his frequent absences by ensuring that she
always had the best care possible. Evaluations. Psych tests. Personality tests.
Private mental hospital whenever she felt especially distressed. A seemingly
interminable tweaking of her medications (eleven different combinations so far)
in an attempt to find the right mix and dosage, a kind of educated guessing on the
part of her doctors. There is so little known about the human mind in general
and the Aspie mind in particular. It is so complex that all the doctors can do
is just try one thing at a time, pick up the pieces if it does not work out as
planned, and try something else, trying to solve the incomplete jigsaw of a
fractured human mind.
One day when she met me in the café, my life
changed forever.
Kevin Berry is an indie author. His particular niche is writing Aspie New Adult contemporary novels set in an earthquake zone. The first of these is STIM, published in October 2013.
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