Seanan McGuire (seanan_mcguire) wrote,
Seanan McGuire
seanan_mcguire

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When the music stops, the rest is silence.

I've spoken before about how much I read, and about how much I seek for representation in fiction, both for myself, and for the sake of the people that I care about. How much it hurts when you're the token, or invisible, or the person that doesn't exist. How hard it is to accept that somehow, often through no fault of your own, you're the sort of person who doesn't get to be the star of stories, or even a major supporting character. And about how wonderful it is when that somehow, against all odds, you open a book and see yourself, or your friends.

Yesterday, I read Silence, by Michelle Sagara. She's a fellow DAW author, a sweet, smart lady, and an all-around neat person whom I adore both personally and professionally. But before yesterday, I have never wanted to hug her for an hour and thank her forever.

Silence is a solid, interestingly-told YA novel that seems, superficially, to be just another wave in the current flood of YA supernatural. Being a wave isn't bad; I write urban fantasy, I am basically sponsoring a surfing competition. But there's something wonderful about diving into a wave and discovering infinitely more.

Emma, our protagonist, talks to dead people. She has several close female friends, including Allison, who would be a stereotypical geek in some stories, and Amy, who would be just as stereotypically a mean girl. Yet they work, and they make sense, because they are genuinely written as people. It's not presented as criminal to be smart, or to be pretty: it's just who you are. Emma's greatest asset is her niceness, a genuine generosity of spirit that is so very rare in heroines today. She reminded me of Vixy, and that's about the highest praise I have.

But really, where this book won me, and why I recommend it so readily, was when we met Michael. Michael, who is a high-functioning autistic who has been going to school with Emma and the others since kindergarten. Michael, who is in advanced math and science classes and doing just fine, thank you. Michael, whose friends care about him and look out for him, and who value his friendship and his place in their lives. He is presented with limitations, but so is every other character in the book. He's presented as a person, and for that alone, I will love Michelle forever.

Read Silence. Read it because it's awesome, and read it because any author who includes a complex, well-written, believable, believably autistic central character deserves our applause, and book sales are the best form of clapped hands, for an author.

My hat is off to her.
Tags: from mars, good things, gratitude, reading things
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  • 45 comments
Im guessing but its possible she uses her own son as a model for this character. She has been blogging about her experiences with him from a baby, and how they learned to deal together as a family. He has Aspergers to some reasonable level and I found it really very interesting.

So there may be an added element of 'real' and that would be why. She is on LJ

http://msagara.livejournal.com/
I was going to recommend that - I have no experience with anyone on the spectrum, but it's been fascinating reading her posts about how she and her family have raised her son to be just a person in control of his world, who happens to have a different perspective.

I haven't read Silence yet (no disposable income, and no disposable time with moving and disability applications), but none of her books (Sun Sword, Elantra, or Sundered) have ever disappointed me.
"I have no experience with anyone on the spectrum"

Actually, you may not know that you have experience with anyone on the spectrum. There is a wide swath of the autism spectrum that can present as neurotypical—you wouldn't know it unless they told you. It's a sensory processing issue and can manifest itself in odd ways.

And I say this because after we got a diagnosis of our son as mildly autistic (as in, stick him in a special ed preschool so he learns coping techniques rather than having to develop them himself and he'll probably be mainstreamed by the time he hits third grade), my husband started noticing interesting developmental parallels with his childhood.

We're considering getting a diagnosis just to clear things up, but we're pretty sure based on the evidence that he was exactly the same autism profile as our son, and nobody noticed because he just seemed to be a bright, somewhat geeky kid*.

*His mother insists that no, he couldn't possibly be on the spectrum. Which is amusing, since she's the one who pushed us to get our kid tested & into therapy. She was a special ed teacher and may have instinctively compensated.
That's a good point. Especially since I went to a college packed full of the smart kids that couldn't get dates in high school because all they were interested in was math and science. I just wouldn't think they were odd, really, because it seems like a good interest to me.

And as I thought about it, I do know someone, although not well - a coworker's son is somewhere on the spectrum, although I don't know where. I remember she had a hard time one day when the schools had a snow day, but we didn't, and he couldn't understand why there wasn't school and it wasn't a holiday.
It's very possible, and I've read her LJ (she's a friend of mine). I just didn't want to be the girl going "she can write autism because she has an autistic son you guys!" in case she really didn't draw on him at all while creating Michael. It seemed...dismissive for me to assume that, you know?
Absolutely. If a writer who genuinely wants to accurately portray someone with a characteristic they have no direct experience with (whether it be race, gender, sexual orientation/identity, disability, etc.) cannot do it, even with research and outreach and maybe volunteer work for assistance or equality, then how can a society integrate these parts into a whole? Michelle just had a head start on the learning process for that characteristic that she doesn't have.

Her posts are fascinating, though. I love the way they let their son have some control, so he could let go of some of the schedule rigidity. It's really just an extension of any parent-child relationship, just more obvious - with a helicopter parent, you get a young adult in college who doesn't know how to deal well with new situations. If the parents start letting their offspring have more and more control of their lives as they get older, they're more comfortable with themselves and changes in their environment.