jimhines

Elizabeth Moon’s The Speed of Dark [Amazon | B&N | Mysterious Galaxy] was a hard book for me to read, and an equally hard one to figure out how to review.

Moon has an autistic son, which clearly informed her writing of this book. The Speed of Dark tells the story of Lou Arrendale, an autistic man living in a near future very similar to our own time. The back of the book blurb focuses on:

…an experimental “cure” for his condition. Now Lou must decide if he should submit to a surgery that may change the way he views the world–and the very essence of who he is.

But the book is so much more. This isn’t an action or adventure novel, and the treatments and potential cure for autism is pretty much the only real SF element in the story.

The most powerful thing, to me, is the way Moon brings you into Lou’s perspective:

It is hard to drive safely in the hot afternoon, with the wrong music in my head. Light flashed off windshields, bumpers, trim; there are too many flashing lights. By the time I get home, my head hurts and I’m shaking. I take the pillows off my couch into the bedroom, closing all the shades tightly and then the door. I lie down, piling the pillow on top of me, then turn off the light.

This is something else I never tell Dr. Fornum about. She would make notes in my record about this…

As the father of a boy on the high-functioning end of the autistic spectrum, I spent a fair amount of time reminding myself that Lou’s experiences aren’t meant to be a universal representation of autism. Lou works with other autistics, doing pattern-analysis for a large corporation, and Moon does a very good job of showing Lou and the other characters as individuals. Autism is a significant part of who they are, but it doesn’t define them.

Moon shows many of the challenges Lou faces, both the internal and the external. A new supervisor wants to eliminate the “special accommodations” Lou and his unit receive at work. A man from Lou’s fencing group blames Lou for his problems, accusing people like him of stealing jobs from “normal” people. (Sound familiar? Much of this book could be set in today’s world.)

And then there’s the potential cure, the chance for Lou to be normal, whatever that means. Moon does a decent job of exploring the moral messiness and complexities of “curing” autism, though I would have liked to see more of this part. Should we cure someone who’s able to function? What about someone we define as low-functioning? How many of the challenges autistic people face are inherent to the condition, and how many of those challenges are externally created?

The Speed of Dark is a book that makes you think. Lou is a wonderful, sympathetic, beautiful protagonist. This isn’t a plot-oriented, action-packed book, but it’s one I definitely recommend reading.

For those of you who’ve read it already, I’d love to hear what you thought.

Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.

Ms. Moon,

I’ve been torn about writing this.  In part because “An open letter to _____” just sounds pretentious to me.  And partly because I know there have already been twenty-four gazillion responses to your 9/11 blog post, Citizenship.

I’ve recommended your blog on multiple occasions, for your thoughtfulness and perspective.  I disagree with much of what you say in your 9/11 post, but that doesn’t change my appreciation for other things you’ve written.

That said, I strongly disagree with what you wrote about citizenship and the obligations of the Muslim community with regard to the Mosque at Ground Zero (which is, in fact, neither a Mosque nor at Ground Zero.)

I do agree with much of what you say about citizenship, and about people’s obligation and responsibility to their nation.  I would even expand that obligation to the need to contribute to the betterment of self, of family, of nation, and of the world.  (And beyond, for that matter … we are SF/F authors, after all.)

But I’m troubled by your comments on assimilation.  You say, “Groups that self-isolate, that determinedly distinguish themselves by location, by language, by dress, will not be accepted as readily as those that plunge into the mainstream.”  This conflates identity with isolation, and presumes that isolation, when it occurs, is entirely self-imposed.  But I agree with you that often groups which appear “different” are not as readily accepted.

I don’t see that as a failure of those who choose not to “assimilate.”  I see that as a failure of the rest of us to accept those who are not like us.

With regard to the community center, you said, “When an Islamic group decided to build a memorial center at/near the site of the 9/11 attack, they should have been able to predict that this would upset a lot of people.”

I suspect most Muslims in this country recognize that building a mosque (or an Islamic community center) will upset people.  Of course, most Muslims also recognize that a vocal minority of our country is upset simply by the fact that Muslims exist.  Should Muslims allow intolerance, ignorance, and hatred to dictate their actions?

What troubles me most is your commentary on citizenship, and the implication as to who is and is not deserving of such.  You use Muslim and immigrant interchangeably, as though the only Muslims in this nation are newcomers to our shores, ignoring those who have lived here and fought for this country in times of war for generations.  And then you talk about how we “let Muslims believe stuff that unfits them for citizenship.”

I would love to know what these forbidden beliefs are, and how you feel they unfit someone for citizenship.

Last week I defended the right of a U. S. citizen to spread a message I despise.  Because that’s what this country is supposed to be.  Not a land of the like-minded.  Not a land where thoughts and beliefs, religious or otherwise, disqualify one for citizenship.  But a land of disagreement.  A land that doesn’t fear difference, but celebrates it.  A land that draws strength from diversity.

We don’t always live up to those ideals.  When it comes to immigration and assimilation, we fail often.  We mock those who are different.  We pressure them to give up their history and their heritage.  We drive a wedge between children of immigrants and their families.  That is our failure, and it is unforgivable.

You mentioned the “responsibilities of citizenship in a non-Muslim country.”  But this is a Muslim country.  It is also a Jewish country.  It is an atheist country.  It is a country of Quakers and a country of Mormons, a country of Catholics and a country of Baptists.  (Even, I have no doubt, a country of Jedi.)

I believe terrorists who would attack this country should be hunted down and stopped.  I believe those whose beliefs lead them to violate the law should be punished.  But I do not believe in punishing or restricting the rights of the many for the acts of a few.  There are an estimated 600,000 Muslims living in New York City alone.  They are as American as you or I.  Not because they have been assimilated, but because this country welcomed them … even if sometimes its people do not.

You close by commenting on the responsibilities of citizenship.  I believe one of those responsibilities is to defend the principles this country stands for … even when those principles make us uncomfortable.

I don’t mean to lecture, and it’s not my intention to talk down to you or attack you, but this is (obviously) something I feel very passionately about.

You remarked in your newsgroup, “Saying anything someone doesn’t like greatly reduces their ability to read what was written.”  I suspect you will not like what I’ve written here.  I hope, when you’ve gotten a little distance from the anger and pain your post triggered, that you’ll read it anyway.  I don’t expect you to agree with everything I’ve said, but I hope you’ll consider why so many people have expressed feeling angry and hurt by your words.

Yours,
Jim C. Hines

Mirrored from Jim C. Hines.