Big Neurodivergent Energy Books: 1-5

Branching out into books now. Most of the entries on today’s list are middle-grade novels and series, formative reading for a neurodivergent kid who’s looking to see themselves in their books. I loved some of these when I was a kid, and I discovered others a bit later in life. Oh, and I couldn’t resist putting a little Jane Austen in there too!

 

Bridge to Terabithia

It occurs to me that, with characters who could fall within the trope of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl, the most nuanced examples can often be read as autistic. Yes, Leslie comes into Jess’s life and makes it better, because she cares about chasing her passions more than what other people think of her, and she encourages Jess to do the same. When I was a kid, I was absolutely enchanted by the thought of a hideaway in the woods where I could create my own imaginary kingdom, where I wouldn’t have to think about any of the boring, frustrating, challenging things about “real” life. And I don’t know about you, but that feels like a big autistic mood to me!

 

Matilda

There have to be a lot of autistic folks who feel they’ve found a champion in the little girl who gets revenge on a bully with the power of her mind—which includes her encyclopedic knowledge from her extensive reading, her logical problem-solving, and her literal telekinesis. Three cheers for this hyperlexic kid with a strong sense of justice who’s misunderstood by her family but loved by the teacher who appreciates her extraordinary mind!

 

Pride and Prejudice

It makes sense that neurodivergent coding would jump out in a social satire, even one from the 1800s. It isn’t much a stretch to take an ADHD interpretation of Lydia or Mrs. Bennet, or an autistic read of Mr. Collins. Of course, though, this is mainly about the one and only Mr. Darcy, the most autistic Eligible Bachelor you’ve ever met. Given the age of the source material, it’s impressive just how many autistic buttons he presses for me, from his difficulty in unfamiliar social situations to his penchant for plain honesty over flattery to his tendency to say the impolite thing while doing the caring thing. So much love! 

 

A Series of Unfortunate Events

I already talked about the Netflix show, which feels so autistic in large part because it’s such an effective adaptation of the books. Oh, how I love Lemony Snicket stopping in the middle of the action to clarify things, define words, or reflect on the illogical nature of an expression. Nearly every character is happily obsessed with a particular subject that they’ve made their life’s pursuit, and I love that the Baudelaires process their emotions in such analytical ways. From the first book, I was utterly taken with this series, and I absolutely knew it was for me.

 

Time Quintet

Oh, Meg and Charles Wallace Murry, my beloveds! Incredibly smart, unable to fit in, willing to accept the impossible. I can totally see the Murry home as a place where it’s safe to be autistic in a hostile world, with only the twins masking reliably. Whereas Calvin might be the lone autistic in his family, high-masking to the point where he’s easily accepted by others, but he comes alive when he meets people like him. I love Meg for her anger, her insecurities, and her obstinate square-peg-in-a-round-hole-ness. These books were so formative for me growing up!

Neurodivergent (Headcanon) Alley: Fitzwilliam Darcy (Pride and Prejudice)

*Darcy-related spoilers.*

Let’s be real. It was only a matter of time until I came around to this one. My Jane Austen journey started with the series of Masterpiece TV movies in 2007 (shoutout to Felicity Jones and Catherine Morland!), which led to all the books and then every single adaptation I could get my hands on. Hello, special interest! I’ve always loved Mr. Darcy as a character, for his complexity and fantastic interactions with Lizzy. I used to hedge a little, feeling a hipsterish need to point out that he wasn’t necessarily my favorite Austen leading man, but let’s put that aside, shall we? It’s Darcy. Over the years, I’ve only grown more attached to the character, in all sorts of incarnations (looking at you, Fire Island!) I’ve long appreciated his introverted characterization, but I’ve more recently come to view him through an autistic lens as well.

As I’ve gone deeper into my own neurodivergent journey, hearing about other folks’ autistic headcanons has really helped me expand my view of what autism can look like, and I now recognize that kinship with plenty of characters that it never would’ve occurred to me to read as autistic. But when I first saw Darcy’s name pop up on someone’s headcanon list, my immediate thought wasn’t, “Whoa, really? Well, now that I think about it….” It was, “Well, that makes total sense.”

Let’s start with Darcy in his own words, shall we? “I certainly have not the talent which some people possess, of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done.” Originally, I read this line as a Big Introverted Mood, but this is also a very autistic framing. Darcy isn’t merely shy or withdrawn. He has difficulty following people’s tone or playing along with social niceties, and despite having observed other people do this successfully, he can’t figure out how to do it himself.

I don’t want to say Darcy isn’t proud, because he definitely can be. But when he’s stiff and awkward at a ball, when he refuses to dance because he doesn’t want to, when he responds flatly to Bingley’s rose-colored impression of the evening, other people take all of that as further proofness of his standoffishness. Most everyone in Meryton thinks Darcy is a snobby dud compared to Bingley, and they take his behavior purely as slights against them, not recognizing that a big portion of it stems from his social discomfort.

However, people who know Darcy well have a very different opinion of him. Bingley is maybe a bit impervious to his friend’s moods, but Darcy is the friend he brings along to Netherfield. They spend a great deal of time together, and as amiable as Bingley is, I don’t think he’d keep dragging Darcy to balls he doesn’t want to go to if they didn’t genuinely get along. And when Lizzy visits Pemberley, Darcy’s housekeeper is full of warm remarks about him and specifically notes that a lot of people have the wrong impression. I’m a person who can struggle in social situations until I really get to know someone (and even then, I’m better one-on-one or in very small groups,) and I know what it’s like to have people assume I’m stuck-up.

Darcy is bluntly honest to his own detriment—especially in this sort of drawing-room polite society, where it’s all about saying things in the “correct” or expected manner. His first proposal to Lizzy is a disaster, and not just because she’s totally blindsided by the fact that she’s into him. No, he bursts in, declaring, “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you,” and then he proceeds to tell Lizzy about how hard he’s tried not to love her, due to her undesirable family connections. And the thing is, he thinks he’s nailing it. Yes, on a class level, it’d be unthinkable for a woman in Lizzy’s position to turn down a man of Darcy’s standing. But from his perspective, he’s also 1) being honest, which is good and 2) telling Lizzy that his love for her is strong enough to overcome his numerous misgivings about her family and status, which he thinks is flattering to her. When Lizzy flatly turns him down, he doesn’t know what to think.

(Side note: much of Darcy’s reluctance toward Lizzy is down to the Bennets’ “inferior” class, and some of it is about the boorish behavior of characters like Mrs. Bennet and Lydia. But it’s also worth mentioning that Mrs. Bennet and Lydia are like a walking sensory overload.)

Fortunately for Darcy, Lizzy clarifies her reasons, and once he understands, he writes her a long letter to add context to everything she’s heard about him. As their relationship continues to shift and deepen, he thinks he can feel that shift but remains wary. The next time he broaches the topic of love, it’s to quietly share, “My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever,” putting the ball in Lizzy’s court. First of all, thank you, gentleman, for respecting a woman’s boundaries. But also, we see how he wants to wait for explicit confirmation that Lizzy feels the same way before he tries proposing again, having misread the situation before.

So yeah, one of the most popular romantic leads of all time can be easily read as autistic, which is pretty cool. Unfortunately, Darcy’s literary swoonworthiness doesn’t really translate to people with those traits in real life, but I still appreciate watching this heartthrob character deal with his socializing struggles and bad first impressions on the way to finding true love.

Favorite Characters: Fitzwilliam Darcy (Pride and Prejudice)

In terms of the ever-important swoonworthiness factor for Austen heroes, Mr. Darcy is solidly in the middle of the pack for me, after Mr. Tilney and Mr. Knightley and roughly on par with Capt. Wentworth (however, since I’m an aromantic asexual, make of that what you will.)  No – for me, where Darcy really succeeds is his complexity as a character.  He wouldn’t wouldn’t be my top pick to doodle hearts around his picture, but his fascinating, richly-flawed character is a treat to read or see onscreen (Darcy-related spoilers.)

Pride and Prejudice is a classic “bad first impression” romance, but the beauty of Darcy is that he’s not really a case of “he’s a total jerk who rehabilitates himself for love” or “she completely gets the wrong idea of him and doesn’t recognize him for the sweetheart he really is.”  Instead, he’s kind of both.  He has that devastatingly-perfect-on-paper air about him, what with the fabulous wealth and tremendous looks, but then he opens his mouth.  And yeah, “good breeding” doesn’t go as far as it used to.  Because he is imperious.  He looks down his nose at the country folks of Hertfordshire, and when he doesn’t find the company up to his standards, he’s super standoffish.  He also has a “thinks he knows best” thing going on and values directness over tact even when he really shouldn’t.

But at the same time, that’s not the whole story.  When he becomes familiar enough with someone to reassess his initial opinion of them, he’s the first to admit if he realizes he was too harsh.  When he then puts his mind to it, he can be wholly welcoming to people of any standing, and not just in a “make nice for appearances” way.  Furthermore, when he falls for Lizzy despite his valiant efforts not to love her (Darcy will be Darcy,) he ultimately places his regard for her over the opinions he knows the snobbier members of his friends and family will have of her.  But in a way, I kind of like it that their difference in situation does bother him and he does “try not to love her” before deciding he cares more about Lizzy than the likes of Lady Catherine.  As a romantic hero, “I love you despite your embarrassing family connections,” is so not the way to Lizzy’s heart, and she rightfully takes him to task for it.  But as a character, it’s more interesting that this is something he wrestles and comes to terms with rather than instantly tossing aside class and custom.  It means his love is more hard-won within himself, not something that came easy.

Also, I like that, while he can be quick to judge those he deems his social inferiors, his rudeness is also informed by his shyness and discomfort among strangers.  It’s something of an Achilles heel for him, and he admits as much to Lizzy.  And here, as with so many things relating to these characters, they’re both right and wrong.  Lizzy laughs at this admission because she can’t really understand it – she herself is enormously winning and almost luminously personable, and so she can’t quite realize how honestly hard it is for Darcy to be at a ball surrounded by people he doesn’t know.  And yet, she definitely has his number when it comes to the simple fact that his feelings don’t excuse his actions.  Being shy isn’t a license for acting above-it-all, and she points out that no skill – from piano-playing to small talk – can be mastered without practice.  (I gravitate more toward “awkward” than “haughty,” Darcy, but still, I’ve been there.)

Favorite Characters: Elizabeth Bennet (Pride and Prejudice)

You absolutely can’t go wrong with Lizzy.  Whether on the page or onscreen, she’s a character that simply dazzles with personality.  She’s completely awesome and decidedly flawed, and there’s no question that I love her to pieces (if you need a spoiler warning for a 200-year-old book, here it is.)

The second-oldest of five daughters living on borrowed time at an entailed-away estate, Lizzy is a curious mix of sentimental and cynical.  She’s well-aware of her family’s situation and lets the air out of Jane’s romantic notions of marrying for love by suggesting to take care she falls in love with a rich man, but she herself can’t seriously entertain the thought of marrying someone she doesn’t love.  She’s sure enough of herself that she doesn’t let Mr. Darcy’s slight of her lie, not being blinded by his wealth and status, but she also tiptoes deftly through appropriate social decorum, for the most part maintaining an ironic civility with him that would be above general reproach.  Similarly, she’s fully cognizant of the bad name her younger sisters and mother stand to give her family and is embarrassed by how they behave in company, especially with their social superiors like Darcy and the Bingleys.

This is partly because of Lizzy’s well-bred manners, but it’s also a question of pride.  Because she isn’t enamored of Darcy or Mr. Bingley’s sisters (again, despite their position,) she can’t bear to think of them looking down their noses at her or her family for any “legitimate” reason.  When they’re dismissive of the Bennets due to their comparatively meager prospects or “undesirable” family connections, it’s easy for Lizzy to write them off as snobs.  But when their disdain is rooted in Mrs. Bennet’s loudmouth gossiping or Kitty and Lydia’s wild behavior, when there’s truth in the idea that members of her family aren’t in step with good society, that’s when Lizzy really can’t stand it, because she doesn’t want even the smallest part of them to be “right.”

It’s also Lizzy’s pride that keeps Darcy out of her good opinion for so long.  No lie – Darcy can, at times, be the worst, especially early in the book – but Lizzy wouldn’t be so entirely against him, so thoroughly prepared to believe the terrible things Mr. Wickham says about him, if he hadn’t wounded her pride at their first meeting.  This is important, because it’s a blind spot of Lizzy’s.  She regards herself as having good judgment, and for the most part, she really does; she’s right on the money with Bingley’s sisters and Lady Catherine, and her sharp insights allow her to really hit Darcy where it hurts.  But when it comes to Darcy (and, in turn, Wickham,) she gets a lot of it wrong.  Again, not to let Darcy off the hook, because he’s not in the right at that first ball, but Lizzy lets her disapproval of him stretch and magnify, just as Wickham’s attentions to her help conceal his shadiness.

It’s to her credit that, when Darcy finally sets the record straight about what went down between him and Wickham, Lizzy spends very little time in denial about it.  When the facts are laid out, she’s able to reason through what Darcy says and the evidence he gives enough to realize he’s almost certainly telling the truth.  It allows her to look back over her interactions with both men and see where her estimations were skewed, and I really like that Lizzy takes this erring to heart in the way that she does.  She’s truly angry with herself, both for getting it wrong in the first place and for the realization that it was her pride getting in the way, and she does some serious self-examination over it.  I enjoy seeing her work through this and come out the other side a stronger character for having confronted her own disappointment with herself.