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!

American Born Chinese (2023-Present)

*Premise spoilers.*

Seeing the trailer for this show made me nervous. Obviously, it was filled with all manner of talented actors, I’m a fan of Destin Daniel Cretton, and it looked like it was going to be good. But it didn’t look like it was going to be American Born Chinese, and that gave me pause. Fortunately, although the series is a very different animal than the graphic novel, it uses its new story to explore much of the same themes.

Jin has a hard enough time finding his place as one of the few Asian American kids at his school; he does not need the principal pairing him up with a kid who’s just arrived from China. But Wei-Chen defies Jin’s expectations in multiple ways. First, while he’s kind of dorky and the polar opposite of the “run-of-the-mill regular guy” persona Jin is trying to cultivate, Wei-Chen is actually much more confident than Jin is—he knows who he is and doesn’t fret over that. Even more significantly, he is in fact the son of the legendary Monkey King, and he's come from Heaven in pursuit of a great quest. And he’s convinced that Jin is the only one who can help him achieve it.

It's the mystical/action side that really veers from the graphic novel, where the Monkey King sections serve as an analogy for Asian Americans who think they have to change who they are to win the approval of white American society. The Monkey King’s story runs parallel to Jin’s (and Danny’s—more on that later,) but they don’t intersect in the same way they do here, where Wei-Chen tries to draw Jin into his epic quest. From the trailer, I feared that this was all the show was going to be, that the coming-of-age and identity themes weren’t going to be nearly as important as the mystical adventure.

The adventure part of the story is definitely there. We have gods and wire fu and prophetic dreams, and there’s a big third-act showdown in the season finale. But crucially, we never drop Jin’s story of struggling to feel comfortable in his own skin. The opportunity to help Wei-Chen on his quest is as cool as anything in the manga Jin grew up reading, but he’s continually distracted from the mission by his desire to get in good with the guys on the soccer team or impress the girl he has a crush on. The mystical elements add plenty of cool action to the show, but they also serve as a vehicle to help Jin work through some of his confusion and figure out who he actually wants to be.

There are also a lot of changes to the Danny story—in fact, that entire plot is basically gone. However, it’s replaced by an ongoing thread that accomplishes the same goal and explores the same theme in a much more grounded way. Instead of bringing in “Chin-Kee,” the embarrassing cousin whose character design is straight out of an old-timey anti-Chinese propaganda poster, we get Freddy Wong. In the show, an old sitcom called Beyond Repair has just hit streaming and is enjoying a resurgence in popularity, and Freddy, the Asian comic-relief character, has become a meme. Cringey scenes from the sitcom seem to follow Jin wherever he goes, and the second half of the season addresses problematic old shows like this head-on.

The cast is topnotch, handling the many different angles of the plot with ease and making it all feel cohesive. Ben Wang is a solid everyman as Jin, an insecure kid who’s aspiring to be basic and isn’t sure about this much greater destiny that’s being rolled out for him. He’s joined by Jimmy Liu as Wei-Chen, who’s equal parts endearingly earnest and convincingly badass. The two boys play off each other beautifully; if the show is given a second season, I’m most looking forward to seeing more of them together.

It’s all the more impressive to see how well these young actors anchor the show given all the powerhouse talent that surrounds them. Daniel Wu (Sunny from Into the Badlands!) is alternately stoic and sly as the Monkey King. I can’t say enough about how much I adore Michelle Yeoh as Guanyin, the goddess of compassion—I didn’t realize I needed Yeoh as a goofy, bubbly goddess auntie in my life, but it turns out I really do! Both her and Wu, naturally, get some choice opportunities to throw down. Ke Huy Quan pitches the Freddy Wong sitcom scenes just right, and he has the chops to navigate the nuance brought to that side of the plot as the season goes on. The series also features appearances from a very game Ronny Chieng and a fabulous Stephanie Hsu, the latter of whom is only in one episode but radiates her character with every pore.

Warnings

Thematic elements, violence, and mild language.

The Fabelmans (2022, PG-13)

We’re up to Best Picture nominee number six with a deeply personal film from Steven Spielberg, inspired by his upbringing and the beginnings of his love affair with filmmaking. I enjoyed the film and it’s clearly well made, but I’ll admit it didn’t really wow me.

At the age of seven, Sammy Fabelman sees his first movie, and his life is transformed. He’s obsessed with the train crash scene from The Greatest Show on Earth, painstakingly recreating it with his model train set and his dad’s camera. As he grows, falling deeper in love with movies and directing, Sammy’s mercurial mother encourages his creativity while his stolid father tries to tamper his love for his “hobby.” Between cross-country moves and bubbling family conflicts, Sammy clings to the pictures as something he can understand and control.

The most winning parts of the film show Sammy’s adventures in moviemaking, from the early home movies he films with his younger sisters to the ambitious projects he directs as a teenager. I really like seeing his ingenuity in creating his DIY special effects, and it’s neat to watch him grow in his knowledge of filming and editing techniques. Whenever he and his friends go to the movies, his friends are entertained as they alternately watch and joke around, but Sammy is captivated, the wheels in his head turning fast as he tries to imagine how he could create his own picture in whatever genre they’re watching, from war epics to cowboy flicks.

The family drama is a little less compelling to me. I’m not sure what it is—maybe the “been there, done that” conflict between the practical-minded dad and the artistic son, maybe the scenery chewing in Michelle Williams’ performance as Sammy’s mother—but whatever the reason, it doesn’t quite hold my attention like the filmmaking scenes do. This is where the movie really feels its length, and at two-and-a-half hours, I got antsy more than once.

Like I said, this is Steven Spielberg’s semi-autobiographical passion project, and he’s nominated for both his direction and his original screenplay, co-written with Tony Kushner. At times, this personal aspect can make the film feel tactile and intimate as we watch scenarios too specific and implausible to be made up. But at others, I think it hurts the narrative a little, and we go down rabbit holes chasing memories rather than follow a clear plot direction.

There are plenty of fine performances on display here. Mateo Zoryan and Gabriel LaBelle both turn in nice work as Sammy, Zoryan delightful in Sammy’s young years while LaBelle takes on the heavy lifting in his teenage era. Paul Dano is nicely understated as Sammy’s serious father Burt, while Seth Rogen nails the “goofy” characterization of non-related Uncle Bennie. Like I said, Michelle Williams doesn’t fully work for me as Sammy’s mother Mitzi, and I came away a little surprised that she got a Best Leading Actress nod. To me, her performance feels overwrought—that said, I know how talented both she and Spielberg are, so I would imagine the effect we see is definitely what they were going for. Also nominated, for Best Supporting Actor, is Judd Hirsch, who makes a small but memorable appearance as Mitzi’s Uncle Boris.

Warnings

Language (including antisemitic slurs,) brief violence, mild sexual content, drinking/smoking/brief drug use, and thematic elements (including antisemitism.)