I finally got around to reading Mark Haddon’s phenomenally successful little book about a boy with Asperger’s Syndrome. I’d skimmed it in a book shop, and decided I probably wouldn’t like it, because the treatment of Asperger’s seemed a little condescending, and in general the prose an easy way to be excused of sloppy writing. But I was wrong, and the book was an enjoyable diversion, certainly worth reading.
Christopher Boone is a young boy who likes mathematics but dislikes being touched, jokes (because they don’t make sense), metaphors and the colours yellow and brown. When he finds his neighbour’s dog dead in her garden, he decides that in imitation of his hero, Sherlock Holmes, he will do some detective work and get to the bottom of the crime.
I don’t have any particular problems with Haddon’s treatment of Asperger’s. From knowing Graham Arding (Nikky’s brother, who, while not diagnosed with Asperger’s or autism, displayed most of the symptoms) and the people around him, I have an inkling of what it is like to have these mental problems, and really do sympathise. I’ve never encountered anyone quite like Christopher, but then, that doesn’t mean there aren’t people like him. The treatment was not sensationalised, and while the condition defined Christopher’s entire personality, that was in no way a total misrepresentation – though I did think the central character would be far more interesting if he actually had a personality outside his symptoms. I enjoyed Christopher’s writing, and his digressions, but it was the other characters who made the book a good read.
Christopher’s father’s long, heartfelt speech around halfway through the book was the best-written dialogue I have seen in any book I have ever read. It was excellently done. The relationship between his parents and the horrible things each of them do out of desperation are always utterly human; they are not surprising, which is why they work well in the broad and simple plot, but they raise difficult moral questions as to which of them was right to do what they did, if either of them. That was the thing I enjoyed the most.
The story was simple, obvious, but each successive step was taken with just the right indications of the emotional lives of those around Christopher, without his ever being aware of those emotions. The way the effect Christopher’s condition had on his parents was translated without his own understanding of it was really quite impressive.
There were one or two niggling inaccuracies that can only have been author’s blunders, like the underground gate in the wonderfully familiar evocation of Paddington Station opening before the ticket was taken, and the phone number on the letters having the wrong area code (the letters were from 1997 so the area code should have been 0181, not 0208), but these are petty things. I question Christopher’s science in places, but they are only the things he has been told.
It’s true that anyone could have written the book, and a million variations on the theme would have been equally entertaining. It’s a great book for children, a moment’s diversion, and while it’s not going to stay with me forever, or ever be on my list of favourite books, I’m glad I read it.
Oh, and something that made me smile – Christopher’s best time on Minesweeper, expert mode, is the same as my own: 99 seconds!
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