Bizzy's Reviews > Boyfriend Goals

I’m deeply troubled by the autism representation in this book and how it reflects a broader trend in romance.

Edited May 11, 2022 in response to edits made by the author after publication.

Authors should listen to the autistic community when deciding how to refer to us

Milo is autistic. Finding someone who accepts him for who he is, including his autistic traits, is his primary character arc in this book. Gideon’s primary arc is about learning to trust that Milo will assert his needs and boundaries and does not need others to decide for him what he’s capable of.

However, even though Milo’s autistic traits are the focus of the story, the words “autism” and “autistic” did not appear in the initially published version of this book. The word “neurodivergent” was used three times, and “on the spectrum” was used once. The blurb says only that he’s “unusual” and “quirky.” “Quirky” is also the only term applied to a relative of Milo’s who we’re meant to presume was also autistic.

The book has apparently been edited after publication to change one of the mentions of “neurodivergent” to “autistic” and “on the spectrum” to “on the autism spectrum.” (I asked friends to confirm the terminology changes after being informed of them.I have tried to get an updated version of the book from Amazon but am only able to download the version I previously had, and Amazon won’t give me the option to download an updated file, so at this time I’m unable to confirm whether any other changes were made to the book.)

I have to assume these changes were made in response to this review and others in which autistic readers stated that the decision not to use the words “autism” or “autistic” in this book was erasure. While I’m glad the author has made these changes to the book, they don’t fully address my concerns. They do not change my opinion that decisions about terminology in this book were made to prioritize allistic people’s comfort at the expense of the autistic community.

Neurodivergent is not a synonym for autism. “Neurodivergent” is an umbrella term for any “differing in mental or neurological function from what is considered typical or normal” and covers, at a minimum, autism, ADHD, and learning disabilities. When referring to other people, the term is properly used to refer to: (a) a person whose specific diagnosis is not known or undisclosed, (b) a group of people with unknown or varied diagnoses, or (c) a person who has specifically asked to be referred to this way.

The choice to publish the book initially without using the words “autism” or “autistic” indicates discomfort with those words and a preference for euphemisms. The choice to omit even the word “neurodivergent” from the blub, in favor of “unusual” and “quirky,” is especially telling. (The blurb has not been changed.) Not only does it indicate a reluctance to even mention that the presence of a neurodivergent main character, despite this being the key focus of the book, it’s also a pet peeve in the autism community to call us “quirky,” so the blurb not only erases Milo’s identity but uses a particularly annoying euphemism for it instead. Allistic people often use euphemisms to refer to so-called high-functioning autistics because they think the autism spectrum is a straight line from “a little quirky” to “tragic autism” and want to avoid all the stigma and baggage that goes along with public perception of the “bad” end of the spectrum.[1] But the problem isn’t the label, it’s how autistic people are treated because of our autistic traits. Our neurology is the same whether you give us a “nice” label or not, and any difficulties caused by our traits exist no matter how we’re labeled.

Allistic people constantly argue that autistic people should use different terminology to refer to ourselves because they believe that avoiding the autism label means avoiding the stigma. As a person who was not diagnosed with autism until well into adulthood, and who has spoken to and read the accounts of many autistic people in the same situation, I can tell you definitively that this idea is wrong. The label is stigmatized because of its association with stigmatized traits, not the other way around. I have known since I was in elementary school that I am different and have been treated differently for having autistic traits my whole life. Not having a label didn’t protect me from stigma, but it did isolate me, deprive me of a framework for self-understanding, and prevent me from accessing community and seeking accommodations. For most of my life, the only explanation I had for my obvious differences was, “something is wrong with me; I’m defective.” Learning that I’m autistic is one of the best things that has ever happened to me because I now have another explanation and access to community and resources I never had before. There are so many accounts in the autistic community of the massive, irreparable harm that has been done to us by denying us the label.[2]

Allistic people do not like the stigma and don’t want it applied to their friends, family, and other people they like, so they think the solution is to use other words that aren’t stigmatized. But until the stigma around autistic traits is addressed, the problem will not be solved. The stigma will eventually transfer to those other words, too. And in the meantime, the stigma around the words “autism” and “autistic” will only increase because people are accepting the stigma, not challenging it, by switching to other words.

This book is a prime example. How did publishing the initial version of the book without the words “autism” or “autistic” advance awareness or acceptance of autism? It prevented some readers from even realizing they were reading about an autistic character, and reinforced for others that autism is a bad word and “better” words should be used instead. Even now, the book hardly embraces Milo’s autistic identity; the words “autism” and “autistic” don’t appear until 77% and 95% into the book, respectively, and the majority of references are still to “neurodivergence.” This book is still accepting the stigma around the word autism instead of confronting it. Moreover, it remains clear that the author didn’t engage with the autistic community before writing to learn how we prefer to be labeled.

[1] I would love for you to read the Neuroclastic article “‘Autism Is a Spectrum’ Doesn’t Mean What You Think” for more on these concepts.

[2] Of course, the decision of any autistic person (or parents of an autistic child too young to decide for themselves) whether to disclose their diagnosis in specific situations is complicated. There are situations where disclosure is potentially harmful. Plenty of autistic people also choose to identify as neurodivergent, and I do not mean to erase or invalidate that. My review is intended to address the specific situation of an allistic person choosing a label for autistic people and the autistic community generally, out of a misguided sense of helpfulness.

Milo’s autistic traits

May 11, 2022 note: From this point forward, this review is the same as it was when I originally posted it. If the author has made any changes to the book besides the two terminology changes noted above, I currently have no way to know.

Here are the traits we’re told Milo has:

* He likes rules, structure, and routine. We’re also told that being impulsive makes everything “too overwhelming” for him.

* He has some issues with social awareness, including sometimes having difficulty with sarcasm, having difficulty “reading people,” and a “habit of always being honest” and saying “whatever words flit through his head.” He is aware that other people often think he’s weird, but he has trouble understanding why.

* He has some sensory processing issues, including difficulty being around loud people (though other loud noises are fine), difficulty sleeping in a new place due to unfamiliar sensory inputs, doesn’t like wearing pants at home, doesn’t like the feeling of liquids or fluids touching him, and doesn’t always like to be touched if he doesn’t know beforehand.

* We’re told he often sees things in black and white, but no specific examples are given.

* We’re told he can “flip the switch” between conversational topics “when he want[s] to,” but at other times “hyperfocuse[s] on things,” but his hyperfocus is never shown in the book.

* He is presumably of above-average intelligence because he started college at age sixteen.

* He doesn’t drive because it “stresses [him] out.”

* He doesn’t like elevators for unexplained reasons.

This is a pretty standard list of traits for an autistic character to have in romance (except the elevator thing), and is actually more comprehensive than you’d get in a lot of romances, especially ones where the autistic character is coded as autistic but never labeled – those are often limited to differences in social awareness. As a starting point for developing an autistic character, I don’t really have a problem with this list, other than the fact it’s a pretty stereotypical presentation of “high-functioning” autism and that some of the traits are mentioned in the book but never actually shown.

The problem arises when we consider how these traits are portrayed.

First, all of these traits are carefully written to be easily acceptable by Gideon and other allistic people in the story. We’re told that Milo doesn’t deal well with change because he finds it overwhelming, but he uproots his entire life without even one sentence about how the experience is overwhelming for him. He decides he wants to do it, so he does, and it apparently doesn’t bother him at all. We’re told that he has routines, but aside from eating the same (very normal) breakfast on Mondays and wanting all groceries to be written on the whiteboard immediately, we don’t see any. His rigidity and need for routine never affect any plans the characters make in the book; he’s able to just go with the flow whenever necessary, and none of his routines are disruptive or difficult for Gideon to adapt to. We’re told that he doesn’t like to be touched when he doesn’t know it’s coming, but Gideon does this constantly and it never bothers Milo. He didn’t think he’d like cuddling because “my space meant too much to me” but cuddling Gideon is fine. He has a hard time reading people, but he can immediately tell if Gideon is being sarcastic and eventually says, “I recognized so many of Gideon’s tells now, the little things unique to him, like how to tell when he was kidding or what each of his smiles meant.” Similarly, he has no trouble reading his mom. We’re told that he has sensitivity to noise, and he carries earplugs around with him often, but we never see him use them. The only thing we see him actually struggling with, loud groups of people, can be easily avoided and is an uncommon occurrence in his and Gideon’s lives.

Consequently, Milo’s autism is easy for Gideon to accept. His most difficult trait (in the book’s estimation, anyway) is his bluntness, but Gideon loves that immediately. Milo’s routines barely exist, his touch aversion magically disappears for Gideon, his difficulty reading people doesn’t apply to Gideon, and his sensory issues are all easily accommodated. This combination of convenient exceptions is implausible, to say the least.

Milo represents the myth that there’s a linear spectrum of functioning and being “high-functioning” means you’re basically just a typical person but with some quirks that might annoy other people from time to time. This myth doesn’t account for the “high-functioning” person with severe social awareness differences (or the “low-functioning” person whose aren’t), or severe sensory processing issues, or significant executive functioning differences, or who bears a significant mental health burden in exchange for being able to mask their autistic traits, or the many other ways the myth is incorrect.

Second, the book isn’t interested in where Milo’s traits fit in the broader autism spectrum, why his traits occur and how they’re interrelated, or what it’s like to have any of them. The only concern is showing what other people, especially his allistic love interest Gideon, think of them.

For example, one of his most developed traits is that he doesn’t like wearing pants at home. Why? Who knows! Preferring not to wear certain articles of clothing is pretty common among autistic people, but it’s usually because of sensory processing issues. Many autistic people get too much sensory input from certain things, and our brains don’t tune out irrelevant background sensations the way the typical brain can. I can’t wear certain cuts and fabrics because they are uncomfortable in a way that my brain won’t stop telling me about, no matter what I’m doing, and the discomfort and awareness only grows over time, to the point that the sensation is distracting and affects my concentration. Certain fabrics cause immediate and intense discomfort that does not subside. An autistic person who chooses to take their pants off as soon as they’re in a sufficiently private space is probably experiencing similar issues. In this book, though, no explanation is given and it’s presented as simply a preference, rather than something necessary for Milo to feel comfortable. His other sensory issues are presented in a similar way – simply as things he doesn’t like, rather than sensory inputs his brain processes in a non-typical way.

Similarly, the presentation of Milo’s social awareness differences lacks nuance and shows no understanding of what the experience is like for an autistic person. Milo is given the (extremely stereotypical) traits of being “honest” and literal, which means he says everything he thinks as he thinks it, even if it’s not polite. The social norms we see him violate are ones that are obvious and relatively black and white. Milo frequently recognizes that specific things he wants to say may not be socially acceptable, and then he either decides not to say them because he doesn’t want to offend the person he’s talking to, or decides to say it because “I wasn’t always good at listening to those thoughts reminding me how I should act or react. Most of the time, I just did what felt right.” Sometimes he says something and realizes immediately afterwards that it might be rude.

This appears to be what most allistic people think it means to be autistic: we knowingly say rude things to people because we don’t care about being rude. I’m not going to say that no autistic person ever does that, but for many (maybe even most?) of us, the experience is very different. And even to the extent that autistic people are choosing to violate social norms on purpose, the surface-level presentation in this book and others doesn’t capture the details.

Social awareness differences happen because autistic brains process information, including social norms, differently from allistic brains. To give one example of a common autistic experience (based on discussions I’ve had with other autistic people and what I’ve seen reflected in autistic spaces online) that I’ve personally experienced:

I want to have as much information as I can about things and how and why they work. It’s also important to me to give accurate and complete information to others. Making an unequivocal statement when I know there might be an exception feels like lying. Thus, when people ask me questions, I tend to give very thorough answers, and I often preemptively acknowledge opposing arguments or differences in opinion. I’ve had to learn over time that while this level of detail is sometimes fine, other times it’s seen as awkward, rude, patronizing, etc. Giving too little detail is also sometimes perceived poorly. There’s no concrete rule for how much detail to give when answering a question; it varies based on the context, the person, the relationship, and so on, meaning I often have to guess what level of detail is appropriate and wanted. But guessing is hard because the “right” answer doesn’t innately make sense or feel correct to me. I have to consciously sift through my mental rules and ignore my own instincts in order to converse “properly” with others and not be seen as rude.

I’m offering this example to show that social awareness differences occur for complicated, nuanced reasons. My point is not that every autistic person experiences the same things, or that all depictions of autistic characters must look like this. But a portrayal that starts and ends with “I’m rude because I don't care” is incomplete and inauthentic. It is so incurious about the autistic experience that it doesn’t even recognize there could be a reason for social awareness differences other than not caring about social norms. This stereotypical portrayal doesn’t acknowledge the possibility of being unable to identify social norms in the first place, or being uncertain whether they’ve been broken. Characters like Milo lack an authentic inner narrative because they reflect an allistic person’s sense of social norms and how they work.

Finally, the way other people respond to Milo is othering and patronizing. Any time Milo says something that Gideon doesn’t think a typical person would say, Gideon thinks or comments about how great it is. “He was refreshing. . . . I never knew what to expect, and everything was so damn pure with him.” Milo’s friend Rachel does this too, randomly hugging him more than once after Milo says something blunt.

Who wants their differences to be constantly pointed out, even in a good way? That’s not acceptance, that’s still noticing that the person is different and treating them differently for it. It’s like if you had a friend from another country and every time they said or did something that reflected their cultural norms you said, “I just love how exotic and non-American you are!”

Gideon also says, “The truth was, Milo was different, and I could see that, but that didn’t make him weird or wrong. I didn’t know if he had any kind of diagnosis, and honestly, I didn’t care.” In other words, “I don’t care if Milo’s differences are due to a diagnosis.” That’s not the accepting message it’s supposed to be. It’s saying that having a diagnosis is bad but magnanimously deciding not to be bothered by it. It’s not a surprising message from an author who thinks that the word “autism” is bad – of course she thinks it’s great to have someone say, “I don’t care if you have an autism diagnosis” like it’s a favor – but it still sucks.

(continued in the comments)