The Beginning of Everything by Robyn Schneider

The Beginning of Everything, Robyn Schneider. New York: HarperCollins Publishers/ Katherine Tegen Books, 2013. e-book, 263 pps. including preview of another book.

Ezra Faulker was one of the cool kids in his high school. He was a tennis champ and therefore a higher-order jock. The crowd he hung around with didn't include his former childhood friends, including his former best buddy Toby.

But alas, there was a bad car accident. Ezra wound up hurt badly and was still attending physical therapy sessions and occasional trauma sessions with a trauma shrink of sorts. So high school has changed. The jocks and Ezra inhabit two different parts of the world now. Even the last girlfriend wound up with a different fellow-- one of his jock buddies.

Through a series of mishaps and coincidences [Yes folks, there really are coincidences], Ezra was thrown back into Toby's orbit and onto the debate team. The new girl by name of Cassidy also was added to the debate team roles. She didn't want this.

And some other stuff happened.

sapphoq reviews says: Robyn Schneider did a fantastic job of depicting the various cliques and factions in a typical American high school. Description of various neighborhoods in the area also seemed to be realistic to me. Toby's seventh grade event was grossly enjoyable. The Beginning of Everything depicts a high school boy who must find new reasons for being. I liked the book. Recommended.

There is some teen sex and groping, under-aged drinking, unsupervised parties, and a sort of suicide. Parents who object to these things may not want their teens reading this book.

Until Tuesday, by Luis Carlos Montalvan

Until Tuesday: A Wounded Warrior and the Golden Retriever Who Saved Him, Luis Carlos Montalvan.  New York: Hyperion: 2011.  e-book, 234 pps.

Luis Carlos Montalvan has written a fine book about his relationship with his service dog Tuesday.  Montalvan was injured in Iraq.  He suffered a brain injury there, but not knowing any better-- neither did the medical doctors sad to say-- he went back.  Having acquired a hellish case of post-traumatic stress disorder along with a fractured back, he returned stateside.  He wasn't doing so well.

Tuesday was a young golden retriever.  He suffered a few setbacks during his training.  He also had/has a goofy sense of humor and refused to heel properly.

Montalvan traveled to Tuesday's training center with three other disabled vets.  And he took Tuesday back to New York City with him.

At first, Montalvan continued to have difficulty navigating the world outside of his apartment.  He began an emotional investment with Tuesday.  That and switching his care from one V.A. to another one helped him to stabilize mentally and to progress.  And progress Montalvan did.  During the book, he went back to school and also realized a lifelong dream. 

Montalvan was forced to advocate for himself as a disabled vet who had a service dog which was a necessity rather than just a regular sort of dog.  Even so, he suffered from inexcusably rude behavior and was denied entry in some places.  He gradually began to fight back and acquired a large bundle of e-mails.  The e-mails show that discrimination against service animals definitely still exists.

sapphoq reviews says:  The book Until Tuesday held my interest.  I was able to identify with Montalvan.  Although I had never been in a combat zone, a few of his t.b.i.-related difficulties are similar to mine.  Until Tuesday was an easy read, enjoyable and fascinating.  Recommended for all who like animals, care about service animals and their human partners, or love a disabled vet.    

The Speed of Dark by Elizabeth Moon

The Speed of Dark, Elizabeth Moon.  New York: Ballentine Books, 2003.  e-book  312 pps.

Right on the heels of the news that the D.S.M. shrinks have axed Asperger's-- preferring to lump everyone together now under the broad spectrum of autism or autistic-like disorders (sigh)-- came talk about The Speed of Dark.  I was annoyed.  I was and am annoyed at the unknown shrinks.  I was and am annoyed at the bookstores where I go at least once a week for between one and five hours at a time for not stocking this particular book.  I love Elizabeth Moon's Paks series, liked much of her sci fi, but somehow The Speed of Dark escaped my notice.  Apparently it escaped the notice of the buyers for the bookstores too.  Grrrr.  Had this book been anywhere in the bookstores that I frequent, I would have known it.  I practically live in those bookstores.  If not for the marvels of the Internet, specifically a Twitter(tm) feed-- and Twitter is cool except when Twitter does things like ban AnonOpsSweden which is basically a newsreel from a cold place where I hope some of my relatives are doing more than drinking hot cocoa with the reindeer.  That is to say, I hope that some of my unknown relatives are radical, or at the very least doing stuff to change some of the crap in the world.

So, rather belatedly, I got to read The Speed of Dark.  And I found it good.  Actually, I found it excellent.  Truthfully, I don't bother to write too many reviews of books that I've hated.  That is why most of the books I review on here are books that I like or love.  The Speed of Dark falls into the category of love.  The main character in this book by the name of Lou is an Aspergian who, along with the rest of his unit in the company that he works for, is able to work exceptionally well at his job of "finding patterns."  The work crew have special parking spaces, a gym with trampoline and music, and a few other consessions so that way they can work.  Some folks are pissed about that.  There is also a fencing group that Lou belongs to.  A jealous normie man and an attractive woman.  And a young disabled woman from a Center who is pissed off that Lou hangs out with "normies."  All of these people and places and attitudes congeal to deliver a punch ending.

sapphoq reviews says:  The narratives and the dialogues throughout the book were highly realistic.  The Speed of Dark is well worth a read.  Fans of Elizabeth Moon are sure to like Lou.  Folks who like light science fiction or a peak into a not-too-distant future are sure to enjoy.



"...we (meaning society in its judgmental role) create aliens from humans by excluding them, by defining them as too strange, too difficult...Cultures have defined other races, religions, nationalities, and even economic groups as "not really human" and thus outside the rules that govern behavior in the group.  And we've done it with disabilities.  Sometimes the disabled are treated as children (We know what's best for you . . . ) and sometimes as monsters who must be confined or even killed."
                                                       Elizabeth Moon, from an interview towards the back of the book

The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat, by Oliver Sacks

Oliver Sacks, The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat. New York: Harper & Row, 1970. paperback, 243 pps., incl. biography.

Dear Oliver Sacks,

You are the person I would most like to have tea with on a calm uncluttered California afternoon sitting on your veranda sharing the silence that embraces both of us. You are my hero. You remind me intensely of my humanity-- my intense unwavering humanity-- in the midst of dealing with the professional robots who would rather work to reduce me to deficits and lapses that they can pigeon-hole into stereotypes. I suppose that dealing with the authentic self that is me and more than me is riskier. I am not at all gracious nor grateful for their "help." I have lived quite well over the past six and a half years without their "insight, wisdom, knowledge." For like you, I have learned and relearned that the clinical without the human being is dead, empty stuff. I am weary of these professional robots who cannot hear me when I tell them that my brain damage did not kill off my memory. My memory ranked in the 99th percentile when tested at the rehab hospital six months after my motor vehicle accident. My ability to multi-task has bit the dust, my vision and perception are somewhat skewed, and I've been told that I am now highly distractible. But my memory is intact and I do not need the professional robots to extoll the virtues of writing things down nor of following a written checklist.

Oliver, if I can be so brazen as to refer to you by your first name in this blog post, you declared to the world in this book that the oft-cited axiom that the brain-damaged have only the concrete at their [our] disposal simply is not true. I needed the concrete during the first several months of living with my rearranged brain. I had to teach myself to write in sentences again-- I did this through the internet-- and when I was able to read, I turned to factual books rather than the fantasies that I previously had enjoyed. But brains do heal somewhat and after a time I was able to revel in the abstract once again. You have taught me to focus and build on my strengths rather than to batter away at my difficulties which in fact may not be ameliorable. Oliver, I am so sick of people blindly repeating the phrase, "The brain re-wires itself!" They don't really know what they are talking about, do they? Some of my wires re-connected but not to where they were originally. Dirt roads replaced freeways. Others grew but didn't connect anywhere, thus my central nervous system tremor is one of the prices of recovery. I have named my post-head injury brain Briella. Briella-- still brilliant but a bit sideways. Now I can describe who I used to be in halting unsure words. For a time, I could not even do that. I had to learn my self over again. You remind me not to leave my self behind. For indeed, we are more than our pathologies, labels, problems, diagnoses. So much more!

When I re-read this book, I found again a reunion with friends. I could love Rebecca and Mr. MacGregor and the others. I touched them through your pages. I held my breath as I witnessed Madeleine J. reaching for a bagel. I watched transfigured as she sketched and then made models of what she perceived through her treasured hands, once thought of as "lumps." I was there in your office as you helped Dr. P. put on his shoe. How fortunate your patients are to have had you! I recognized bits of my own difficulties in some of their stories.

Thank you, Oliver Sacks for writing about your patients in such a humane accessible way. My world is a brighter, kinder place with you in it. I take my tea with a bit of lemon sometimes, but no milk or sugar or honey. I'll be up sometime after lunch. Looking forward to it!

sapphoq reviews books n more