My oldest son is in the third grade. When I first started blogging about him, his diagnosis, and our search to find a positive educational environment for him, I called him "the Cat." This nickname came about rather naturally: he loves to pretend to be a cat. Of course, as he's gotten older, the meows are much less frequent; however, as a preschooler, his cat-persona was a comfortable existence for him. (As an interesting aside, there is a book entitled All Cats Have Asperger Syndrome, the premise of which makes me simultaneously nod in agreement and laugh.)

Of course, people's perceptions about autism come in the form of movies like Rainman, which uses the concept of an "idiot savant" in a rather clumsy fashion, or the horrid portrayal of Asperger's on the prime-time drama Grey's Anatomy. But fortunately, many people also recognize the name Temple Grandin. This is reassuring, because although she doesn't "look" like everyone on the spectrum, she provides an example of a highly intelligent person (she has a Ph.D) who is respected. She makes an appearance in The Horse Boy, which I'll discuss a bit later. She's written many books; one of them entitled The Way I See It: A Personal Look at Autism and Asperger's, which together with John Elder Robison's Look Me in the Eye can provide the interested party with two different, fabulous people's stories, showing that people on the spectrum are indeed fully capable, and with their own distinct personalities. (John Elder Robison says "Woof!" while my son says "Meow!" interesting...) But what Temple Grandin is most known for is her work in animal science. She understands animals, just as the young subjects of Cowboy and Wills and The Horse Boy do.

It would take me more than just this lengthy post to explain my theories on why someone on the spectrum might feel more comfortable around animals, but suffice to say that I definitely see it in my son, and being a "quirky kid" myself, I can understand my own deep empathy for animals.

Of course, I'd hate for the link between being on the autistic spectrum and being tuned into animals to be twisted in such a way to indicate that those on the spectrum are "primitive." It is more about sensory, observational, and non-verbal communication. Animals use "whole-body" communication; I can relate to that, and can understand how this is a benefit for those on the spectrum, especially if understanding facial features, language quirks, and intonation is a challenge.

Since I've already been fascinated by the animals-autism angle, I gleefully agreed to review Cowboy and Wills, a fabulous book available now, and to receive a screener copy of the independent lens film The Horse Boy, which will air on Tuesday, May 11th, at 10pm (but of course check your local PBS listings!)

Cowboy and Wills

One of the first things we learn about Wills is that he loves stripes. I had to laugh, because I have quite an affinity for plaid. My son adores solid green. We all have our preferred patterns.

As I read Cowboy and Wills I saw myself in Wills' mother, the author, Monica Holloway. I share her need to feel accepted and her desire to keep the house spotless, lest someone judge her for her physical space matching the clutter and uncertainty of her emotional space. I get it. I can definitely relate to wanting to fit in, and being worried about what people think of my child's behavior; and therefore, what they think of me as a mother.

Holloway is a superb storyteller. She is honest. She doesn't yelp "poor me," but acknowledges fears, difficulties, and frustrations in her tale. She weaves such positive descriptions of her son that "autism" isn't portrayed as that dark hole of despair that the media typically describes. Sure, the emotional impact of the moment of diagnosis, the various bureaucratic hoops that require painful contortions to clear, and the shocks in the financial, social, and psychological realms are brutal at times. But, our kids are not horrible burdens, terrible mistakes, or without amazingly positive characteristics. Holloway illustrates this well; Wills is indeed extraordinary, in both fascinating and frustrating ways.

This book is not a downer, nor a sickly-sweet sappy narrative. Cowboy and Wills is an enjoyable ride.

I appreciated the descriptions of situational quirks, which shows autism is not an "all" or "none" condition. For example, Wills tolerates loud noises if they belong to airplanes - the object of his affection. Likewise, Wills understands empathy as it relates to his golden retriever, Cowboy. While ordinarily he would shriek and run away from adult strangers, or at the least avoid interaction with others, he's perfectly happy to introduce his dog to adults, or to talk to a group of kids about his hamster.

Holloway provides several unique and helpful descriptions. She hit the nail on the head with the following: "He looked like a kid having a tantrum instead of someone too traumatized to calm down." After all, even "experts" call meltdown behavior "tantruming" as if it is a willful disobedience rather than extreme fear. It definitely changes the perception of the child's actions to consider the situation a trauma.

Cowboy and Wills is laugh out-loud funny at parts, such as Holloway admitting that "I cruised Petcos the way drunks frequent bars." I won't quote any more here for fear of ruining it for the future reader, but trust me that there is a strong comedic streak throughout this narrative.

There are definitely a couple "too close to home" moments in the book, such as a room mother wondering "What is WRONG with your son?" before remarking "Maybe he doesn't get enough love at home." I've had plenty of disapproval from fellow parents and strangers, so reliving some of the rejection was tough, but the majority of the book is a run read.

Holloway relates Wills' coping strategies to animal behavior. For example, he gets to his classroom early to "acclimate like a fish adapting to a new aquarium." It all makes sense when put in these terms. All too often, the right course of action for someone on the spectrum is figuring out these sorts of things. A full noisy classroom is too much of a shock, but the slower acclimation works well. Rather than forcing Wills to enter the classroom at full-sensory-assault, the "sacrifice" of arriving a few minutes early reaps tremendous benefits. There are many situations in school and life that can be tweaked just a little bit to create the right atmosphere for someone on the spectrum.

Of course the best part of the book is watching Wills and Cowboy's bond develop. Even before Cowboy arrives, my heart melts as Wills explains, "I'm putting my smell in here, so she'll feel safe," as he crouched in her kennel in preparation for her arrival. With that action and statement, he shows that being on the autistic spectrum does not mean being devoid of understanding of others' needs. Of course, this was just the beginning of how Wills took Cowboy's needs into consideration. He also used Cowboy - and his other animals - as his "voice" in some ways, explaining why an animal might feel afraid, which essentially meant that he was afraid.

I was pleasantly surprised at how much I adored the story of Cowboy & Wills. I recommend it highly. It might be a great book to slip to someone who doesn't quite "get" autism, but under the guise of a fun book about a kid and his dog. After all, the story really is more than just "autism," but can certainly educate in the process.

The Horse Boy

While books can do their best to describe what happens, film shows what is actually happening. In this documentary following Rowan Isaacson, the viewer sees when Rowan is having a meltdown, is frightened, and tense. The viewer also sees Rowan visibly relax around horses, or as he later plays with another child in what appears to be a completely neurotypical way. One of the hardest concepts to explain to a person unfamiliar with the autistic spectrum is how a child can look completely "normal" one moment and completely "affected" (or even "disabled") the next.

Seeing is believing, and that is definitely true here. For someone unfamiliar with autism or skeptical of Rowan's progress, they only need to see what happens on the screen to get an idea of Rowan's family's reality.

In a nutshell, The Horse Boy follows Rowan's family as they take him on a journey - some on horseback, but not exclusively - through Mongolia to visit a variety of shamans in attempt to "heal" him. Despite the film's title, this is not exactly a story of the relationship that Rowan has with horses, although there are parts that definitely allude to that partnership.

I admit that there were parts of this film that were difficult for me to watch. It was frustrating to see Rowan scared at times, and there were definitely moments when it seemed "obvious" to me as the viewer what a better course of action would be. For example during one scene, Rowan insisted, "Swinging! We need to swing!" He really wanted the soothing sensory experience of rocking back and forth, but his parents instead forced him towards a lake that was meant to have healing properties. I have definitely been at the other end of judgment, so recognize that his parents were doing what they believed was right for him, and that while this is an intimate look into their journey, the viewer still does not know all. (For example, it may have been that Rowan had already spent a half hour on the swing, but it wasn't part of what ended up in the documentary.)

The film opens with an introduction to Rowan, along with some clips of "experts" - including Temple Grandin - explaining some "facts" about the autistic spectrum. Most of what these people said was helpful; for example, explaining that autism is indeed a spectrum, so it is unproductive to assume a profound level of disability or some sort of savant-like "ability." However, one researcher spoke of "mental retardation" which isn't accurate; the autistic brain is actually too fast! In many cases, the onslaught of stimuli might cause a shut-down, but it isn't mental retardation in the stereotypical way. A non-verbal person is not "stupid" as many believe. (After all, there are other ways to communicate other than using standard oral - or even written - language.)

My favorite part of the opening of this film was to see the juxtaposition of Rowan's panicked tantrums with the whole-body relaxation he experiences on horseback. The film depicted Rowan stretched out over the horse in the midst of complete trust and bliss.

It was this amazing deep relaxation that led Rowan's dad to wonder if Mongolia - a place that reveres horses - might find a key for his son.

The resulting journey is honest, awe-inspiring, and educational. Of course, most autism families aren't going to set out to Mongolia for shaman healing, but seeking alternative treatment, looking in abstract ways to approach a non-textbook child is something that all families can do. I admit that finding the right way to connect with a child's strengths can be a real challenge. What works for Rowan won't necessarily work for another child.

Rowan's story is really fascinating. I was especially nodding as his parents explained that as a four year-old he categorized his toy animals in a sophisticated way unlike most four year-olds. And towards the end of the film, I learned that it is typically those with mental quirks who become shamans. This interesting twist made me really think about how we in the United States treat those who are not "neurotypical."

Not surprisingly - since this is real life - the trip across Mongolia was not quite as idyllic as Rowan's family had anticipated. There are surprising setbacks and frustrations, but of course moments of awe with unexpected results.

The Horse Boy is sixty minutes, which is a quick, easily-digestible chunk. It is definitely entertainment, but is also a way to open people's eyes to new ways of looking at things. Indeed, this is useful, as essentially autism is a form of diversity, and many on the spectrum see the world differently than those considered "neurotypical." It is definitely not the stereotypical "autism movie," and is enjoyable for anyone, not just those interested in the autistic spectrum. (In fact, it is those not knowledgeable about the spectrum that will get the most out of it.)

Check local listings for exact details; The Horse Boy is scheduled to air at 10pm on Tuesday, May 11th.

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There you have it, my "contribution" to Autism Awareness Month. Just be "aware" that everyone is different. Each family finds its own ways of coping and creating, and we're all just doing the best we can for our kids, regardless of our exact methods. For those of us quirky adults, we're just trying to be accepted, understood, and appreciated. The more the public sees varying stories of those on the spectrum, the better. After all, reality is a whole spectrum of people.

Thank you to the Independent Lens for providing me an advance DVD of The Horse Boy and to Simon & Schuster for generously giving me a hardbound copy of Cowboy & Wills. Both were provided free-for-review. No other compensation was or will be provided. In the case where amazon links appear in this post, they include my affiliate code such that purchases will kick back a couple cents to me.