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935 reviews by:
bardicbramley
I'm so glad I took the time to read this book. Although it is not a life changing read, I did enjoy it, and it served as a thinking piece. As an educator as well, it's a great concept and tool to have on my shelf.
The book uses the public domain writings of 'The Blue Fairy Book', 'The Red Fairy Book' and 'The Yellow Fairy Book' by Andrew and Leonora Blanche Lang. Runs them through an algorithm that swaps all the genders of the characters, and edits them to be readable in such a way.
This means the original language of the late 1800s texts is still used, and so it's a very traditional reading experience, with a major twist.
I found the reading itself mixed. Some stories worked amazingly well, others were more complicated, dated or confusing. But that comes down to personal understanding and preference I think.
The part which I really enjoyed, was the way this books starts a conversation. In the introduction, Fransman and Plackett talk about the patterns and differences the algorithm had on the stories, talking about how the female characters name began to appear first in the titles, how the women were described as handsome, and the young boys as being pretty, and how the wicked mothers became fathers, the Kings became Queens, the hags old men, and the witches wizards.
It was so interesting to see those gendered stereotypes reversed, and roles redistributed.
The book uses the public domain writings of 'The Blue Fairy Book', 'The Red Fairy Book' and 'The Yellow Fairy Book' by Andrew and Leonora Blanche Lang. Runs them through an algorithm that swaps all the genders of the characters, and edits them to be readable in such a way.
This means the original language of the late 1800s texts is still used, and so it's a very traditional reading experience, with a major twist.
I found the reading itself mixed. Some stories worked amazingly well, others were more complicated, dated or confusing. But that comes down to personal understanding and preference I think.
The part which I really enjoyed, was the way this books starts a conversation. In the introduction, Fransman and Plackett talk about the patterns and differences the algorithm had on the stories, talking about how the female characters name began to appear first in the titles, how the women were described as handsome, and the young boys as being pretty, and how the wicked mothers became fathers, the Kings became Queens, the hags old men, and the witches wizards.
It was so interesting to see those gendered stereotypes reversed, and roles redistributed.
Okay. That took a while. But it was definitely worth it.
I was recommended this book by my university disability officer when I updated her on my recent autism diagnosis. She definitely wasn't wrong when she called it 'a tome', but I'd already written it down in my notes by that point, so I had no choice but to check it out of the library.
I usually read up about things way before they become something seriously affecting me - rather ironically, I like to be prepared - however in my denial, I hadn't been expecting the diagnosis. A book recommendation was exactly what I needed to help me process and understand. I got my diagnosis in the summer of 2020. I started reading this book in October 2020, and have just finished in in February 2021. It was definitely a commitment.
However, at no point did I feel like giving up on it. It may have been long, academic, and difficult at times, but every page felt like a rewarding learning experience. Whether it was an emotional punch to the gut of Asperger and the Holocaust, disgust and anger at the ways autistic children and adults have been treated in the past, a warm connection to the descriptions and voices of autistic advocates and historical personalities, or general awareness of the academic, medical and professional progress around the condition... every page was worth the effort.
I would recommend this book to anyone who wants an in-depth, serious and well referenced insight into the world and history of autism spectrum condition. Whether you are autistic yourself, a close nuerodivergent or disabled 'cousin', a family member of an autistic person, or a professional who wants to be prepared to understand those who are autistic. This fits the bill across the board.
I can't bring myself to give 5 stars, mainly for the small parts of description in the book that felt dragged out. I have not read anything else by Silberman, but I would not be surprised to hear that his writing background is in journalism (having just looked him up whilst writing this, it would seem I'm correct in that assumption).
I would also highlight that from my brief research, Silberman is not himself autistic.
I was recommended this book by my university disability officer when I updated her on my recent autism diagnosis. She definitely wasn't wrong when she called it 'a tome', but I'd already written it down in my notes by that point, so I had no choice but to check it out of the library.
I usually read up about things way before they become something seriously affecting me - rather ironically, I like to be prepared - however in my denial, I hadn't been expecting the diagnosis. A book recommendation was exactly what I needed to help me process and understand. I got my diagnosis in the summer of 2020. I started reading this book in October 2020, and have just finished in in February 2021. It was definitely a commitment.
However, at no point did I feel like giving up on it. It may have been long, academic, and difficult at times, but every page felt like a rewarding learning experience. Whether it was an emotional punch to the gut of Asperger and the Holocaust, disgust and anger at the ways autistic children and adults have been treated in the past, a warm connection to the descriptions and voices of autistic advocates and historical personalities, or general awareness of the academic, medical and professional progress around the condition... every page was worth the effort.
I would recommend this book to anyone who wants an in-depth, serious and well referenced insight into the world and history of autism spectrum condition. Whether you are autistic yourself, a close nuerodivergent or disabled 'cousin', a family member of an autistic person, or a professional who wants to be prepared to understand those who are autistic. This fits the bill across the board.
I can't bring myself to give 5 stars, mainly for the small parts of description in the book that felt dragged out. I have not read anything else by Silberman, but I would not be surprised to hear that his writing background is in journalism (having just looked him up whilst writing this, it would seem I'm correct in that assumption).
I would also highlight that from my brief research, Silberman is not himself autistic.
Wow.
Once again, Elle McNicoll has absolutely ruined my heart in the best possible way.
I have so many thoughts and emotions right now.
This is why I love reading. Everything about Show Me, and Spark before it, reminds me why I love to read.
I started this book today, and I just didn't want to put it down. I've been struggling to focus on reading (or really anything) since Christmas, so that says an awful lot about this story.
By a third of the way I could feel my eyes watering, and for the remaining two thirds, it persisted with a strength I had forgotten I could feel. The emotional roller coaster that I went on reading this was intense; but also, beautifully raw. It maintained such a careful and perfect balance that never tipped into numb or confusing, but constantly prised just a little bit more empathy as you worked your way through the mystery.
Knowing that this book was written during the covid-19 pandemic, as well as still living in lockdown during reading, likely made this story that much stronger for me. The pain that the world collectively had been though, as well as the grief of those individuals greatly affected, can be felt with every word.
I have been following Elle McNicoll on twitter since I read Spark, and I am aware that she suffered a painful loss that led to writing this. I can feel that honest love in every word. The creation of this book feels to me to be so much more than a beautiful story; it is an act of love. Both to those the author has lost, and of self love.
I can't honestly tell you if McNicoll is simply a genius with her skill for writing, or if reading a fellow autistic author's work somehow connects to me in a different way, but I am utterly in awe of her art.
I will likely read this again from the viewpoint of a teacher once I have recovered, but for now, I would highly recommend for anyone, of any age, as a novel or power, grief and self-acceptance alone.
Once again, Elle McNicoll has absolutely ruined my heart in the best possible way.
I have so many thoughts and emotions right now.
This is why I love reading. Everything about Show Me, and Spark before it, reminds me why I love to read.
I started this book today, and I just didn't want to put it down. I've been struggling to focus on reading (or really anything) since Christmas, so that says an awful lot about this story.
By a third of the way I could feel my eyes watering, and for the remaining two thirds, it persisted with a strength I had forgotten I could feel. The emotional roller coaster that I went on reading this was intense; but also, beautifully raw. It maintained such a careful and perfect balance that never tipped into numb or confusing, but constantly prised just a little bit more empathy as you worked your way through the mystery.
Knowing that this book was written during the covid-19 pandemic, as well as still living in lockdown during reading, likely made this story that much stronger for me. The pain that the world collectively had been though, as well as the grief of those individuals greatly affected, can be felt with every word.
I have been following Elle McNicoll on twitter since I read Spark, and I am aware that she suffered a painful loss that led to writing this. I can feel that honest love in every word. The creation of this book feels to me to be so much more than a beautiful story; it is an act of love. Both to those the author has lost, and of self love.
I can't honestly tell you if McNicoll is simply a genius with her skill for writing, or if reading a fellow autistic author's work somehow connects to me in a different way, but I am utterly in awe of her art.
I will likely read this again from the viewpoint of a teacher once I have recovered, but for now, I would highly recommend for anyone, of any age, as a novel or power, grief and self-acceptance alone.