Calling this a fiction just goes to show how much of genre is content rather than form and how little that is necessarily what is interesting about books.
Hon's speculation is fascinating (there's the "I expect this to become obsolete" and then there's no mention of the mRNA vaccine, which tells you everything you need to know about publication date). It's interesting to see where he's optimistic and where he's pessimistic, where he has faith in us and where he, instead, has DEEP skepticism.
I think he might be a bit optimistic when it comes to climate change and ALSO I don't think he was intending to be.
I have my own deep skepticism, about what he imagines growing and what he imagines fundamentally changing. But isn't that always the way, when it comes to the future. And, as someone who loves to imagine SFF AI, I am deeply skeptical any of us will ever see it.

 This book was a lovely meditation on identity and the work that goes into creating the self and ALSO a scathing indictment of the mediocre men (usually) who rise instead of extraordinary women and POC. 
And also I just think math ideas are really cool.  

I feel like I just enjoy Pierce’s more recent books less and I don’t know why that is. I like what she’s trying to do in general, but it just doesn’t always land for me and I wish I knew why. 
Anyway, this was fun, I’m glad I finally finished the Emelan books. 

I loved it when I first read it and, despite having forgotten everything except the first chapter, I loved it again on audio reread.

Why yes, this book is just as sweet and brilliant and adorable as everyone said it was. Definitely delighted I read it.

Everyone here is a traumatized cinnamon roll and watching them slowly come out of their...shells? icing?—whatever the metaphor breaks down—is the joy of this book. It is precisely as sweet and as salty as it should be. It's like a caramel covered pretzel of a book.
Clearly I devoured it.

Did I...did I just check eery check box for what this book is?
Because LITERALLY everything. And also such good Elul reading, which I know is weird because it's not about Elul, but it is about God from the narrow places and the ability to take stock of oneself and also just every Lavery writes, since his days at The Toast, has been beautiful and makes me want to just hug a stuffed animal and weep, but in a good way.
And also he's absolutely a very particular kind of stylist and if it is not your thing, you can bounce HARD off of the prose.

This book was, dare I say it, *chef's kiss* and the perfect mix of feel good and feel angry that I want from the genre. The kids are all right.

I am and have been a sucker for McCulloch's writing since the days of the Benadryl Cummerbund name generation and I'm delighted she wrote this book. The number of times I just stopped reading and thought "huh, interesting" was very high and what more can you ask from a book?

So, fun fact, I used to think I was not the kind of person who was triggered by the content of books. Apparently I just hadn't read anything viscerally upsetting enough. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Which is not a dig at this book, the history of autism and the treatment of children diagnosed with whatever name it was going by that decade is viscerally upsetting. It's a book filled with stories of well-meaning people torturing children and it sometimes feels like that fact is not given the space it needs to breathe.
Silberman's history is precisely that; although the future is about 30 pages at the end and the vast majority of the book is taken up with deeply nuanced and overall sympathetic portraits of the people who shaped 20th century autism research without either justifying or supporting so many of their factually incorrect and morally reprehensible conclusions. He's more interested in tracing the evolution of autism in scientific and cultural consciousness while mapping out attitudes towards it. It's only towards the end that autistic people come to the center of the conversation and get a chance to speak up. Which is also reflective of the history so that's not a surprise.
There's a usefulness to the book in understanding where we have come from and where we are going (and why we're so eager to get away from it). I wanted, I'll admit, more of a polemic about the need for support and services rather than curemongering. And yet that wasn't what Silberman set out to do. His goal was to tell the story. "Look at where we are. Look at where we started. The fact that we're alive is a miracle." Indeed.
Anyway, highly recommended for people trying to understand the history of autism as a diagnosis and the shift towards actually autistic people advocating for themselves and demanding a better world for all neurotypes. 
(There's a persistent tendency to believe that the autistic people doing this advocacy work aren't "as" autistic or that "low-functioning" (a term the autistic community intensely dislikes because it often just means "needs alternative forms of communication" or "requires more care" as if  needing more is somehow a bad thing) autistic people are not part of this new movement when it's clear that the broad slate of demands—access to communication devices, attention to the causes of sensory overload, and people willing to fight for their services—leads to better outcomes for autistics across the entire spectrum. To which I can only say - listen to non-speaking autistic voices and the short film <a href="https://youtu.be/H7dca7U7GI8">Listen</a> is a great place to start.)