2.5 stars

Ironically, this book didn't evoke that much empathy (or strong interest) in me. Clearly it's well-researched, but I don't feel like I learned anything particularly exciting nor am I inspired to take any kind of action to adjust my technology usage or empathy levels. Maybe it means I'm already beyond saving, or maybe this book just wasn't really for me.

Or both; that's always a possibility.

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CONVERSION: 7.25 / 15 = 2.5 stars

Prose: 5 / 10
Intellectual Engagement: 4 / 10
Credibility: 6 / 10
Organization / Structure: 4 / 10

Emotional Impact / Interest: 3 / 5
Rereadability: N/A
Memorability: 2 / 5

Bearing in mind that I wasn’t really a fan of the Mary Shelley original, I liked Kiersten White’s version less than I’d hoped. The premise is terrific — make the story about a teenage girl undervalued by those around her — but I think she took it too far in making Victor an actual sociopath obsessed with Elizabeth. I like nuance and moral gray areas, and White seems to have eschewed them in favor of a clear hero/villain/victim dichotomy and fairly standard plot/character development. The one scene I did enjoy was the nod to canon: Victor’s journals, in which

Spoiler

he rewrites the story to presumably the version he tells Walton, with “so many descriptions of mountains”; however, given the ending, White’s version can’t really coexist with Shelley’s novel

.

The subtleties of the original story are lost (which is the real monster, Frankenstein or his creation? Well, White has a very clear answer for that; she’s also taken the mystery out of Victor’s creation process, whereas Mary Shelley hardly even hints at the details “to prevent others from trying to recreate it”), and while the ending looked like a great intersection of retelling and original, the actual climax was far too rushed and even undermined the buildup. (Look, I don’t really like when

Spoiler

dead characters come back to life, especially in the very next chapter

, and besides, I never really connected with Elizabeth.)

I received an Advance Review Copy from Netgalley. This does not affect my rating or opinions. Quotes are taken from said ARC and may change upon publication.

I always thought I was alone. I never had anyone to tell me my experiences made sense to them. I never had anyone else's experiences available as evidence that what I was experiencing was real. That's why I'm writing this book; it's the book I wish I'd been able to read when I was younger.

The highly personal nature of memoirs, especially on such sensitive and potentially painful topics, simultaneously creates high potential for emotional impact ... and makes them really freaking hard to rate and review. Because this is such a candid, unflinchingly account of some pretty dark periods in the author's life [please see content warnings below and practice self-care as needed], multiple sections of this book were difficult to read.

It's definitely an eye-opening read regardless of how familiar you are with autistic and/or trans experiences — I could go on about the importance of intersectionality, but suffice it to say every autistic person's experience is different, as is every LGBTQIA+ person's, and so on for each aspect of life affecting one's level of privilege / quality of life. Of course Dale spends a lot of time on personal anecdotes, but she also examines the societal constraints that created so many of these situations and issues.

We're definitely not allowed to exist as LGBT and on the autism spectrum at the same time; that's way too many forbidden things going on. It's too out there: representation gone mad. No person is that many diversity tick boxes at once, are they?

Although there is a demonstrated overlap between being autistic and being LGBTQIA+, healthcare professionals have yet to figure out how to best address it, and society at large is hardly doing any better. And the overlap is also important, because not only do both conditions make life more difficult, they make each other more difficult. Societal and/or personal approaches for one condition might not work for the other (one example Dale gives is LGBTQIA+ spaces inherently not being autistic-friendly, contributing to sensory overload), and due to the highly individualized nature of both, it's extremely difficult to find truly inclusive solutions.

But, in the end, over the course of a few years, I found a method that worked even better for me. I tried just not giving a shit [what other people think].

As Dale explains in detail, it's largely the influence of external factors — judgment, hostility, aggression — that make it difficult to be non-heterosexual and non-neurotypical. (Hell is other people.) There are some advantages to being autistic, trans, and gay; and at the end of the day, Dale makes it clear that she wouldn't change herself despite the challenges she has faced and continues to face. For so many people, life goes on, and it gets better.

Empathy, understanding, and destigmatization can go a long way toward preventing the kind of discrimination and bullying that Dale faced and hopes to combat by sharing her story. So whether you're LGBTQIA+, autistic, both, or neither, I would highly recommend this book.

content warnings:

Spoiler

mentions of suicidal ideation & suicide attempts, mentions of being misgendered & dead-named, mentions of assault & harassment, discussions of addiction (caffeine, stimming, alcohol), discussions of societal prejudice & discrimination

I'll be honest, this isn't my favorite of Shakespeare's plays — I want to say it's because it's over-referenced, but I really like Caesar and Hamlet so I don't think that's entirely the explanation. My main lasting impressions of Macbeth are politics/power, blood, murder, and madness, none of which really appeal to me; I do like the witches, though.

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CONVERSION: 11.85 / 15 = 4 stars

Prose: 10 / 10
Characters & Relationships: 6 / 10
Emotional Impact: 4 / 10
Development / Flow: 9 / 10
Setting: 9 / 10

Diversity & Social Themes: N/A
Intellectual Engagement: 4 / 5
Originality / Trope Execution: 5 / 5
Rereadability: 3 / 5
Memorability: 5 / 5

(I received a free eARC from Edelweiss in exchange for an honest review.)

I actually had to take a break in the middle of reading this because it struck home — not just close, but all the way. As in, I recognized very specific thoughts and behaviors that I’ve noticed but never considered in an ASD context, and I just felt seen and understood in a way that I never have before.

No one ever does seem to talk about all the complexities of being a girl on the spectrum: the specific challenges boys don’t face, the difficulty of being diagnosed in the first place, the extra social obstacle that it often is in a world where women in particular rely on interpersonal skills, the vulnerability to other types of harm (specifically, self-harm and toxic relationships). And that’s all on top of the universal difficulties, the stigma, the disadvantages of living in a world built for neurotypical people.

The anecdotes and analogies used are well-chosen, making each point accessible to a diverse audience. O’Toole also makes some effort to address intersectionality — considering the numerous other complexities addressed and the space it would take to address the nuances, it’s adequate, but by no means comprehensive or revolutionary; she does a better job with the broader feminist angle. My biggest concern is the gendered use of heels and pink to symbolize females, especially considering that the author acknowledges in-text that there are so many ways “spectrum girls” can choose to demonstrate (or not) our relationship to femininity, and that biologically-female Aspies might not even identify as such.