Katie the Ceratosaurus

Like many children, neurotypical and otherwise, I spent a lot of my early childhood obsessed with dinosaurs.

I don’t remember how it started. It could have been the movie The Land Before Time. It could have been Dougal Dixon’s Dinosaurs or one of the other lavishly illustrated books my parents bought for me to encourage my interests. It might have been Walt Disney’s Fantasia, with its primal images of fire and transformation, hunger and disaster and death. (It definitely wasn’t Jurassic Park – I was already obsessed before that movie came out.) But I think it was probably earlier than any of those. In first and second grade, I remember trying to turn every school assignment into an opportunity to write my own story about dinosaurs, complete with illustrations, which I made by drawing the same dinosaur shapes with a stencil over and over…

(Read the whole post on Substack)

Everything Is True: An Introduction

It’s been a weird-ass year.

The pandemic and other world events have changed the ways we live our lives. That includes autistic people, maybe not more than most, but maybe a little differently. If we live alone, then the peace and quiet we crave is not just available but mandatory – maybe even more than we want. If we live with people, there’s even less getting away from them than before. If we are looking for social connections that work for us, they’re harder and harder to find.

I’ve been getting creative…

(Read the whole post on Substack)

MILLION-YEAR ELEGIES – now in print!

Surprise! The release date was supposed to be a month from now, but Amazon doesn’t like doing print pre-orders, so as soon as I uploaded the final print designs for Million-Year Elegies, it became available as a paperback. Happy accidental book day!

Here’s the purchase link on Amazon.com, and I’m told that it’s gone live on most of the other national Amazons as well. If you order now, in some areas, you might get the paperback delivered by Valentine’s Day, which would be a lovely treat if you or someone you love is into dinosaur poetry.

You can also read the table of contents, prologue, and acknowlegements with Amazon’s “Look Inside” feature.

The Kindle edition’s release date is still going to be March 9, and we’re also going to have the official launch event on Twitter on March 9 – stay tuned here for more announcements closer to that date.

Autistic Book Party, Episode 63: Power to Yield

Today’s Book: “Power to Yield,” a novella by Bogi Takács, published in Clarkesworld

The Plot: A young woman named Oyārun develops a fascination with a man named Aramīn – a controversial political figure who helped found her world in its current form, and who puts volunteers through agonizing magical transformations in order to keep that world safe.

Autistic Character(s): Oyārun, plus almost everyone else on her planet, because we’re back in the Ereni universe, yay!

Those of you who’ve been around for a little while will know how much I like the Ereni universe, in which there is a whole planet of autistic people with magical powers who have developed a culture of their own. “Power to Yield” shows us a corner of that universe that might not be what we expected. Other stories have mentioned the System, a magical shared consciousness that helps manage daily life on Eren; “Power to Yield” shows us how the System is made and maintained, why it is necessary, and what the price is. Ereni volunteers contribute to the System by merging their consciousness with the System for a period of time, through a process that Aramīn invented – but it is difficult for human minds to process so much magical information at once, even with preparation. The process of doing so is intensely painful, yet strangely compelling and even addictive.

This is a premise that incorporates many of Takács’ favorite themes – magical power and how to control it, neurodivergence, transformations, and non-sexual BDSM – but it might just go deeper into them than any story I’ve seen from Takács before.

“Power to Yield” is also set earlier in the timeline than much of Takács’ other work, when both Ereni society and the System are still new. The System, or something like it, is necessary because of the extremely high level of magic on Eren – without something in place to control it at a large scale, the planet would spawn monsters and other dangerous effects that would make it almost impossible to live there.

Aramīn is a neurodivergent character both by Ereni standards and by our own. He’s not autistic; instead, he is referred to with the slang term “Falconer.” In context, he seems to have something like ASPD. He has much less affective empathy than other people (though not none), and he has to set strict rules for himself in order to conform to the moral standards of the society he’s in. Even though Aramīn was a pivotal figure in the Ereni independence movement, people on Eren fear and distrust him because of his neurotype – except those who have worked with him in the System, who speak of him very highly indeed.

This ambiguity is a part of what draws Oyārun to Aramīn; after researching him for a school assignment, she becomes so fascinated with him that he becomes her new special interest. I love how the idea of special interests is worked into Ereni culture in this story. There is a word for them (“abuwen”) in the Ereni language, and there are robust online communities where Ereni discuss their special interests with others who share them; there are even intriguing hints of a sort of abuwen hierarchy, with abuwen being considered differently based on whether they are actively helpful, harmless (as with Oyārun’s previous abuwen, artistic paper folding), or potentially harmful. Unfortunately a special interest in a real, living person falls into that latter category – it’s not unheard of, but it can become a problem very fast.

I don’t know if the timing was a coincidence, but shortly after this story was released, I saw some discourse floating around on Twitter, saying that fixations on other people shouldn’t be considered special interests, because they are harmful. To classify a harmful thing as an autistic trait, according to this argument, would either be to condone the harmful thing (because the poor little autistic people who have the fixation can’t help it) or to imply that autism is inherently harmful. I disagree with this discourse, actually. I think it’s worthwhile to note that some autistic traits – and traits of many other forms of neurodivergence – can cause harm if they are not handled properly. I think it’s worthwhile for us to sit with that.

In any case, Takács sits with it in this story, and e resists the urge to tie the situation up with a tidy lesson. Oyārun worries that her abuwen will be harmful, and tries to suppress it – but that doesn’t stop her from eventually stalking Aramīn until he discovers her. Aramīn isn’t especially upset, but he in turn worries that, if he accepts Oyārun’s offer to work with him in the System, he’ll be taking advantage of her. From one point of view, her abuwen makes her vulnerable in a way other volunteers aren’t. Yet the System is desperately short on volunteers, and if she’s willing to do the work, then he needs her.

The results of this collaboration – successful on its face – remain emotionally ambiguous to the end. Is Oyārun’s work with the System a noble self-sacrifice? Is it somehow wrong? Is it necessary? Maybe, the story suggests, it’s all of those things. And maybe everyone on the planet Eren – Oyārun and Aramīn most of all – is just going to have to live with it.

The Verdict: Recommended-1

Climbing Lightly Through Forests

“Climbing Lightly Through Forests” is out today! It’s a tribute anthology in honor of Ursula K. LeGuin, and the poems are by an incredible collection of speculative poetry luminaries from around the world. Also me. I’m in it.

RB Lemberg and Lisa M. Bradley did the brilliant work of reaching out to poets and curating poems for this antho. RB solicited me directly, saying that they had collected a great deal of wonderful work for this book already but still felt they were missing my voice.

I was hesitant. I had read and liked some of LeGuin’s work before and understood how important she was to speculative fiction, but surely the work of writing meaningful tribute to her should be done by others? LeGuin scholars? Superfans? I didn’t know what to say.

RB listed some works of LeGuin’s that they did not have poems about yet for the book. One was “The Lathe of Heaven.”

“I think I didn’t like that one,” I said.

“Why not?” said RB. We talked.

Eventually RB, in their wisdom, suggested I read it again.

I got “The Lathe of Heaven” from my university library, read it again, and was immediately captivated. It was a very different book from the one I remembered reading in high school – or, more accurately, I am now a very different person. What I thought I’d read in high school was a treatise on why we shouldn’t try to change the world because nothing will get better. What I found myself reading, in my 30s, was something quite different – a story about abuse of power, about the control and the nature of power. A story about a man who experiences something he can’t control, and about the man who tries to bend that experience forcefully to his own will, under the guise of helping. Of course it all gets fucked up immediately. In my 30s, now that I’ve lived, these are rich themes for me.

So I found myself writing a poem in response to “The Lathe of Heaven” quite easily, and with gratitude to RB for guiding me to look at it again. My poem is called “Dream Logic.” I hope you’ll read it, and I hope it fits in among the work of these countless other amazing poets.

As an addendum, I also want to say that I’ve worked with RB before, and that the kind of process I’ve just described is something that is often missing from discussions about how to edit and curate work diversely. Even with a friendly banner in the submission guidelines saying that marginalized people’s work is welcome, marginalized people are often more hesitant to include themselves than others, quicker to conclude that they don’t belong, or that this particular project isn’t “theirs.” I would never have written this poem that fits into RB and Lisa’s anthology if RB hadn’t taken the time to talk with me, if they hadn’t known both me and the work well enough to patiently make the suggestions they did.

To do this kind of thing as an editor requires not only a welcoming attitude and willingness to do emotional labor – it requires *connectedness.* It requires a deep knowledge of who is in the field that others might overlook and what those individuals might need from you. It’s privilege that I’ve been able to stick around in this field long enough to make these kinds of connections. But it’s also deliberate work on the part of RB and many others who have worked to include me and others like me. RB and Lisa are very good at this work, and I’m *really* excited to read the collection in its final form with all the work from all these different wonderful poets.

Christmas microfiction

Over on Twitter yesterday morning, I impulsively offered to write microfiction based on Christmas carol prompts. I had a bit of a mood/energy crash partway through Christmas itself, so most of the prompts were not completed until today, but I did complete them! And now I am compiling them here for safekeeping.

(CN religion/Christianity; the majority of these are not overtly religious in nature, but a couple of them turned into straight-up Virgin Mary fanfiction. 🙃 )

*

“I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas”
(for @AshCHopkins)

The hippo stood in the living room, huge and stinking and glistening wet, with a little red giftwrap ribbon around its head. It looked too big to even fit through the doorway, and it had casually crushed the Christmas tree against the side of the wall.

“I take it back,” I said.

*

“The Cherry Tree Carol”
(for @liminally_human)

Mary looked up, into the cherry tree’s generous branches laden with pink blossoms, which had curled down protectively to give her what she asked; and down again, at her old, angry, jealous husband.

“I think I’m staying with the tree, thanks,” she said.

*

Roy Orbison, “Pretty Paper”
(for @popelizbet)

We became too hungry in the end. Their towers rose, snow-capped and gilded, leaving less and less for the masses that teemed outside.

The cold sharpened our fingers to claws.

When they emerged, weighed down with finery and still refusing to see us, we were ready.

*

“I Saw Three Ships”
(for @epballou)

The ships made their ghostly way over the desert sands, sails billowing in the dry and dusty air. On their top decks we could almost make out figures, dressed in robes too fine for sailors, or for ghosts.

*

“Patapan”
(for @BrutalistG)

No one else could hear it. My husband shook his head and muttered something about my overactive ears. But it was *there* – a constant drumming, a weird murmuring of flutes, somewhere just out of sight.

*

“In The Bleak Midwinter”
(for @awritingwall)

There wasn’t glory in the cold stink of the stable. Not the divine glow that had filled the room when the angel came the first time.

But when she kissed her baby’s forehead, she knew what he was. She still saw it, the profusion of wings and light, behind her closed eyes.

*

“Carol of the Bells”
(for @boltgrrl and @MJS9468)

The town had been lined with them: bells in the towers, bells that hung from the corners of roofs, bells jingling in the reins of the horses.

It should have been unbearable, but as I stepped out into it, like the aimless music of a wind-chime the size of a city, I smiled.

*

“Angels We Have Fed on Pie”
(parody of Angels We Have Heard on High)
(for @AnnaFromA2)

The old laws said, welcome the stranger – you never knew who might be an angel in disguise, here to pass judgment on the unkind.

So we ended up with this raucuous, happy clump of refugees in our kitchen, eating our best pumpkin pie.

Couldn’t see any wings, but you never know.

*

Queen, “A Winter’s Tale”
(for @liveotherwise)

Even under quarantine, there was something calming about the view out the window, the soft roll of the snow and the roll of the sunset. The call of the winter geese. Even if it fixed nothing about what was unraveling in the world. Even then.

ANNOUNCING: Million-Year Elegies

Mock-up cover design for a book with the title "Million-Year Elegies" by Ada Hoffmann. The title and author are displayed, and there is a picture of the curled-up skeleton of a juvenile Maiasaurus.

Yesterday on Twitter, for my 33rd birthday, I unveiled a special surprise – an upcoming dinosaur poetry book! It will be released from Kindle Direct Publishing on March 9, 2020.

Emerge from the seas; guard your eggs from the storm; crawl inside a T-rex’s skull. On a time-traveling poetic journey from the Late Heavy Bombardment to the present day, Ada Hoffmann uses ancient life to explore questions of trauma, power, survival, and how we see ourselves.

The cover art is by the wonderful Kelsey Liggett, who also did art for ROBOT DINOSAURS! The image above is a mock-up, posted with permission – the art is final, but we’re still working on the fonts and other design elements. Kelsey will also be doing several interior illustrations.

MILLION-YEAR ELEGIES is something I’ve been working on for years – most of the poetry was written between 2015-2017, but it took longer to figure out where and how I wanted to put the whole thing out in the world. It’s been a labor of love and a project very close to my heart – both because DINOSAURS!! (a recurring special interest) and because the theme of ancient life has given me so much room to explore personal, powerful things.

I’m calling it “dinosaur poetry” because of course I am, and there are going to be lots of big meaty dinosaur poems in here, but it’s also beyond just dinosaurs; each poem is named after a different ancient creature, ranging from the origins of life to the recent past.

If you want a taste of what these poems are like, I can link you to four that are already published:

“Tyrannosaurus,” in Uncanny Magazine

I will be old and never realize
why I crave an armor made of razor bones.

“Hallucigenia,” in Liminality

Yet he cannot quite believe
what he sees with his eyes: this shape
lacking head or tail, the sheer spinesplotchy
patched-together matter-of-factness of you.

“Edmontonia,” in Mythic Delirium

the bold heavy beat
of a heart that knows weight and grins
in its midst

“Oviraptor,” in Strange Horizons

Maybe I ate you after all,
my egg, my tiny everything

These four – plus “Archaeopteryx,” which appeared in Asimov’s Magazine – are the only previously published works appearing in this collection; the rest is brand new and written specifically for the book.

You can pre-order the Kindle edition of Million-Year Elegies here. Closer to the release date, when the book is formatted and the illustrations are ready, there will also be a paperback edition.

Autistic Book Party, Episode 62 and a half: Short Story Smorgasbord

Nancy Kress, “End Game” (Asimov’s, 2007; I read it reprinted in the August 2013 issue of Lightspeed)

This story is about a man named Allen who wishes to research drugs to improve his focus, and who ends up accidentally creating a contagious illness that makes people hyperfocus to the point of being unable to think of anything but a single interest.

Autism is not ever mentioned by name in this story, but it’s a presence throughout. Even before Allen begins experimenting to try to artificially induce hyperfocus, he is depicted with stereotypical autistic traits – blunt, inept with manners, emotionally distant and inclined toward monologues. Jeff, the story’s narrator, finds him irritating. His research, as it progresses, only exacerbates these traits – in him, in a test subject named Lucy, and eventually in everyone else.

Kress’s Author Spotlight for this story says: “Allen’s POV would be too hard for me to write, and too hard for readers to identify with. For this sort of story, you want someone who can observe the horror, not be the horror.” And this more or less sums up the problems I encountered while reading the story. Allen’s research begins to focus people to a debilitating degree, but he’s othered from the very beginning. Even his parents as a teenager are frightened of him. Even Jeff’s wife, who is described as warm, empathetic, and interested in eccentricity, finds Allen intolerable once she’s had to sit through a dinner with him. Like Vernor Vinge (who wrote about extreme artificially-induced focus, in a different but related way, in “A Deepness In The Sky”) Kress isn’t at all interested in the experiences and perspectives of autistic people, but only in how their autistic traits might serve as a metaphor for her own questions about focus, distraction, and their appropriate roles in a neurotypical mind.

Moreover, it’s puzzling that Allan – despite having a doctorate and having done a lifetime of research into the mind, and despite being strongly autistic-coded himself – doesn’t seem to have ever heard of autism. If he’s heard of it, he expresses no thoughts about it, even as it pertains to his research. The fact that he’s had intense and unpredictable interests all his life – which is an autistic trait – doesn’t seem to register to him as being relevant to a research program which is entirely about being able to focus on intense interests.

I am by no means an #ownvoices purist – I think non-autistic people can and do write autism well. But this is the kind of story that I think could have been much better and much more interesting if it was, in fact, written by an autistic author. We actually have very nuanced experiences around our special interests and our ability to hyperfocus. There is joy in such experiences that goes beyond merely the joy of being able to tune out distractions (though that’s part of it). There is also struggle, because our interests and their intensity can be socially unacceptable, because we can be subject to coercion around them, and because they can get in the way of self-care and other life activities. If Allan’s perspective had been written in a way that intelligently addressed this, and that thought deeply about the trade-offs inherent in being able to intensify or control a special interest, then this would have been a very different story and I would have liked it much more. It could still be a horror story, as Kress intended – there would still be lots of room for Allan’s process to get out of control and have unintended effects – but it would be a much more complex and empathetic one. [Not Recommended]

*

Ren Basel, “The Queen of Cups” (self-published, March 2019)

[Autistic author] Theo, a nonbinary youth from a family of sailors, must consult an Oracle before their first journey. For mysterious reasons, the Oracle insists on accompanying them to sea. This is the kind of fantasy story that many readers will find comforting for its matter-of-fact treatment of gender and neurodivergence in a world where discrimination is absent. Theo is never explicitly labeled as non-neurotypical, but their synesthesia and need to stim are a part of their character consistently throughout the story. Theo’s use of a beaded bracelet to relieve stress is a very simple thing, but I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen stim toys integrated into a fantasy setting in this way before, matter-of-factly or otherwise. [Recommended-1]

*

Robin M Eames, “crip mythic” (Cordite Poetry Review, May 2019)

[Autistic author] This is a poem about physical disability, not autism, but autistic readers will relate very hard to lines like “my body is not my body / but a metaphor in someone else’s mouth” and to the poem’s overarching theme – what it’s like to live a life that others see as a horror and a cautionary tale, and to still fiercely value your life and self. [Recommended-2]

*

Andi C. Buchanan, “Even the Clearest Water” (Fireside, July 2020)

[Autistic author] In this story, Buchanan takes an #ownvoices approach to the issue of autistic people wandering and drowning, and of the idea that autistic children are “drawn to water.” The narrator is a faerie being who lives in a river, and who’s willing to save human visitors from drowning – for a price. They encounter a non-speaking autistic child, and later realize that the child’s mother – also autistic, though able to speak and hold a job – is also someone they saved years earlier. Despite the dark subject matter (the child has to be saved from accidental drowning, and the mother’s first encounter with the narrator was a suicide attempt) the story feels sweet and oddly comforting, as the narrator is drawn, through a playful approach to their own system of prices and debts, into a family-like relationship with both mortals. [Recommended-1]

*

R.B. Lemberg, “Stone Listening” (Strange Horizons tenth anniversary issue, August 31, 2020)

[Autistic author] This poem is a tribute to a book by Ursula K. LeGuin that I haven’t read, so I am not the person to comment on it at length, but I love it so much. There’s a lot packed in here about survival in a world where very little will survive, about honoring death and grief and hope without forcing them into a narrative larger than themselves – a lot that feels uncomfortably relevant to today’s crises, despite having come from another time and another world. [Recommended-2]

*

Arula Ratnakar, “Lone Puppeteer of a Sleeping City” (Clarkesworld, September 2020)

[Autistic author] This is a fascinating hard sci-fi story with a lot going on. Thanks to climate change, humans are preparing to go into a hibernation of sorts while robots repair the world’s fragile ecosystems. The narrator, Onyx, is an artificial intelligence preparing simulated worlds for the humans to experience while they’re asleep – but she forms a bond with one young human, Eesha, which will profoundly change her own fate.

I’m not doing the story justice by focusing on just one aspect, but what’s especially fascinating to me, from a neurodiversity perspective, is the way Ratnakar handles different kinds of minds. There are regular humans, and there are human minds uploaded into computer systems, and there are cyborgs called Diasteroms who are born with modified brains, and there is Onyx, who is sufficiently different from all these groups as to have trouble communicating with them. Both the Diasteroms – who we don’t see much of, but who are subject to prejudice and suspicion – and Onyx herself could be seen as loose metaphors for neurodivergent humans. Onyx’s experiences are described this way:

The other children did not want to play with you either—or rather, they did not know that you wanted to play with them. They could not tell what you were feeling, what you were thinking. They knew you as a fascinating entity that they should treat with respect, but they did not consider you one of them.

But Eesha, while a normal human, feels different from the other children. She feels an immediate kinship with Onyx and has a much easier time communicating with her than other humans. It’s hinted, though not spelled out, that Eesha is neurodivergent herself, and the close bond between her and Onyx – something none of the other characters can understand – is what drives this story at its heart. [Recommended-2]

Capclave 2020

This seems like a good time to mention that I will be appearing (in a limited form) at Virtual Capclave 2020! The schedule’s here.

Zoom is actually really difficult for me. I won’t be appearing on panels the way I would at a face-to-face convention, simply because I’m trying to make the event manageable for my spoons. But I’ll be doing a half-hour reading and attending the WSFA Small Press Award ceremony!

Saturday, October 17, 6:00 PM: WSFA SMALL PRESS AWARDS

Both the Small Press Awards and the WSFA’s amateur writer’s contest will have their winners announced at this time. I’m a finalist for the Small Press Award for my novelette, “Fairest of All.

Sunday, October 18, 10:00 AM: AUTHOR READING – ADA HOFFMANN

I’ll be reading from current and/or future work, live over Zoom.

I hope to see a few of you 🙂

Autistic Book Party, Episode 62: The Four Profound Weaves

Cover art of "The Four Profound Weaves." The title is displayed on an illustration of a scroll, with motifs of flying birds and bones.

Today’s Book: “The Four Profound Weaves” by R.B. Lemberg

The Plot: A nameless man and a woman named Uiziya set out in search of Uiziya’s aunt, a master weaver who could weave cloth out of death.

Autistic Character(s): The author!

R.B. Lemberg has been writing stories in the magical setting of Birdverse for many years, but this novella is in many senses their debut – the first work they’ve released as a physical, standalone, single-work book. (Though it’s not their first novella; that would be “A Portrait of the Desert in Personages of Power,” which was published in installments in the magazine Beneath Ceaseless Skies.)

The nameless man – called “nen-sasaïr,” or “son of sandbirds,” for much of the story – and Uiziya are both older protagonists, feeling lost and stuck in their lives until they see some spark in each other that spurs them to act on their dreams. Nen-sasaïr, a trans man who transitioned late in life, wants to rejoin his birth culture – which has extremely strict binary gender roles, to the point of sequestering men completely, and is not particularly trans-accepting. Uiziya, a weaver, wants to rejoin her aunt Benesret, who mentored her at weaving. Benesret could weave wondrous carpets out of all sorts of materials, including death itself, but her powers come with a terrible price.

One of the joys of Birdverse is how interconnected everything is. Like many autistic authors who fixate on worldbuilding, Lemberg has put immense thought, detail, and love into this fictional world, and many of its stories draw on characters or ideas from other stories. Longtime Birdverse readers will note that nen-sasaïr is a character from the novelette “Grandmother Nai-Leylit’s Cloth of Winds,” who transitioned at the end of that story, and that one of Benesret’s carpets is the same carpet described in the poem “I will show you a single treasure from the treasures of Shah Niyaz.” That Shah himself appears as the story’s antagonist, as the meeting with Benesret balloons into a larger quest. However, to readers who are new to Birdverse, this story explains itself well enough to stand on its own.

Kimi, an autistic child from “Grandmother Nai-Leylit’s Cloth of Winds,” also has a cameo in this book – they’re twelve now, and it’s delightful to see them happy and building their skills, including having made a magic carpet of their own.

Both Uiziya and nen-sasaïr are trans characters, but with very different life experiences. Nen-sasaïr struggles with a cissexist birth culture and with prior relationships that didn’t accept him, but gender transition is commonplace in Uizia’s culture, and she transitioned in a magical ritual when she was very young. While Uiziya treats gender matter-of-factly, nen-sasaïr has more difficult experiences as he tries to imagine himself in the cultural role that he always longed for. Lemberg describes these experiences with remarkable nuance:

I would be among men.

Among scholars.

I had dreamt of this day so many times, ever since I was little. I dreamt of running through one of these gates unnoticed, as a child, sneaking in before my grandmothers could stop me. I would hide among the narrow streets of men, unseen until I learned how to better pass among them. I would sneak into the holy rooms where boys my age learned the writ. I would become a ghost, learning the writ in secret while the boys slept.

Later, after Benesret’s promise, returning from the desert with the small cloth of winds in my hands, I began to fantasize about entering the gate not as a ghost, but as a man who had a right to be there. And that was when my mind would hiccup and withdraw, for how would I prove— how would I fit— even having the right body, but not the lifetime of learning, how would I fit on the men’s side?

The quest that leads Uiziya and nen-sasaïr into the heart of a cruel empire is an uplifting one, despite its dark themes – how to respond in the face of tyranny, how to honor the dead, how to attempt to right wrongs that can never be fully undone. Hope and death, two of the four profound weaves of the title, are inextricably intertwined.

Aside from Kimi’s cameo, there isn’t much direct autism rep in this book, but it’s a wonderful book.

The Verdict: Recommended-2

For a list of past/future/possible Autistic Book Party books, click here.