Mark Haddon’s book starts out by being a nice whodunit with a special detective. Christopher Francis Boone has special needs. He is like a I dunno somewhat touchy special needs character. We tell ourselves, surely we can sympathise with that. As the book starts progressing and the special needs start rolling out you start wondering what you got yourself into.
The basic premise is who stuck a pitchfork into the kid’s neighbour’s dog. The kid comes across as one of those really nice smug, conceited, selfish people (with special needs-don’t forget that) whom you would love to run your car into. While he is not describing one of his many fits of anti social behaviour, he spouts crappy definitions of relativity, explains physics condescendingly and assumes the general reader is familiar with the ins and outs of conditional probability.
I sympathised with the guy as the book started out. I see now that it was a mistake. haddon draws a convincing portrait of a disabled child only he goes overboard and makes the kid look like a prick.
Halfway through the book you find yourself sneakily wishing the kid did the dog in or that somebody would come along and give the prick a sound thrashing with a spatula (the kid doesn’t like being touched-another special need). As we see the people around the kid tearing their hair out just to coexist with the prick, the prick starts giving us holier than thou lessons about life and trigonometry and describes how an ordinary chore like going to the railway station is his version of the Crusades.
My sympathy curve started going downwards just about then. To be sure, haddon makes a compelling argument that to deal with such special people you have to be special yourself which means infinite patience and tolerance. He also succeeds in showing that the people the prick is surrounded by aren’t like that. but what he didn’t count on is the readers going ’Thank god for that’.
It is all well and noble to talk about the uplifting the human spirit gets by catering to mr. special needs prick but you have to be more than human to pull it off. and that’s fair. what I don’t like is haddon’s accusatory tone and painting the kid in shades of lavender goodness when all you really want to know is why he doesn’t get the daylights beaten out of him by somebody for being such a prick
The end is a case in point. When everybody around him is careening through their worst mid life crises, all the prick can think about is passing his a-level in maths and how happy that’s gonna make him. Look i’l be fair with you,
If the kid’s parents had had him conked off after he was born, I would have said sure if it works for you. what I w on’t have is somebody launching into a soaring litany about the essential goodness of life and how precious it is and how privileged we all are to have such a pestilence walking around. To them I would say-Go read the book.