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Know the Night: A Memoir of Survival in the Small Hours by Maria Mutch

bhanson24's review against another edition

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3.0

As a speech-language pathologist, it is always interesting and helpful to read from the perspective of a parent of a child with a disability, and I really appreciated that within this book. This was a different read than I was expecting, much more poetic as it wove the story of Antarctic explorer Admiral Richard Byrd with her writings about her son. While the writing was poetic and kept me reading, at times it was difficult to follow her train of thought as her takeaways or points of connection between the explorer and her experience seemed so personal and specific that I couldn’t always understand.

Her son was diagnosed with Down Syndrome and Autism and I found most helpful her writings about receiving the diagnosis and being asked ‘What age do you think your son is developmentally?’ by a professional. The complexity of an individual and giving an answer for something so unanswerable increased my compassion for parents on the other side of an evaluation that is often part of my job.

My favorite lines about the diagnosis were the following:
‘As Dr. M observed Gabriel and took extensive notes about his development, going back in time to gestation, we were really progressing to a truth I had known all along, that his autism was as old as he was, that it had accompanied us all this way, unacknowledged but nevertheless there. So much there in fact that its cumulative effect seemed greater than that of Down Syndrome. In the realm of brainstorms, it was, within Gabriel, a more potent system. Some parents of children on the spectrum have told me how limiting they find the diagnosis, that the act of naming the mystery doesn’t bring enlightenment or relief and instead can mean that their child is rigidly perceived by other people, especially school staff. When Dr. M confirmed Gabriel’s autism, however, my response was the antithesis of what I’d experienced when Dr. P first gave the diagnosis, this time I was accepting. Before we knew what to call it, autism had actually felt more dangerous. Now it was quieter, smaller. Still a gyre with a wide-open eye, but the storm had a name.’


50 Books, 50 States -- Rhode Island
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