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Rogue is one of the rare novels about an autistic character written by an autistic author, and the book raises many intriguing questions to discuss.

Autistic people learn, change, and cope like anyone else. However, when a character is autistic, many authors appear to see only one route for character growth: effectively making the character less autistic.

The book deals in a thought-provoking way with many issues of human interaction; readers’ enjoyment will depend on their tolerance for abuse themes and for protagonists driven to terrible behavior without fully understanding how terrible it is.

This book definitely had its creepy moments, but I think other books have taken the protective older brother trope and did it better—without turning the younger brother into a plot device.

Tommy Smythe disappears one Friday night, and even after weeks of searching he can’t be found. This is the story of a rural community’s search for Tommy, and the complicated social networks created by wrongdoings and secrets in a small town.

My name is Philip and I write to communicate. Authors who write about us should first learn from us; in their stories, they should present us as whole characters with interests and personalities.

An exceptionalist narrative might, at first glance, seem like a positive or even empowering one. But, as it always goes when it comes to depictions of disability, the situation is much more complicated than that.

The book ultimately provides a single-faceted understanding of autism and many of the painful interactions with Willem’s teacher and peers would likely hit too close to home for autistic students.

Like in real life, autism spectrum disorder alone is never the whole story, and Baskin does a good job balancing Jason’s autism with his writing life, family, school, and budding friendship. She’s succeeded in creating an authentic autistic character who is anything but stereotypical.

The “autism voice”—characterized by narrative devices and a detached character voice—tends to portray autistic characters as unworldly, hyper-rational blank slates defined purely by a series of unusual behaviors.

For all that there are moments when Rose’s voice is nuanced and shines, those nuances continuously pushed aside for a far more stereotypical narrative. This is not the story of an autistic character written for an inclusive audience; this is a story about an autistic character written for a neurotypical audience.

When creators render a character into their world wearing an entire suit of autistic behaviors, reactions, and needs, dodging responsibility by denying the autism label only serves to hurt the population they’re representing.

Author Tara Kelly sits down with her newest teen fan to discuss Harmonic Feedback, a young adult novel about a music-loving girl with autism, ADD, and anxiety disorder.

I saw a lot of myself in Drea, and I imagine other autistic folks will be able to do the same. It was so nice to see accurate representation, because as an autistic person, I don’t see that very often.

This book was awarded the National Book Award for Young People’s Literature, but as well intentioned as it might have been, it was clearly written by someone with almost no understanding of what Aspies are really like—it was written by and for a neurotypical audience.

Here is a key insight to creating realistic autistic characters: We do not do the visibly autistic things we do because of “autism,” full stop. Like non-autistic people, we are responding to our experiences of the world. Those experiences simply differ from those of non-autistic people.

As The Real Boy was one of our favorite reads of the year, we couldn’t wait to invite author Anne Ursu over to discuss this wonderful, magical middle grade novel about an autistic boy.

Insecure autistic boy meets thoughtful, magical adventure: The Real Boy is now my go-to recommendation when people ask for books with autistic protagonists.

This is a book about a girl with an autistic brother. The autistic brother is crucial to the plot, but her actual brother is really more of a plot device than anything else.

Being autistic and also belonging to another minority might be one marginalization too many to sell children’s fiction informed by one’s own experience to a mainstream press, and that is a very sad thought.

What I love most about Kiara—and the novel itself—is that she is unflinchingly genuine. Sooner or later, most Aspie characters written by neurotypicals eventually become caricatures. Having an Autistic character written by an actual Aspie makes all the difference.

People like Early do exist, and it’s great to see historical fiction that includes a disabled character, but Early gets a little too close to the trope of the magical or extra-special autistic for my comfort.

As much as I crave representation in fiction, it bothers me that some people seem to see autism as a way to create conflict or add a unique viewpoint to a narrative. It is even more disturbing when so many of these portrayals are inaccurate or incomplete.

A lot of people only see the bad sides of Asperger’s. What they don’t see is that it can have its perks, too. My entire career as an author—which is a very fun one!—is entirely dependent on this condition.