![\"Cover](\"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-content\/uploads\/the-real-boy-300x453.jpeg\")
<\/a>\t\n\t![](\"http:\/\/corinneduyvis.net\/images\/logo-bookshop.svg\"){kind=logo}
\n\t\t\t\tBUY ON BOOKSHOP<\/span>\n\t\t\t\tBOOKSHOP<\/span>\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t& support independent bookstores\n\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t<\/a>\n\t<\/article> \n\n\t<\/center><\/div>The Real Boy<\/em>, a middle grade secondary-world fantasy novel, features an eleven-year-old boy named Oscar who works as a hand to his town\u2019s most powerful magician. Although the townspeople call Oscar simple<\/em> and not quite right,<\/em> he has a comfortable routine, living in the basement of the magician\u2019s store and gathering and cutting all kinds of herbs for use in decoctions. Secretly, however, Oscar can read, and sneaks to the library at night to learn more about the herbs he works with.<\/p>\nDue to the book\u2019s fantasy setting, Oscar is never called<\/em> autistic, but it\u2019s confirmed by the author and, well, really obvious. Oscar avoids eye contact, doesn\u2019t understand social niceties, is bluntly honest, has an extremely limited diet, values routine, infodumps about his special interests, goes non-verbal when stressed, and more. Refreshingly, however, the book is written solidly from Oscar\u2019s perspective; rather than gawking at his oddities from an outside viewpoint or using a detached narrative voice to indicate \u201cthe autistic mind,\u201d the book lets us in on Oscar\u2019s thought processes and emotions, thoroughly normalizing his behavior.<\/p>\n One example of this is that Oscar often isn\u2019t aware that he stands out. For example, his avoidance of eye contact is questioned by other characters even when the narrative hasn\u2019t yet told us about it. This rang wonderfully true to me. While many autistic people become extra aware of their behaviors given other people’s focus on said behaviors, at that point, Oscar hasn’t had many interactions with other people. It makes complete sense he wouldn’t notice\u2014this is his normal, after all. Another example: throughout the book Oscar is often mentioned as eating bread, but only toward the end does it become explicit that he barely eats anything but<\/em> bread, and struggles with other foods and structures. Before that, it\u2019s not relevant. Similarly, the way he lives through routine is sometimes highlighted, and sometimes subtly indicated through the use of repeated phrases, such as Oscar dusting the shelves each morning \u201cin case any dirt had accumulated overnight,\u201d<\/em> then surveying the store and \u201crestocking whatever needed restocking.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n For years, Oscar has lived in the store’s basement and interacted with few people aside from the magician and the magician\u2019s apprentice. As the plot kicks in, Oscar is put in charge of the store. With the new people he now interacts with pointing out his strangeness, Oscar becomes increasingly, uncomfortably aware of being different\u2014something he knew before, but which never affected him as it does now. A new friend, Callie, helps him by teaching him stock phrases to use in the store. While this proves helpful, it isn\u2019t portrayed as a cure-all, a fabulous improvement, or the book\u2019s end goal; it\u2019s a practical tool, nothing more, and Oscar is shown as reaching for these phrases even in situations where they don\u2019t apply. I found this last part particularly recognizable, and an element of learning scripts that I’ve rarely seen in books.<\/p>\n I was intrigued by Oscar using certain coping mechanisms despite not understanding his condition. When he wakes from a dream, he \u201chad to talk himself slowly back into this world, counting its structures and boundaries and steady, sure things<\/em>.\u201d He tries to identify footsteps as he approaches a room \u201cso he could prepare himself<\/em>.\u201d When Callie takes him to an unfamiliar place, he asks, \u201cCan you tell me what\u2019s going to happen?\u201d<\/em> It’s nice seeing an autistic character who has picked up these slight bits of self-knowledge\/agency over time, even if it’s subconscious. There were also elements, such as Oscar talking to his cats, which could be interpreted in multiple ways. Is he lonely? Is he processing information? Both?<\/p>\n Another intriguing element was Oscar\u2019s past. Oscar doesn\u2019t remember much of his life before the magician\u2019s shop, and we only see it in flashes\u2014severely discomforting ones, hinting at abuse. \u201cBodiless hands grabbed his chin and forced it up: Look me in the eye, boy.<\/span><\/em>\u201d This is reminiscent of dodgy real-life attitudes to and treatments of people with autism, and I was glad to see the narrative strongly disapproving. There\u2019s little doubt in my mind Ursu knew exactly what she was doing here.<\/p>\n I bookmarked dozens of passages that struck me: things like Oscar\u2019s interaction with people negatively affecting his functioning\u2014\u201cthey said the strangest things, and the words jumbled up in Oscar\u2019s head and he couldn\u2019t put them in the right order. They asked for things, and Oscar dropped vials and tore the packets he\u2019d so carefully prepared. His hands had turned into bread loaves.\u201d<\/em> Things like Oscar knowing when he\u2019s right and relentlessly correcting people. Answering sarcastic questions in all seriousness. Noticing patterns in square tiles and a pile of wood scraps; tapping his foot in a steady rhythm; tensing up in new environments with lots of sensory input. (\u201cThere were so many sounds; he had no attention left for anything else.\u201d)<\/em> How Oscar gets absorbed in his work and longs for its comfort when stressed\u2014and how this is portrayed as positive coping\/soothing method, rather than a crutch or a way for him to hide. How Oscar is sometimes so overloaded that he becomes non-verbal, or can take hours to process new information. Once, Oscar is so focused on details that he can\u2019t see the bigger picture. This was a consistent problem for me as a child and teenager, and I was delighted to see it mentioned\u2014it\u2019s the kind of lesser-known symptom that many people miss.<\/p>\n I also really enjoyed the book’s humor, which was never at Oscar\u2019s expense but still acknowledges that autism can be funny. After Callie teaches Oscar the polite way to correct someone, he can\u2019t help but emphasize just how<\/em> incorrect it was. (I feel you, Oscar. People being wrong is the worst.)<\/p>\n Or this exchange, in which Oscar is inflexible, but so is the person he’s conversing with:<\/p>\n \u201cI need Caleb,\u201d said the healer. This following bit, which takes place early in the book, made me gasp in recognition and filled me with hope that I was in good hands with Ursu:<\/p>\n \u201cShe won\u2019t know the difference.\u201d The way he can\u2019t just let it rest, won\u2019t accept empty reassurances, how he has to know what will or might happen in all possible circumstances\u2014yes, yes, yes.<\/p>\n Another element that struck me is this next passage. After Oscar is driven to desperation about how different he is, someone responds:<\/p>\n \u201c\u2026 you\u2019ll find that no one is quite right. But we all do the best we can.\u201d People regularly think the solution to problems with autism is to dismiss it, to set us at ease by saying that everyone<\/em> is a little different. I loved that it was acknowledged that this doesn\u2019t work<\/em>.<\/p>\n I can go on with these details, but what it comes down to is that I love that Oscar is neither a \u201cTV autistic\u201d with one or two popular symptoms and no understanding of how far-ranging autism can be, nor a checklist of symptoms. The latter is a criticism I\u2019ve seen in other reviews of The Real Boy<\/em> that, after some thought, I disagree with. The problem with the \u201cchecklist approach\u201d is that those traits are often superficially tacked on. In my opinion, the above elements are simply woven in as part of Oscar\u2019s personality and perceptions. It feels nuanced, authentic, and three-dimensional.<\/p>\n I do see where the criticism comes from, and it brings up an interesting question: when dealing with a condition that touches so much of our lives, where do we draw that line? It\u2019s true that most of Oscar\u2019s prominent traits can be traced back to his autism. At the same time, autism isn\u2019t something separable\u2014and how we react to our autism is part of our personality as much as anything else. A dozen autistic kids in Oscar\u2019s situation would react a dozen different ways. While Oscar responds to his situation with agonizing self-doubt, someone else might overcompensate. Oscar leaps to action when there are injuries he may be able to treat, while others might freeze up from terror. Oscar goes non-verbal after stressful discoveries, while someone else might react via screaming or aggression. The criticism also skips over elements that didn\u2019t feel particularly easy to relate to his autism\u2014such as his sense of humor (rare in autistic characters), his love of cats, and how he sneaks out at night because he wants to learn.<\/p>\n Much of Oscar\u2019s narrative arc concerns his autism\u2014specifically, his insecurity over being different. Although it was painful to read, it felt true to his situation, and I liked that the effects of not being understood and not understanding oneself were shown with brutal honesty. Additionally, Oscar\u2019s insecurity seems more about this lack of (self and outside) understanding than about the immediate effects of his autism, which I love. Autism is often portrayed as non-stop, inherent suffering, but for many people, our difficulties come from all kinds of “secondary sources.” In Oscar\u2019s case, he compares himself to other people and ends up feeling different and lacking, like he\u2019s \u201cnot a person.\u201d This matches ableist ideas of autism\u2014our humanity is often questioned\u2014and unfortunately probably matches many autistic people\u2019s fears, particularly pre-diagnosis. (Important is that the narrative never agrees with Oscar\u2019s self-assessment.)<\/p>\n Near the end, Oscar muses on wanting to embrace Callie and look her in the eye the way others can, but only touches her arm with his index finger. It\u2019s not seen as a sign of him \u201cimproving\u201d or being \u201cless autistic,\u201d nor as a tragic show of Oscar\u2019s inability to connect, nor is it gawked at as incredibly touching (which people often do to me when I\u2019m more affectionate than usual, and which reeks of inspiration porn). Personally, I spent years pinky hugging my best friend because I couldn\u2019t handle a proper hug, and I liked it for exactly what it was: a simple, small gesture of affection that\u2019s within Oscar\u2019s abilities. Furthermore, he\u2019s genuinely kind and empathetic\u2014toward his cats, toward sick children\u2014which I was particularly glad to see because autistic people are so often assumed to lack empathy. Heck, many of us are extra<\/em> sensitive. This seems to be true for Oscar at times, too: one act of cruelty shocks him so much he finds himself in tears.<\/p>\n After all this raving, there are<\/em> some elements that gave me pause, in particular a plot element that occurs about halfway through.<\/p>\n Spoilers to follow.<\/strong><\/p>\n At this point, Oscar is increasingly uncertain about why he is the way he is. He stumbles on a wooden doll hidden in the magician\u2019s home. Putting together several bits of information he found earlier in the book, he comes to the conclusion that the magician is animating wooden dolls\u2014and that Oscar is the result of this, created to serve the magician and thus not human.<\/p>\n From the beginning, I suspected this assumption was false, largely because I\u2019m certain I would\u2019ve seen more troubled reviews otherwise. And, yes, after several dozen pages of angst, Oscar is proven to be fully human and simply different. I let out a breath of relief and went back to loving the book. Had I been reading for fun, though, without having the information that I did, I worry I might have put the book down.<\/p>\n On one hand, this element fits the world, the plot, and Oscar\u2019s situation. It shows the despair undiagnosed autistic people can feel from never fitting in and never understanding why. On the other hand, several dozen pages of stomach-twisting unease left me with a bad aftertaste. Autism is so often associated with being not quite human, with being magical and otherworldly, that this explicit comparison to a magical, inhuman being leaves me worried that readers less knowledgeable about autism and disability representation might not grasp the way Ursu played with this trope. I can easily imagine people taking it at face value and being in complete agreement that Oscar is, indeed, not quite human, and that his suspicions were perfectly understandable despite being proven incorrect.<\/p>\n In other words, I\u2019m conflicted. I\u2019d love to hear from other autistic people how they felt about this element.<\/p>\n Another element that bugged me was the line \u201cso this was what it felt like to be angry,\u201d<\/em> which reminded me of other autistic characters introduced to certain negative emotions at a later age (such as seventeen-year-old Marcelo in Marcelo in the Real World<\/em> having never known confusion before). There\u2019s a difference between naivet\u00e9 and simplifying a character\u2019s emotional landscape. The latter bothers me immensely given how often disabled people are infantilized.<\/p>\n There were other details I wasn\u2019t quite sure about, largely relating to consistency in terms of his presentation, but those are minor quibbles. The book did so much else right that I\u2019m happy to either feel like I missed something or to take those potential inconsistencies as simply part and parcel of human fickleness.<\/p>\n Overall, I loved this book. Since Oscar\u2019s emotional arc is at the heart of the story, The Real Boy<\/em> feels to me like an \u201cautism book\u201d in some ways\u2014even if it never says the word, and even if the external plot is about wizard trees and disappearing magic and sick kids and a boy learning to tend a shop. While \u201cautism books\u201d are often maligned, I think they\u2019re still necessary. We have very few that get it this right, after all.<\/p>\n On top of that, The Real Boy<\/em> is beautifully written, with a wonderfully thoughtful plot. Give this book a try; you won\u2019t regret it.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Insecure autistic boy meets thoughtful, magical adventure: The Real Boy<\/em> is now my go-to recommendation when people ask for books with autistic protagonists.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":2042,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_generate-full-width-content":"","kt_blocks_editor_width":""},"categories":[62,522],"tags":[140,63,173],"genre":[9],"age_category":[6],"disability":[7],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2041"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2041"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2041\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6880,"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2041\/revisions\/6880"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2042"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2041"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2041"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2041"},{"taxonomy":"genre","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/genre?post=2041"},{"taxonomy":"age_category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/age_category?post=2041"},{"taxonomy":"disability","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/disabilityinkidlit.com\/test\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/disability?post=2041"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n\u201cHe\u2019s not here,\u201d Oscar said.
\n\u201cBut I need him,\u201d she said.
\n\u201cBut he\u2019s not here,\u201d Oscar repeated.
\n\u201cBut I need him.\u201d
\n\u201cBut \u2026 he\u2019s not here.\u201d Oscar frowned. This seemed like it could go on for some time.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
\n\u201cBut \u2026 what if she does?\u201d The words popped out of Oscar\u2019s mouth before he could stop them. He could not help it\u2014they were fluttering around his head and needed to get out.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
\nOscar looked down. He was not like everyone else. And the more that people did not see him for what he was, the more alone he was.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n