Susan Senator

I am a Narnia addict, ever since I plowed through the books as a nine-year-old, while my parents set up our campsite on the Green River in Utah. Sometimes I was so mesmerized by the books that I could not look up, from the backseat of my parents’ paneled Ford stationwagon, even though we were visiting wonders of the world like the Grand Tetons or the Grand Canyon.

I particularly loved The Horse and His Boy, the fifth book of the series (or the third, depending on how you look at The Lion,the Witch and the Wardrobe: first or second? It had a particularly sweet quality to it, with the two main characters, Bree (the horse), and Shasta (the boy). The animals were more prominent characters than the humans, and Lewis draws them deftly and with his usual wit and innocence.

We all love to escape to our “own worlds.” So why is it so terrible that many autistics do that too, and even better than us? Or perhaps, those of us who must escape (the way I do, into bellydance costumes and music, or novels or endorphin-release or…) bear the kiss of autism, too?

Escape is very appealing to me. So when a friend of mine mentioned this book to me yesterday, I decided I am going to buy it today. I will try to review it formally, but for now, what struck me was how the father just went off with his autistic son to Mongolia because horses were an interest of the boy’s. The trip was not about fixing his son’s autism, but rather, engaging his son in something he loved. I haven’t seen the book yet, but my friend (my agent, actually, who is always on the lookout for autism books I should read) said, “This is what you believe, too! That all parents should find their own happiness — and their kids’ — and follow that as much as possible. It might mean finding your Outer Mongolia halfway across the world or your Inner Narnia in the backseat of your parents’ car.