Another heart-rending entry in the recent rush of memoirs from autistics and/or their mothers (Catherine Maurice's Let Me Hear Your Voice, p. 576, etc.). Much progress has been made recently in diagnosing and treating autism, but not nearly enough to ease the suffering of the children and family vividly described here. McDonnell's son, Paul, is a high-functioning autistic, more socially capable, less prone to rages, with some emotional responsiveness—which, in some ways, may have made his condition even more difficult for his family. Doctors and other specialists, misled by Paul's responsiveness, missed the diagnosis; most favored in Paul's early years was the catchall label of ``learning disabled.'' But McDonnell (Women's Studies/Carleton College) wasn't satisfied when she discovered that Paul's repetitive behaviors—including fascination with light- switches and numbers, as well as resistance to language—were characteristic of autism. The author writes of her side of the story with brutal honesty and some insight. Frustrated, frightened, and stressed even further by the arrival of a baby daughter with (mild) cerebral palsy, the household seemed dominated by anger: Shouting matches at the dinner table were frequent. But whether living in England, Ireland, or Minnesota, the McDonnells never stopped trying to find help for Paul—and Paul never stopped trying to fit himself into the ``normal'' world. Autism is a familiar syndrome, thanks to the movie The Rain Man (which helped Paul accept that he wasn't ``normal''); moreover, nationwide efforts have been made to educate adults and children about people with this handicap. Still, the amount of cruelty—both intentional and accidental—inflicted on Paul by peers, teachers, and even therapists is striking. In an afterword, Paul, now a college student aiming for a career in meteorology, describes some of that heartbreak. A paean to perseverance that's rich in personal detail but short on new information or helpful strategies. (Eight pages of b&w photographs—not seen)
Pub Date: Sept. 23, 1993
ISBN: 0-395-60574-1
Page Count: 384
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 15, 1993
From the national correspondent for PBS's MacNeil-Lehrer Newshour: a moving memoir of her youth in the Deep South and her role in desegregating the Univ. of Georgia. The eldest daughter of an army chaplain, Hunter-Gault was born in what she calls the ``first of many places that I would call `my place' ''—the small village of Due West, tucked away in a remote little corner of South Carolina. While her father served in Korea, Hunter-Gault and her mother moved first to Covington, Georgia, and then to Atlanta. In ``L.A.'' (lovely Atlanta), surrounded by her loving family and a close-knit black community, the author enjoyed a happy childhood participating in activities at church and at school, where her intellectual and leadership abilities soon were noticed by both faculty and peers. In high school, Hunter-Gault found herself studying the ``comic-strip character Brenda Starr as I might have studied a journalism textbook, had there been one.'' Determined to be a journalist, she applied to several colleges—all outside of Georgia, for ``to discourage the possibility that a black student would even think of applying to one of those white schools, the state provided money for black students'' to study out of state. Accepted at Michigan's Wayne State, the author was encouraged by local civil-rights leaders to apply, along with another classmate, to the Univ. of Georgia as well. Her application became a test of changing racial attitudes, as well as of the growing strength of the civil-rights movement in the South, and Gault became a national figure as she braved an onslaught of hostilities and harassment to become the first black woman to attend the university. A remarkably generous, fair-minded account of overcoming some of the biggest, and most intractable, obstacles ever deployed by southern racists. (Photographs—not seen.)
Pub Date: Nov. 1, 1992
ISBN: 0-374-17563-2
Page Count: 192
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 1, 1992
Necessarily swift and adumbrative as well as inclusive, focused, and graceful.
A light-speed tour of (mostly) Western poetry, from the 4,000-year-old Gilgamesh to the work of Australian poet Les Murray, who died in 2019.
In the latest entry in the publisher’s Little Histories series, Carey, an emeritus professor at Oxford whose books include What Good Are the Arts? and The Unexpected Professor: An Oxford Life in Books, offers a quick definition of poetry—“relates to language as music relates to noise. It is language made special”—before diving in to poetry’s vast history. In most chapters, the author deals with only a few writers, but as the narrative progresses, he finds himself forced to deal with far more than a handful. In his chapter on 20th-century political poets, for example, he talks about 14 writers in seven pages. Carey displays a determination to inform us about who the best poets were—and what their best poems were. The word “greatest” appears continually; Chaucer was “the greatest medieval English poet,” and Langston Hughes was “the greatest male poet” of the Harlem Renaissance. For readers who need a refresher—or suggestions for the nightstand—Carey provides the best-known names and the most celebrated poems, including Paradise Lost (about which the author has written extensively), “Kubla Khan,” “Ozymandias,” “The Charge of the Light Brigade,” Wordsworth and Coleridge’s Lyrical Ballads, which “changed the course of English poetry.” Carey explains some poetic technique (Hopkins’ “sprung rhythm”) and pauses occasionally to provide autobiographical tidbits—e.g., John Masefield, who wrote the famous “Sea Fever,” “hated the sea.” We learn, as well, about the sexuality of some poets (Auden was bisexual), and, especially later on, Carey discusses the demons that drove some of them, Robert Lowell and Sylvia Plath among them. Refreshingly, he includes many women in the volume—all the way back to Sappho—and has especially kind words for Marianne Moore and Elizabeth Bishop, who share a chapter.
Necessarily swift and adumbrative as well as inclusive, focused, and graceful.Pub Date: April 21, 2020
ISBN: 978-0-300-23222-6
Page Count: 304
Publisher: Yale Univ.
Review Posted Online: Feb. 8, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2020
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