So, are poets autistic?
I mean, yeah, I knew what Autism was before starting to read/listen to The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime. It is one of those genetic flubs that make me so sad, because without it, it seems so easy to let go of things and be happy. For the record, I want to explain that I have my own sets of problems/neuroses/tics and could not imagine dealing with a bunch more. Since I don’t have this particular genetic peculiarity, it has always been tough to figure out. Mercury Rising was daunting, but as a Bruce Willis movie you just accept that logic may fly the coop, but John McClane’s a badass so all will be well. Mark Haddon’s autistic character was widely praised, and rightly so. The problem is, aside from the groanings and uncontrollable fits the narrator doesn’t sound terribly unlike my own internal monolog, which I’ve learned to translate into poetry form. Here are things that chapters consist of: 1) lists 2) hyper-focusing on one thing to microscopic or distant narrative 3) trying to use logic to understand/explain human behavior 4) tangents (which is really a subcategory of #2).
I feel that, for me at least, my brain kind of works that way in the first place. That the learning of language in elementary school, television, whatever, has taught me to fill in the blanks between the core elements of experience: nouns, verbs, and the barest, most necessary of adjectives. Then learning poetry is learning to strip away that filler again. To return to the images and emotions of the brain.
There isn’t a larger meaning to this post, just an observation. Also, a link to somewhere to buy The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. It’s a really good book. Yes, I’m slow on the bus with this one. Sorry.