Friday, July 22, 2022

The Speed Of Dark

Is a book written by Elizabeth Moon about an autistic man as he debates where he will take “the cure” that will make him “Normal.” It reminded me of the debate in college when the Cochlear implants were still in the experimental phase. I went to college at Rochester Institute of Technology and on campus was the National Technical Institute for the Deaf, every class had an interpreter and a note taker, one of things that I learned from deaf friends was that debate whether they would have an implant. So saw it as denial of their heritage while others saw it as an escape to the “normal” world.

In Goodreads about the book one of the comments was;

I may need to review my top-ten shelf and see what can be bumped. "The Speed of Dark" book moved me like few books ever have. I cried, I laughed, I didn't want it to end. Elizabeth Moon does an absolutely amazing job of making a reader walk many miles in someone else's shoes. In this case, the reader becomes Lou Arrendale, an autistic man in an era when autism can be cured in childhood. Unfortunately, he was born too soon for the treatment. A new treatment is developed for adult autists and he has to decide whether or not to participate in the clinical trials. At the end, I don't know that I agreed with his decision, but I understood it.

I now understand the term "genre ghetto". I think this book should be more widely read, but it probably won't be because it's classified as science fiction. Believe me, it's not a space opera or a tech-geek novel, it's a novel with real heart that would appeal even to those who never set foot in the science fiction/fantasy section of the bookstore.

BINGO!

That resonated with a thought question in the trans community… “If you could take a pill to “cure” you of being trans, would you take it?”

I imagine that every marginalized community asks the same question if they could do something that creates a way out of the community would you do it?

But then there was another commenter on Goodreads that said in part,

Oh man. This book started out incredibly promising. The autistic first-person narrator is believable and authentic, and when an experimental cure for autism is acquired by the company he works for, the ethical ramifications are gripping and frightening. I mean, when people see autism as an illness, something to be cured, then resisting treatment is obvious grounds for firing someone. So I really wanted to see where the writer would take this.

If there were a cure for being trans and you don’t take it would it mean that you are no longer protected under non-discrimination laws? Could a company fire you for not taking the “cure?”

I picked this book out because the author is a well-know science fiction writer and I just finished listening to a couple of her book and this books write up sounded interesting,  

In the near future, disease will be a condition of the past. Most genetic defects will be removed at birth; the remaining during infancy. Unfortunately, there will be a generation left behind…

So I bought the audiobook.

As I started to listen to the book I thought “What is this, it is not science fiction!” but I started getting drawn into the book and I started seeing the similarities between what the protagonist was going through and the trans community.

Then one commenter connected the dots.

Moon has an autistic son, which clearly informed her writing of this book. The Speed of Dark tells the story of Lou Arrendale, an autistic man living in a near future very similar to our own time. The back of the book blurb focuses on:

"…an experimental “cure” for his condition. Now Lou must decide if he should submit to a surgery that may change the way he views the world–and the very essence of who he is."

But the book is so much more. This isn’t an action or adventure novel, and the treatments and potential cure for autism is pretty much the only real SF element in the story.

The most powerful thing, to me, is the way Moon brings you into Lou’s perspective:

It is hard to drive safely in the hot afternoon, with the wrong music in my head. Light flashed off windshields, bumpers, trim; there are too many flashing lights. By the time I get home, my head hurts and I’m shaking. I take the pillows off my couch into the bedroom, closing all the shades tightly and then the door. I lie down, piling the pillow on top of me, then turn off the light.

[…]

Moon shows many of the challenges Lou faces, both the internal and the external. A new supervisor wants to eliminate the “special accommodations” Lou and his unit receive at work. A man from Lou’s fencing group blames Lou for his problems, accusing people like him of stealing jobs from “normal” people. (Sound familiar? Much of this book could be set in today’s world.)

And then there’s the potential cure, the chance for Lou to be normal, whatever that means. Moon does a decent job of exploring the moral messiness and complexities of “curing” autism, though I would have liked to see more of this part. Should we cure someone who’s able to function? What about someone we define as low-functioning? How many of the challenges autistic people face are inherent to the condition, and how many of those challenges are externally created?

My thoughts on taking the “cure” is no.

Life is hard being trans, it is not easy with all the little microaggressions faced every day but it would make me someone not who I am. Most of my accomplishes would be meaningless, I would be denying my heritage. 

The Speed of Dark is a book that makes you think. Lou is a wonderful, sympathetic, beautiful protagonist. This isn’t a plot-oriented, action-packed book, but it’s one I definitely recommend reading.

So lets start a discussion… would you take a “cure” to make you normal our would that be denying who you are?

1 comment:

  1. When I was a young child, I would lie in bed praying that I'd wake up in the morning a girl. Later, I would pray that, if I couldn't wake up as the girl I wanted to be, could I, at least, have this desire completely erased from my mind and being? No answer to my prayers ever came, so I tried to erase it myself. I was successful in doing so between the ages of 17 and 34, although with much determination and stress. I would have taken the pill up until then, and maybe even a few years after I succumbed to the desire. I never really stopped praying, but my prayers changed to a request that I could just be who I felt I was without hurting anyone else in the process. I had, after all, created the lifestyle of a married man with children.

    One day, when I was locked up in my basement office, I prayed for guidance on how to either live my life as a woman or as the man, husband, and father I was, by then, though finding it difficult to do successfully. No divine was offered, but I did hear a voice, telling me that everything would be OK and that I was OK being just who I was (Take that, evangelicals; God spoke directly to me!) So, no pill! I had invested way too much time and energy building the strange, but wonderful, life I was living. Actually, I don't believe I would have married my wife had I been "cured" of my gender dysphoria, and I doubt she would have seen me as marriage material had it not been for my hidden-but-present female side. Fifty years later, though, we're still married, albeit two women now.

    Some pills may be harder to swallow than others. We each need only to find our individual prescriptions.

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