Rules by Cynthia Lord

I think Cynthia Lord took on a tough project. First, writing from the perspective of a child or young adult is difficult. Most kids don’t write as adeptly as an adult writer would, and the ones who come close are often too precocious to actually represent how a normal kid thinks or feels. To try to capture a kid’s perspective, an adult has to remember what it was like to be a kid without completely projecting their adult self into the kid’s self-analysis. And then the adult has to write it in such a way that it’s readable and insightful, without sounding precocious and unbelievable. The adult has to become invisible, but still control the action.

Second, it’s tough to write about disabilities. Even describing these disabilities must be difficult because it’s outside our standard experience. Jerky movements or quirky behaviors or voice inflections have to be captured because they can’t be assumed. And then there’s the handling of the subject itself. How do you write about autism or severe physical or mental disabilities? It’s an easy subject to make uncomfortable—not necessarily because of the disability, but because of characters’ feelings and reactions around it. I remember reading a book when I was young which I still remember because from the very beginning you could see it barreling toward embarrassment and hurt and downright meanness, and that prospect (which was fulfilled about halfway through the story) created cloud of discomfort over the entire book.

With all these balances to keep, Rules comes off brilliantly. The rules of the title refer to the list of rules that 12-year-old Catherine has made for her 8-year-old autistic brother David, to help him learn how to act in a world that he does not naturally understand. The book revolves around Catherine’s relationship with her family, with an unexpected new friend, wheelchair-confined and speech-impaired Jason, and with the new girl next door who she desperately wants to befriend. The story has all the potential of lapsing into cliché, but it never does. Lord has an autistic child of her own, and the descriptions of David and Jason make them into individuals rather than stereotypes of a condition. And Catherine has concerns that seem very real for a twelve-year-old. The writing is clear and engaging, as is the story. It was a quick read—perhaps two or three hours, spread over the course of two days—and surprisingly satisfying. I had my doubts about actually purchasing the $15 hardcover book (well, $15 minus my 30% off coupon from Borders)—but turned out to be a wonderful find, and I’m happy to add it to my growing children’s collection.