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A History of Autism: Conversations with the Pioneers
This unique book is the first to fully explore the history of autism - from the first descriptions of autistic-type behaviour to the present day.
400 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2010
6 people are currently reading
99 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
June 15, 2012
I tend to have problems with the "great men of history" way of thinking about the past, but I still enjoyed this author's approach. He's gone around the world interviewing people involved in the autism world in some way- doctors, activists, parents, and even some people who are actually diagnosed. Using these interviews, as well as the papers associated with some of the "pioneers" (Kanner, Asperger, Bettleheim, and other big autism world makers). He also does something relatively unusual by taking pictures of everybody he speaks to and including the pictures in the book. This was an interesting device because often he is talking about people who have done things many years ago, and then including a picture of them in their current older age. I'm not really sure what the intention was, but it was a device that I ended up liking a lot; learning about someone while you're looking at their face makes them feel very familiar. He also does not shy away for calling people out for having participated in really messed up practices. I'm giving this three stars rather than five, mainly because I liked the book, but I wasn't in a rush to finish it. I definitely appreciate the historical rather than medical approach, and I hope it's something that other people add onto.
October 30, 2013
I am currently doing research on autism education, so I have been reading a lot of books about autism. A History of Autism is an ideal starting place for those interested in the background of the disorder, when it was first identified and how definitions and interventions have been developed over time. I referenced the book in my literature review, as it really contains the most thorough history of autism that I have encountered thus far.
It's not necessarily directed at scholars, it is targeted at any reader who is interested in autism. Best of all, it provides an excellent point of reference for those in the field, to find out whose work to consult.
It's not necessarily directed at scholars, it is targeted at any reader who is interested in autism. Best of all, it provides an excellent point of reference for those in the field, to find out whose work to consult.
January 19, 2026
I read A History of Autism with mixed admiration and growing unease. As an autistic adult, and as someone who spends a frankly unhealthy amount of time reading autism literature, I recognize this book for what it tries to be: a humane, balanced, historically grounded account of how autism became a field. But good intentions and historical scope do not automatically produce conceptual clarity—and that is where this book begins to falter.
Adam Feinstein repeatedly emphasizes complexity, famously stating that “many academics would argue that we are not talking about a single disease” and that autism may consist of “dozens of different diseases, each related to a specific medical condition.” On the surface, this sounds nuanced. In practice, however, the book often replaces analytical rigor with accumulation: voices pile up, perspectives multiply, but the reader is rarely offered a clear epistemic framework for weighing them against each other.
The method—“conversations with the pioneers”—is both the book’s strength and its Achilles’ heel. Feinstein positions himself as a listener rather than an interpreter. He documents rather than adjudicates. That choice leads to passages where deeply consequential claims are presented with little critical resistance. When psychoanalytic missteps, diagnostic confusion, or outright scientific dead ends are discussed, they are often softened by tone rather than dissected by argument. History is shown, but rarely judged.
Take this moment early on: “Autism is one of the most complex of all psychological disorders.” This sentence is emblematic of the book’s conceptual drift. Autism is repeatedly framed as psychological, medical, neurological, social—sometimes all at once, sometimes interchangeably. The lack of terminological discipline matters. Complexity is not an excuse for category confusion, yet the book often treats it as such.
The handling of Hans Asperger is another example. Feinstein goes to great lengths to nuance allegations of Nazi collaboration, quoting Asperger’s own words rejecting the idea of a “worthless life” and emphasizing his protective stance toward disabled children. This contextualization is valuable. But it also reveals a deeper pattern: moral rehabilitation sometimes substitutes for structural analysis. The real question is not whether Asperger was “good” or “bad,” but how medical authority functioned within authoritarian systems—and how diagnostic language can both protect and endanger lives. That question is touched, not pursued.
Feinstein frequently insists that myths must be challenged, yet he reproduces one of the most persistent ones himself: that listening to enough experts eventually produces truth. At one point he writes, “Nothing is totally original. Everyone is influenced by what’s gone before.” True—but also dangerously convenient. Influence is not the same as validity, and lineage is not evidence.
What is most striking, from a contemporary autistic perspective, is how marginal autistic epistemology remains. Autistic adults appear—Temple Grandin, Donna Williams—but largely as illustrative figures, not as theorists. Autism is still something explained about us, not with us. The chapter titles may evolve toward “Autism from Within,” but the center of gravity never quite shifts.
This is why the book now feels dated in a way that goes beyond publication year. Not because science moved on, but because the politics of knowledge did. Feinstein documents “continuing confusions and ignorance,” yet remains curiously reluctant to name the structural reasons those confusions persist: professional turf wars, diagnostic economies, and the chronic exclusion of autistic people from defining their own condition.
To be clear: this is an important book. It is careful, readable, and historically rich. But it is not neutral—and pretending that neutrality is possible is itself a position. A History of Autism tells us how the field came to be. It does not fully reckon with what the field has done, whom it has served best, or whose voices were filtered out along the way.
If you read this book, read it as a map of power, not just progress. Read it with a pencil. And read it knowing that history, like autism itself, looks very different depending on where you stand.
Adam Feinstein repeatedly emphasizes complexity, famously stating that “many academics would argue that we are not talking about a single disease” and that autism may consist of “dozens of different diseases, each related to a specific medical condition.” On the surface, this sounds nuanced. In practice, however, the book often replaces analytical rigor with accumulation: voices pile up, perspectives multiply, but the reader is rarely offered a clear epistemic framework for weighing them against each other.
The method—“conversations with the pioneers”—is both the book’s strength and its Achilles’ heel. Feinstein positions himself as a listener rather than an interpreter. He documents rather than adjudicates. That choice leads to passages where deeply consequential claims are presented with little critical resistance. When psychoanalytic missteps, diagnostic confusion, or outright scientific dead ends are discussed, they are often softened by tone rather than dissected by argument. History is shown, but rarely judged.
Take this moment early on: “Autism is one of the most complex of all psychological disorders.” This sentence is emblematic of the book’s conceptual drift. Autism is repeatedly framed as psychological, medical, neurological, social—sometimes all at once, sometimes interchangeably. The lack of terminological discipline matters. Complexity is not an excuse for category confusion, yet the book often treats it as such.
The handling of Hans Asperger is another example. Feinstein goes to great lengths to nuance allegations of Nazi collaboration, quoting Asperger’s own words rejecting the idea of a “worthless life” and emphasizing his protective stance toward disabled children. This contextualization is valuable. But it also reveals a deeper pattern: moral rehabilitation sometimes substitutes for structural analysis. The real question is not whether Asperger was “good” or “bad,” but how medical authority functioned within authoritarian systems—and how diagnostic language can both protect and endanger lives. That question is touched, not pursued.
Feinstein frequently insists that myths must be challenged, yet he reproduces one of the most persistent ones himself: that listening to enough experts eventually produces truth. At one point he writes, “Nothing is totally original. Everyone is influenced by what’s gone before.” True—but also dangerously convenient. Influence is not the same as validity, and lineage is not evidence.
What is most striking, from a contemporary autistic perspective, is how marginal autistic epistemology remains. Autistic adults appear—Temple Grandin, Donna Williams—but largely as illustrative figures, not as theorists. Autism is still something explained about us, not with us. The chapter titles may evolve toward “Autism from Within,” but the center of gravity never quite shifts.
This is why the book now feels dated in a way that goes beyond publication year. Not because science moved on, but because the politics of knowledge did. Feinstein documents “continuing confusions and ignorance,” yet remains curiously reluctant to name the structural reasons those confusions persist: professional turf wars, diagnostic economies, and the chronic exclusion of autistic people from defining their own condition.
To be clear: this is an important book. It is careful, readable, and historically rich. But it is not neutral—and pretending that neutrality is possible is itself a position. A History of Autism tells us how the field came to be. It does not fully reckon with what the field has done, whom it has served best, or whose voices were filtered out along the way.
If you read this book, read it as a map of power, not just progress. Read it with a pencil. And read it knowing that history, like autism itself, looks very different depending on where you stand.
March 10, 2021
A nice overview over the history of autism with a huge bibliography in the appendix which helps to dive deeper into the subject. On the negative side there are quite a few spelling errors and other mistakes like missing words or words in the wrong order.
Want to read
September 30, 2022Recommended in Rodas' Autistic Disturbances.
July 18, 2021
Адам Файнщайн е журналист, писател и родител на момче с диагнозата аутизъм. Съдбата го свързва с богата дама, която наскоро е загубила порасналото си дете, което е страдало от същото разстройство. Тя му възлага нестандартна поръчка - да се срещне с всеки значим експерт, работещ на полето на аутизма, преди тези големи умове да са си заминали от този свят и да са отнесли със себе си част от своите знания, опит, интуиции и открития. Паралелно с това богатата дама дарява огромна сума за научни изследвания. Амбицията ѝ е до наколко години (защото предполага, че и нейният край не е далеч) да се постигне значим пробив в тази област - да бъде открита истинската причина, да бъдат открити ефективни медикаменти или работещи терапии. Знаем съдбата на тази благородна кауза, оказала се твърде амбициозна. Въпреки пробивите тук и там аутизмът се оказва много по-костелив орех, отколкото много хора са си представяли. Днес го наричат “пъзелът на аутизма” - необходимо е да вложиш огромно количество време и сили, докато твоят пъзел започне да придобива някакъв вид, докато започне да се избистря общата картина. Файнщайн се справя със задачата си блестящо. Разговаря не само с учени от цял свят, но и с всеки, който е постигнал нещо значимо - лекари, терапевти, автори, родители и родителски асоциации. За да почерпи най-достоверната информация за пионерите на аутизма, работили в средата на миналия век (повечето вече покойници), Файнщайн разговаря с техни роднини, ученици или по-млади колеги. Може и да не успява да сглоби много от пъзела на самия аутизъм, но го прави по отношение на опитите на цивилизованото общество да стигне до обективната истина. С тази книга пъзелът, наречен “История на аутизма” в голяма степен може да се приеме за подреден.
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