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Parallel Play
Amazon Exclusive: John Elder Robison Reviews Parallel Play
John Elder Robison is a writer, speaker, and advocate. He is the author of Look Me in the Eye: My Life with Asperger’s. Read Robinson's exclusive Amazon guest review of Parallel Play:
John Elder Robison is a writer, speaker, and advocate. He is the author of Look Me in the Eye: My Life with Asperger’s. Read Robinson's exclusive Amazon guest review of Parallel Play:
[image]
The first time I saw Tim Page, I felt a sense of familiarity. He was obviously smart but shy, socially awkward, with a different cadence to his voice. There was an undefined, instinctive "something" that told me Tim was a fellow Aspergian. I feel different and excluded from much human company, but people like Tim are an exception. They are my people. They are me.
Tim says he’s lived life as an outsider, and that’s exactly how I feel too. As a result, even though I’ve grown up to find commercial success, happiness often eludes me. Within minutes of meeting Tim, it was clear he felt the same. Neurotypical people try to welcome us into their world, but Asperger’s blinds us to the olive branches of friendship they proffer. They even shake the leaves in front of our faces, but we just gaze, impassive and oblivious. People assume we’ve rejected them, but in truth we want their friendship and acceptance with every fiber of our being. That’s the heartbreak of it.
Tim’s story illustrates that reality with clear and moving prose. Even when he’s been with people, much of his life has been spent alone. He was always smart, but like me, I wonder what it’s been for. His book shows that genius has its benefits but it’s not a formula for happiness or even general life success. You’ll wonder if his extraordinary abilities are a cause or a result of his isolation. Or are they just more facets of a unique mind?
Anyone with an interest in Asperger’s and the complexity of the human mind will be fascinated by Parallel Play. It will leave you with much to think about.--John Elder Robison
(Photo © Rick Colson)
210 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2009
30 people are currently reading
595 people want to read
About the author
Tim Page
34 books15 followersLibrarian Note: There is more than one author by this name in the Goodreads database.
Tim Page is the author of Dawn Powell: A Biography and the editor of The Diaries of Dawn Powell and Selected Letters of Dawn Powell
He won the 1997 Pulitzer Prize for his music criticism for the The Washington Post.
Tim Page is the author of Dawn Powell: A Biography and the editor of The Diaries of Dawn Powell and Selected Letters of Dawn Powell
He won the 1997 Pulitzer Prize for his music criticism for the The Washington Post.
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August 26, 2010I am the author of "Parallel Play" and thought that my new introduction to the paperback edition might be of interest to readers:
It is now almost two years since I scribbled down the final words of “Parallel Play” at a window table in my favorite Baltimore bar. Initial jubilation was followed by some premonition about the reception that this most personal of my books might receive – from friends, family, colleagues and strangers, who would now know much more about me than I would ever be likely to learn about them. To my relief, the response has been overwhelmingly open-hearted. Any number of longtime personal associations have been clarified and deepened, and I was grateful to find readers comfortable enough to laugh along with my more spectacular moments of teen bravura. Since the publication of “Parallel Play,” I have few secrets that require upkeep: I probably feel as at home in the world as I ever will, and the past is the past.
For this edition, the book’s original, hastily appended subtitle, “Growing Up With Undiagnosed Asperger’s,” has been dropped, as it seemed to suggest that “Parallel Play” was a sort of guidebook or “owner’s manual” for people with autism, something better found elsewhere. Instead, I hope the reader will accept this as a quirky memoir that could have been subtitled “Old Records and Silent Movies,” “Eastern Connecticut in the 1960s” or (to borrow a line from the Three Stooges) “Loco Boy Makes Good.” My condition will quickly become apparent but, as a friend of mine likes to say -- when you’ve met one person with autism…well, you’ve met one person with autism. We are a diverse lot and there are many stories to tell. I have tried to tell mine.
T.P.
It is now almost two years since I scribbled down the final words of “Parallel Play” at a window table in my favorite Baltimore bar. Initial jubilation was followed by some premonition about the reception that this most personal of my books might receive – from friends, family, colleagues and strangers, who would now know much more about me than I would ever be likely to learn about them. To my relief, the response has been overwhelmingly open-hearted. Any number of longtime personal associations have been clarified and deepened, and I was grateful to find readers comfortable enough to laugh along with my more spectacular moments of teen bravura. Since the publication of “Parallel Play,” I have few secrets that require upkeep: I probably feel as at home in the world as I ever will, and the past is the past.
For this edition, the book’s original, hastily appended subtitle, “Growing Up With Undiagnosed Asperger’s,” has been dropped, as it seemed to suggest that “Parallel Play” was a sort of guidebook or “owner’s manual” for people with autism, something better found elsewhere. Instead, I hope the reader will accept this as a quirky memoir that could have been subtitled “Old Records and Silent Movies,” “Eastern Connecticut in the 1960s” or (to borrow a line from the Three Stooges) “Loco Boy Makes Good.” My condition will quickly become apparent but, as a friend of mine likes to say -- when you’ve met one person with autism…well, you’ve met one person with autism. We are a diverse lot and there are many stories to tell. I have tried to tell mine.
T.P.
January 25, 2020
Tim Page and I are the same age and born in the same year. Both of us also had odd childhoods, his due to Asperger's syndrome and mine, to what? Eccentricity? Nevertheless, like my book TOSH, this memoir focuses on one's childhood and teenage years. Both of us were obsessed with silent movies and music. Our tastes are different, but still, I feel like he's a soul brother while reading "Parallel Play." I'm glad that I read his book before I wrote mine. It's really good.
October 5, 2009
As someone who was diagnosed with ADHD in my forties, I can appreciate the feeling of relief it must have been for Tim Page to get a diagnosis/explanation for his "differentness".
That said, his Aspergers shows in the book. It is a memoir of childhood and young adulthood with tons of info about music, which is Page's love and profession. Very little is said about people in his life: parents, wife, children. The reader knows that Tim cares for people. After all, he mourns those lost to him on the anniversary of their deaths and continues to feel they are part of his life.
Since I often see the whole picture in my head and can express but a part of it, I empathize in a small way with his inability to communicate his emotions. Read this and try to understand the many ways of being in this world.
That said, his Aspergers shows in the book. It is a memoir of childhood and young adulthood with tons of info about music, which is Page's love and profession. Very little is said about people in his life: parents, wife, children. The reader knows that Tim cares for people. After all, he mourns those lost to him on the anniversary of their deaths and continues to feel they are part of his life.
Since I often see the whole picture in my head and can express but a part of it, I empathize in a small way with his inability to communicate his emotions. Read this and try to understand the many ways of being in this world.
September 3, 2009
The bare facts of Tim Page’s professional life show that not only has he been tremendously successful, he’s very decidedly followed his own path. His lifelong love of music led to employment as a radio show host, a platform that allowed him to interview many of his living heroes in the arts world. He won a Pulitzer Prize writing as the Washington Post’s classical music critic, a job title he’d coveted since the age of three or four. When he discovered Dawn Powell, then a mainly forgotten author he found he loved, Page got most of her works back in print, edited books of her diaries and letters, and wrote a critically acclaimed biography. Page is now is a music and arts journalism professor at the University of Southern California, an especially impressive accomplishment since he dropped out of high school because it bored him so much he could not force himself pay attention, even when he stuck himself with pins in a futile effort to stay alert.
While high school couldn’t hold his interest, Page has had passions that have brought him attention since he was very young. His fascination with silent movies kept him busy writing, producing and filming his own shaky, black and white versions, using the neighborhood kids as his cast. “A Day with Timmy Page”, a documentary about Page’s movie making, shows Page as a talented, somewhat tyrannical, very young looking 13-year-old charging around shouting stage directions to his friends and yelling “Lights, action, camera!”
While turning the neighborhood kids into movie stars and chasing his passions into adulthood have caused people to admire Page for “thinking outside the box.”, Page confesses early in his newly released memoir Parallel Play that he has never had more than a shadowy, uneasy sense of what those “boxes” are. The boundaries of the boxes are invisible to him, he can’t make out why other people think they are significant, and he’s uncertain how to steer his life around or through them—leaving him with what he describes as an anxious, melancholy feeling that his entire life has been spent in “parallel play”, next to but irrevocably separate from everyone else. At the age of 45 he was finally given a name for his condition—Asperger’s syndrome.
Aspperger’s syndrome is an autism spectrum disorder, though Asperger’s differs from conventional autism in that language and cognitive skills are not much compromised. People with Asperger’s can be brilliant in their chosen fields, and if they are lucky their talents line up with skills that are considered valuable. Some of the traits “Aspies” can have include an abhorrence of changes in routine, the tendency to be easily over stimulated, a knack for being uncoordinated, the inability to effortlessly understand social cues like body language and tone of voice, and an inclination to develop obsessions they become extremely knowledgeable about that are often shared in long winded, one-sided conversations.
Neurodiversity is a relatively new word for the idea that atypical neurological development is a normal human variation. Advocates make the case that neurodiversity is as important for the vitality of human society as biodiversity is for the health of the planet. Neurodiverse Aspies enrich our lives with singular creations and penetrating insights into their fascinations of choice. A Googled list of famous people who may have been Aspies includes Thomas Edison, Albert Einstein, Emily Dickinson, Henry David Thoreau, and Ludwig van Beethoven.
But while many Aspies have made wonderful contributions to the world, it is not always a lot of fun to be one or live with one. Page says that as a child his “memory was so acute and his outlook so bleak” that he was sometimes described as a genius, even though he had difficulty telling left from right, and he continued to absentmindedly wet his pants into adolescence. His peculiar understandings and creative abilities may have been celebrated by the adults in his life, but he was also given any number of medical tests, psychiatric screenings, exercise regimes and medications, all with the goal of curing him.
Reading Parallel Play is eye-opening, and learning what life with Asperger’s is like is really only a small part of it. Page vividly remembers things people with more ordinary brains have long forgotten, and his descriptions of what it feels like to be a child are so fully realized they can reawaken that sense in the reader, even bringing back to life personal memories long hidden in some dusty neural crevice. Parallel Play is also packed with entertaining details of the sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll mentality rampant in the 60s and 70s, the era when an idealistic girl Page knew was determined to turn her naturally carnivorous dog into a vegetarian, and when hippies could be pro “free love”, but clueless about or even hostile towards gay rights. Page relates the history of the time and his own stumblings toward adulthood with compassion and humor.
Parallel Play began as an August 2007 New Yorker article, and though it has been greatly expanded it still maintains the deeply moving quality of the original. Asperger’s and Autism memoirs are fascinating reads and are almost numerous enough now to have their own genre, but this one has the advantage of being written by someone who is a close observer of culture and a professional writer, so it’s beautifully composed. Page is both insightful and unwaveringly honest, and while the book can be painfully sad it is more often hilariously funny.
While high school couldn’t hold his interest, Page has had passions that have brought him attention since he was very young. His fascination with silent movies kept him busy writing, producing and filming his own shaky, black and white versions, using the neighborhood kids as his cast. “A Day with Timmy Page”, a documentary about Page’s movie making, shows Page as a talented, somewhat tyrannical, very young looking 13-year-old charging around shouting stage directions to his friends and yelling “Lights, action, camera!”
While turning the neighborhood kids into movie stars and chasing his passions into adulthood have caused people to admire Page for “thinking outside the box.”, Page confesses early in his newly released memoir Parallel Play that he has never had more than a shadowy, uneasy sense of what those “boxes” are. The boundaries of the boxes are invisible to him, he can’t make out why other people think they are significant, and he’s uncertain how to steer his life around or through them—leaving him with what he describes as an anxious, melancholy feeling that his entire life has been spent in “parallel play”, next to but irrevocably separate from everyone else. At the age of 45 he was finally given a name for his condition—Asperger’s syndrome.
Aspperger’s syndrome is an autism spectrum disorder, though Asperger’s differs from conventional autism in that language and cognitive skills are not much compromised. People with Asperger’s can be brilliant in their chosen fields, and if they are lucky their talents line up with skills that are considered valuable. Some of the traits “Aspies” can have include an abhorrence of changes in routine, the tendency to be easily over stimulated, a knack for being uncoordinated, the inability to effortlessly understand social cues like body language and tone of voice, and an inclination to develop obsessions they become extremely knowledgeable about that are often shared in long winded, one-sided conversations.
Neurodiversity is a relatively new word for the idea that atypical neurological development is a normal human variation. Advocates make the case that neurodiversity is as important for the vitality of human society as biodiversity is for the health of the planet. Neurodiverse Aspies enrich our lives with singular creations and penetrating insights into their fascinations of choice. A Googled list of famous people who may have been Aspies includes Thomas Edison, Albert Einstein, Emily Dickinson, Henry David Thoreau, and Ludwig van Beethoven.
But while many Aspies have made wonderful contributions to the world, it is not always a lot of fun to be one or live with one. Page says that as a child his “memory was so acute and his outlook so bleak” that he was sometimes described as a genius, even though he had difficulty telling left from right, and he continued to absentmindedly wet his pants into adolescence. His peculiar understandings and creative abilities may have been celebrated by the adults in his life, but he was also given any number of medical tests, psychiatric screenings, exercise regimes and medications, all with the goal of curing him.
Reading Parallel Play is eye-opening, and learning what life with Asperger’s is like is really only a small part of it. Page vividly remembers things people with more ordinary brains have long forgotten, and his descriptions of what it feels like to be a child are so fully realized they can reawaken that sense in the reader, even bringing back to life personal memories long hidden in some dusty neural crevice. Parallel Play is also packed with entertaining details of the sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll mentality rampant in the 60s and 70s, the era when an idealistic girl Page knew was determined to turn her naturally carnivorous dog into a vegetarian, and when hippies could be pro “free love”, but clueless about or even hostile towards gay rights. Page relates the history of the time and his own stumblings toward adulthood with compassion and humor.
Parallel Play began as an August 2007 New Yorker article, and though it has been greatly expanded it still maintains the deeply moving quality of the original. Asperger’s and Autism memoirs are fascinating reads and are almost numerous enough now to have their own genre, but this one has the advantage of being written by someone who is a close observer of culture and a professional writer, so it’s beautifully composed. Page is both insightful and unwaveringly honest, and while the book can be painfully sad it is more often hilariously funny.
August 12, 2022
4,5 stars - English Ebook
Quote: From early childhood, my memory was so acute and my wit so bleak that I was described as a genius—by my parents, by neighbors, and even, on occasion, by the same teachers who handed me failing marks. I wrapped myself in this mantle, of course, as a poetic justification for behavior that might otherwise have been judged unhinged, and I did my best to believe in it. But the explanation made no sense. A genius at what? Were other "geniuses" so oblivious that they needed mnemonic devices to tell right from left, and idly wet their pants into adolescence? What accounted for my rages and frustrations, for the imperious contempt I showed to people who were in a position to do me harm?
Although I delighted in younger children, whom I could instruct and gently dominate, and exulted when I ran across an adult who was willing to discuss my pet subjects, I could establish no connection with most of my classmates. My pervasive childhood memory is an excruciating awareness of my own strangeness.
And so, between the ages of seven and fifteen, I was given glucose- tolerance tests, anti- seizure medications, electroencephalograms, and an occasional Mogadon tablet to shut me down at night. I suffered through a summer of Bible camp; exercise regimens were begun and abandoned; the school brought in its own psychiatrist to grill me once a week.
Somehow, every June, I was promoted to the next grade, having accomplished little to deserve it. Meanwhile, the more kindly teachers, recognizing that I would be tormented on the playground, permitted me to spend recess periods indoors, where I memorized vast portions of the 1961 edition of the World Book Encyclopedia simply by skimming through its volumes.-
I found Tim Page's autobiography to offer insight into the Asperger mind, and also hope that a full, rich life filled with relationships with other people can be available to Aspies. That's my hope.
In particular I appreciated Page's view as an older person who has traveled a long way down the path of life, including being married (twice), having children, and of course a very successful career. He was able to sum up in accessible language the wisdom he's gathered throughout.
I also appreciated the graceful prose of a born writer!
The book loses 0,5 star because I found my eyes glazing over in so many places where Page rambles on musical tangents. Just as happens so often in real life conversation with aspies, he seemed not to know how much is "enough" when talking about his Special Interests. But this makes this book also so "real".
Quote: From early childhood, my memory was so acute and my wit so bleak that I was described as a genius—by my parents, by neighbors, and even, on occasion, by the same teachers who handed me failing marks. I wrapped myself in this mantle, of course, as a poetic justification for behavior that might otherwise have been judged unhinged, and I did my best to believe in it. But the explanation made no sense. A genius at what? Were other "geniuses" so oblivious that they needed mnemonic devices to tell right from left, and idly wet their pants into adolescence? What accounted for my rages and frustrations, for the imperious contempt I showed to people who were in a position to do me harm?
Although I delighted in younger children, whom I could instruct and gently dominate, and exulted when I ran across an adult who was willing to discuss my pet subjects, I could establish no connection with most of my classmates. My pervasive childhood memory is an excruciating awareness of my own strangeness.
And so, between the ages of seven and fifteen, I was given glucose- tolerance tests, anti- seizure medications, electroencephalograms, and an occasional Mogadon tablet to shut me down at night. I suffered through a summer of Bible camp; exercise regimens were begun and abandoned; the school brought in its own psychiatrist to grill me once a week.
Somehow, every June, I was promoted to the next grade, having accomplished little to deserve it. Meanwhile, the more kindly teachers, recognizing that I would be tormented on the playground, permitted me to spend recess periods indoors, where I memorized vast portions of the 1961 edition of the World Book Encyclopedia simply by skimming through its volumes.-
I found Tim Page's autobiography to offer insight into the Asperger mind, and also hope that a full, rich life filled with relationships with other people can be available to Aspies. That's my hope.
In particular I appreciated Page's view as an older person who has traveled a long way down the path of life, including being married (twice), having children, and of course a very successful career. He was able to sum up in accessible language the wisdom he's gathered throughout.
I also appreciated the graceful prose of a born writer!
The book loses 0,5 star because I found my eyes glazing over in so many places where Page rambles on musical tangents. Just as happens so often in real life conversation with aspies, he seemed not to know how much is "enough" when talking about his Special Interests. But this makes this book also so "real".
November 13, 2009
I really, really enjoyed the first few chapters of this fascinating look at a child with Asperger's. His obsessions with music and death, the need for the same conversations over and over, and description of school field trips where he cared more about bus routes and the scenery than the destination all drew me into his world.
The rest of the book was a major disappointment, however, as he spends his adolescence descending into drugs and the moral anarchy of the sixties and seventies. He spends pages describing in detail his hangouts, some of his exploits, and the many, many different pieces of music that he listened to and what he thought of them (he is a musical critic now) were a bit too much. I kept hoping the man would pull out of his hedonistic existence and while he did later become successful in some aspects of life, such as winning a Pulitzer for his musical reviews, his personal life remains a shambles. I just didn't find much to like or admire about the man, which was disappointing to me.
The rest of the book was a major disappointment, however, as he spends his adolescence descending into drugs and the moral anarchy of the sixties and seventies. He spends pages describing in detail his hangouts, some of his exploits, and the many, many different pieces of music that he listened to and what he thought of them (he is a musical critic now) were a bit too much. I kept hoping the man would pull out of his hedonistic existence and while he did later become successful in some aspects of life, such as winning a Pulitzer for his musical reviews, his personal life remains a shambles. I just didn't find much to like or admire about the man, which was disappointing to me.
April 27, 2023
I've encountered Tim Page through multiple fronts: I was seduced also by the prose of Dawn Powell, I had read Tim Page's articles in The New York Review of Books, and I even had the great pleasure of meeting him in person. I had been reading both his articles and his introductions to many of the Dawn Powell novels I read before connecting the dots that, lo and behold, it was the same person.
But another way that I found myself in Tim Page's orbit was due to a recent suspicion that I may be on the spectrum. I've taken the AQ Test multiple times and score consistently above 26, I read Cynthia Kim's I Think I Might Be Autistic, and follow several YouTube/Instagram pages about the experience of those on the spectrum. When I realized Tim Page wrote a book about his childhood with Asperger's, it was yet another way in which I felt a proximity to Tim, as if we were in the same orbit.
I think it's fair to say that the subtitle - which was dropped for the re-printing - might leave one anticipating more material about Asperger's syndrome (which has been recently assimilated into ASD anyhow) than there really is. But to this reader, it was no matter of concern. As an avid music listener, Buster Keaton fan, and Dawn Powell addict, the material presented here was highly illuminating and entertaining. It might not face Asperger's head-on, but a plethora of small details still manage to "get the point across," so to speak. It also kept me engaged throughout in a genre (memoirs of childhood) I don't generally become enthused by.
While I was already bowled over by the similarities of interest we had before this book, now I wonder if Tim Page and I have even more in common than I had already surmised. My one pressing concern here is mainly what he thinks of Bartók, another obsession of mine, and nothing more.
But another way that I found myself in Tim Page's orbit was due to a recent suspicion that I may be on the spectrum. I've taken the AQ Test multiple times and score consistently above 26, I read Cynthia Kim's I Think I Might Be Autistic, and follow several YouTube/Instagram pages about the experience of those on the spectrum. When I realized Tim Page wrote a book about his childhood with Asperger's, it was yet another way in which I felt a proximity to Tim, as if we were in the same orbit.
I think it's fair to say that the subtitle - which was dropped for the re-printing - might leave one anticipating more material about Asperger's syndrome (which has been recently assimilated into ASD anyhow) than there really is. But to this reader, it was no matter of concern. As an avid music listener, Buster Keaton fan, and Dawn Powell addict, the material presented here was highly illuminating and entertaining. It might not face Asperger's head-on, but a plethora of small details still manage to "get the point across," so to speak. It also kept me engaged throughout in a genre (memoirs of childhood) I don't generally become enthused by.
While I was already bowled over by the similarities of interest we had before this book, now I wonder if Tim Page and I have even more in common than I had already surmised. My one pressing concern here is mainly what he thinks of Bartók, another obsession of mine, and nothing more.
October 12, 2009
When I heard Tim Page interviewed on NPR in support of the memoir “Parallel Play: Growing Up with Undiagnosed Asperger’s,” I had a moment of uncanny recognition in which I felt Page was actually describing my own life rather than his. Could I have Asperger’s myself? I wondered. The feeling only intensified as I read Page’s book. “I suffer little stage fright when it comes to public speaking or appearances on radio or television,” Page writes. “I’ve got those particular acts figured out—but unstructured participation in social gatherings remains agonizing , unless I know exactly what is expected of me.” In almost every chapter, I recognized a little bit more of myself: eerily identical dreams of childhood (“I also dreamed that I could fly, soaring through the air with the same technique used to swim underwater, an exuberant breaststroke that defied gravity”), a fetishistic attraction to strong women (“Joan of Arc would be followed by Wonder Woman, Batgirl, and Emma Peel (The Avengers) in my roster of early heroines”), the onset of crippling panic attacks, the practice of meditation, and various adventures in self-medication. Page’s chronicles of early childhood strangeness and his difficulty in adulthood with maintaining intimate relationships with lovers continues to make me wonder about whether I have been touched by Asperger’s myself—after all, sentences such as this one could have come as easily from my own keyboard as from the author’s: “Laughter, meditation, therapy, antidepressants, Valium, liberal helpings of wine and beer, loyal and patient friends, forgiving children, a congenial work situation that allows me to spend much of my time by myself—all these have helped me to carry on.”
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August 26, 2010I am the author of "Parallel Play" and thought that my new introduction to the paperback edition might be of interest to readers:
It is now almost two years since I scribbled down the final words of “Parallel Play” at a window table in my favorite Baltimore bar. Initial jubilation was followed by some premonition about the reception that this most personal of my books might receive – from friends, family, colleagues and strangers, who would now know much more about me than I would ever be likely to learn about them. To my relief, the response has been overwhelmingly open-hearted. Any number of longtime personal associations have been clarified and deepened, and I was grateful to find readers comfortable enough to laugh along with my more spectacular moments of teen bravura. Since the publication of “Parallel Play,” I have few secrets that require upkeep: I probably feel as at home in the world as I ever will, and the past is the past.
For this edition, the book’s original, hastily appended subtitle, “Growing Up With Undiagnosed Asperger’s,” has been dropped, as it seemed to suggest that “Parallel Play” was a sort of guidebook or “owner’s manual” for people with autism, something better found elsewhere. Instead, I hope the reader will accept this as a quirky memoir that could have been subtitled “Old Records and Silent Movies,” “Eastern Connecticut in the 1960s” or (to borrow a line from the Three Stooges) “Loco Boy Makes Good.” My condition will quickly become apparent but, as a friend of mine likes to say -- when you’ve met one person with autism…well, you’ve met one person with autism. We are a diverse lot and there are many stories to tell. I have tried to tell mine.
T.P.
It is now almost two years since I scribbled down the final words of “Parallel Play” at a window table in my favorite Baltimore bar. Initial jubilation was followed by some premonition about the reception that this most personal of my books might receive – from friends, family, colleagues and strangers, who would now know much more about me than I would ever be likely to learn about them. To my relief, the response has been overwhelmingly open-hearted. Any number of longtime personal associations have been clarified and deepened, and I was grateful to find readers comfortable enough to laugh along with my more spectacular moments of teen bravura. Since the publication of “Parallel Play,” I have few secrets that require upkeep: I probably feel as at home in the world as I ever will, and the past is the past.
For this edition, the book’s original, hastily appended subtitle, “Growing Up With Undiagnosed Asperger’s,” has been dropped, as it seemed to suggest that “Parallel Play” was a sort of guidebook or “owner’s manual” for people with autism, something better found elsewhere. Instead, I hope the reader will accept this as a quirky memoir that could have been subtitled “Old Records and Silent Movies,” “Eastern Connecticut in the 1960s” or (to borrow a line from the Three Stooges) “Loco Boy Makes Good.” My condition will quickly become apparent but, as a friend of mine likes to say -- when you’ve met one person with autism…well, you’ve met one person with autism. We are a diverse lot and there are many stories to tell. I have tried to tell mine.
T.P.
November 9, 2010
I have many of the traits ascribed to Asperger's, but other than the informed opinion of a friend, I have had no official diagnosis.
Although many of the symptoms are good fits, and I have no problem accepting the possibility that Asperger's could be the root cause, I've recently wondered if a certain type of upbringing would result in a similar personality type. I'm an only child, and my parents (both deceased) were emotionally uncommunicative. My early enthusiasms were met mostly with indifference and, occasionally, rebuffed. As as result I learned to keep my thoughts and interests to myself, taking refuge in weekend double-features and the library. (My mother once attempted to restrict what I was allowed to check out, so I just read the forbidden books there -- novels "for" adults, not "adult" novels, so we're not talking D.H. Lawrence here.)
(Also, like Mr. Page, I found refuge in music as well, but acquiring a taste for Mozart in the deep south in the late 50s left most -- not all -- of my classmates puzzled and sometimes scornful.)
I read John Elder Robison's "Look Me In The Eye" a year or so ago, and came to much the same conclusion. Which is to say, no conclusion at all. Still, I found Page's book worthwhile, as any story of struggle and success is worth knowing.
But Page managed that success without knowing his condition until later, so I'm left wondering what the benefits at my age would amount to.
For younger people confronting similar problems, however, the book can be invaluable. A line in "Shadowlands" about C.S. Lewis says it best: "We read to know we're not alone."
Although many of the symptoms are good fits, and I have no problem accepting the possibility that Asperger's could be the root cause, I've recently wondered if a certain type of upbringing would result in a similar personality type. I'm an only child, and my parents (both deceased) were emotionally uncommunicative. My early enthusiasms were met mostly with indifference and, occasionally, rebuffed. As as result I learned to keep my thoughts and interests to myself, taking refuge in weekend double-features and the library. (My mother once attempted to restrict what I was allowed to check out, so I just read the forbidden books there -- novels "for" adults, not "adult" novels, so we're not talking D.H. Lawrence here.)
(Also, like Mr. Page, I found refuge in music as well, but acquiring a taste for Mozart in the deep south in the late 50s left most -- not all -- of my classmates puzzled and sometimes scornful.)
I read John Elder Robison's "Look Me In The Eye" a year or so ago, and came to much the same conclusion. Which is to say, no conclusion at all. Still, I found Page's book worthwhile, as any story of struggle and success is worth knowing.
But Page managed that success without knowing his condition until later, so I'm left wondering what the benefits at my age would amount to.
For younger people confronting similar problems, however, the book can be invaluable. A line in "Shadowlands" about C.S. Lewis says it best: "We read to know we're not alone."
April 27, 2010
first and last couple of pages race through some extremely interesting stuff (his two marriages and divorces, three kids, 10 books published.....) and the rest of the book alternates between fascinating incidents/vignettes (esp. being a passenger in a horrible drunk-driving car wreck as a teenager, a couple of the other passengers having died)and overlong descriptions of concerts he attended, operas he loves, drugs he took when he was a hippie, etc.
Not sure why he decided against writing much about Asperger's per se, which is apparently (from the subtitle) the hook for the memoir.
Overall, the book got me thinking about seeming shift in people's responses to psychological/psychiatric diagnosis. I grew up in an era of "labels are stigmatizing, diagnoses don't explain anything but merely describe, it's important to distinguish the person from the condition -- we don't call them 'cancerics' so don't call people alcoholics; they're 'persons with alcohol dependence'". I would never have predicted that I'd end up reading about a self-proclaimed "Aspie" who was excited and relieved to finally get a diagnosis to help him make sense of his experience, though from what he reports here no useful treatment.
Not sure why he decided against writing much about Asperger's per se, which is apparently (from the subtitle) the hook for the memoir.
Overall, the book got me thinking about seeming shift in people's responses to psychological/psychiatric diagnosis. I grew up in an era of "labels are stigmatizing, diagnoses don't explain anything but merely describe, it's important to distinguish the person from the condition -- we don't call them 'cancerics' so don't call people alcoholics; they're 'persons with alcohol dependence'". I would never have predicted that I'd end up reading about a self-proclaimed "Aspie" who was excited and relieved to finally get a diagnosis to help him make sense of his experience, though from what he reports here no useful treatment.
December 17, 2009
I very much enjoyed the portions of this book where he talked about his insights into his (dis)ability ("I was probably going to be famous someday but that I was going to be alone" and "The book that helped pull me into the human race was Emily Post's Etiquette.") When there were pages of detail about silent movies or operas I'd never heard of my interest greatly waned!
I read this as a mom of a slightly quirky kid, hoping to get an insider's view of what Page wished his parents or teachers had known or done differently. (Given the subtitle, I didn't think this was an unreasonable expectation.) This is not that book. Perhaps because of his diagnosis, he does not speculate about other people's points of view regarding him. It was fascinating to see his elementary school drawing and essay, but how could he have been helped? Even more interestingly, should he have been helped?
We learn little about his wife and almost nothing about his 3 sons. The book provided a few tantalizing glimpses into his obsessions and lots of unanswered questions.
I read this as a mom of a slightly quirky kid, hoping to get an insider's view of what Page wished his parents or teachers had known or done differently. (Given the subtitle, I didn't think this was an unreasonable expectation.) This is not that book. Perhaps because of his diagnosis, he does not speculate about other people's points of view regarding him. It was fascinating to see his elementary school drawing and essay, but how could he have been helped? Even more interestingly, should he have been helped?
We learn little about his wife and almost nothing about his 3 sons. The book provided a few tantalizing glimpses into his obsessions and lots of unanswered questions.
January 3, 2010
Parallel Play is Tim Page's memoir of life for someone who didn't know he had Asperger's syndrome until middle adulthood. Asperger's syndrome is "an autistic disorder characterized by often superior intellectual abilities but also by obsessive behavior, ineffective communication and social awkwardness." Tim Page's account of his childhood, teenage years and young adulthood are both humorous and anquishing. It also illuminates his brilliance in his areas of intellectual enlightenment. He has become a Pulitzer Prize winner, a classical music critic, author and professor of journalism and music, in his words, "because" of his Asperger's, not "despite" it.
My oldest godson grew up in a like fashion, not being diagnosed until his early twenties. He, too, had his social, emotional, physical and educational challenges. He, too, has become successful in his own way. I read this book so I could better understand what life is like for him. It is definitely enlightening.
October 1, 2009
A disappointment. I'd already read all the best parts in a Washington Post or New York Times excerpt. If you want insight on what it's like to have Asperger's Syndrome, to have a completely different way of thinking than most people, read "Look Me In The Eye" by John Elder Robison. If you want to read seemingly endless passages about lesser known classical composers, read this. In true Aspie fashion, Page waxes on and on about what interests HIM, not the reader.
September 17, 2009
I wish I could buy a pile of Tim's book and pass them out to people I care about. His almost Shandean digressions on life and music are a marvel.
July 24, 2011
This is a short and sweet little narrative about the early life of Tim Page, who was apparently a badass music critic for the Washington Post. It combines two of my interests, music and autism, into a nice, balanced work that is entertaining and informative.
As the author cautions in his introduction, it is far from a how-to manual about raising or interacting with people with autism. In fact, his condition is more like a passenger, always along for the ride but not always immediately relevant to the trip.
He writes that if he could do his life over again without having Asperger’s he would likely decline, because of the many gifts his condition has given him. Perhaps the greatest of these is his ability to connect intensely and viscerally with music because of his laser-like concentration on things that interest him. He does justice to the downside of this as well, describing it as near torture when someone traps him in conversation about something that he is definitely not interested in.
The book mostly deals with Tim’s early life from childhood through college, and in fact only the Epilogue contains any information about his life after that. He takes us through his early obsession with death (and all the anger, confusion, and sadness that went along with it), through his family’s year in Caracas, Venezuela for his father’s sabbatical, and through his counterculture “hippie” acid-dropping days.
Like other books written by those with autism, this one confirms that they do experience the same range of human emotions that everyone else does, even if they do not show it the way others do. The best example here is the way Tim describes a car accident involving the death of two local friends of his in Storrs, Connecticut. He continues to mark the anniversary of the event every 20th of May, and feels close to the same gut-wrenching horror that he did at the time.
Quotes:
That’s me, I thought – alone, unsupported, and hurtling through space, on my way toward nothingness.
In life, you’ll find very few people with whom you share a unique laughter that belongs only to the two of you, and it is one of the highest forms of communication.
Once somebody becomes a part of my life, I will let them out only for the most urgent of reasons. Death doesn’t count.
For some of us, stories where the characters don’t live happily ever after, where the hero is too late to save the day, where nothing is redeemed, are curiously restorative, for they present a vision of the world that serves to reinforce what we see with our own eyes, and the truth isn’t so terrible that it can’t be told.
October 12, 2009
Really 4 1/2 stars-- a lovely memoir that accomplishes precisely what I think memoirs can and should-- introduce you to a life, paint a portrait of a particular time and experience, and at the same time offer something more--in this case, a consideration of living with Asperger's and an exploration of music that demonstrates Page's music criticism in a light but interesting way. His prose is smooth and goes down like a fine glass of red wine, and his metaphors and descriptions are often quietly striking. Along the lines of Roger Angell's Let Me Finish, and Alice Kaplan's French Lessons-- and the forthcoming Little Boy Blues from Pantheon, by Malcolm Jones. The only caveat I'd offer--not an insignificant one, but made up for by the success of the prose overall--is that Page doesn't integrate his experiences with Asperger's quite enough into the story for me to fully understand how he feels his condition sets up apart. I understand it intellectually, from the epilogue, but not always within the body of the book. Nevertheless, I certainly recommend his book and am pleased I had a chance to get to it.
August 7, 2011
This was a terrific memoir about growing up with undiagnosed Asperger's syndrome. Page is a great writer with a talent for describing sensory experiences in clear, relatable prose. This served him well in his career as a music critic, and it serves him well here in the project of helping the neurotypical reader see and feel the world through the senses of a child with Asperger's. With abiding interests in silent film and old Hollywood myself, I connected well with Page's story up through early adolescence. Starting around age 14 in Page's narrative, I could see where the developmental lines between extremely high-functioning autism and merely quirky neurotypical giftedness diverge, at least by comparing my own young adult experiences to those depicted here. This story made me think more deeply about Asperger's from a Piagetian perspective, that there are switches in the mind that appear to flip differently for children with Asperger's around the time of the onset of formal operational thought. A fine memoir.
January 29, 2010
Having a nearly-adult son who very probably also has undiagnosed Asperger's, I picked this up looking for some insight. Page writes just as an Aspie would be expected to write - heavy, detailed emphasis on his particular interests, minimal and for the most part somewhat clinical mentions of how his differences affected his family, with a few deeper glimpses into his relationship with his father and feelings toward a couple of friends. I guess the forays into drugs and the whole counter-culture were more or less inevitable given the time and place of his adolescence...
I came away feeling sad and discouraged, since despite his professional successes Page evidently still lives mostly to himself, functioning with the aid of daily Valium and "liberal amounts of alcohol." I have no doubt that this is a true picture of his life, but hope my further reading on the subject will have some brighter points.
I came away feeling sad and discouraged, since despite his professional successes Page evidently still lives mostly to himself, functioning with the aid of daily Valium and "liberal amounts of alcohol." I have no doubt that this is a true picture of his life, but hope my further reading on the subject will have some brighter points.
June 2, 2020
i picked up the book expecting it to read as, say, the DSM-V, or maybe a lackluster argument by the author about why disorders don’t define their hosts, but instead was met with a lyrical memoir of tim page—a metamorphosis from an awkward and frigid child to a drug-addled teenager to a confused and scared adult just trying to find his footing in this strange strange world. he has an ability to string ordinary words together in unexpected ways to convey visceral meaning, especially when he speaks of music, in ways that i’d never imagine and can’t help but smile at (harmonic stasis, sonic weather...) that being said, i felt like i wanted more of the story of his later life, and this is less of a criticism but more of a vocalization of my own selfish desire to be further inundated by his lexicon, to live vicariously through the trials and tribulations he has dealt with but be met with the comfort that everything will turn out okay.
December 10, 2011
I can highly recommend this book to anyone who wants to understand someone in there life with Asperger's--or just plain "quirky"--better. It's not a lecture, it's not a "how-to;" it's a well-known music journalist's memoir. It's light; it's random (Page's "omissions" don't bother me at all, as they have some other readers); it's a quick read. But to me, the parent of an Aspie, it's an invaluable, adult-perspective look inside the way my son's brain may tick. Everyone is different--I know that; but I see a lot of my son in Page's writing. To have these candid writings by someone who has found his niche using the strengths given to him by Asperger's, is a gift. The book may not interest anyone not directly affected by the autism spectrum in some way, but who isn't really?
November 5, 2009
This was a very well written autobiography of Music critic and author Tim Page. He gave a great insight to the life and struggles of one who has Asperger's. If you have a friend who may be dealing with this issue, this book may help you understand how his/her mind may be viewing life and the world. Mr. Page is a Pulitzer Prize winning author and he uses his writing abilities to discuss the unique perspectives he has had since childhood and explore how he mapped out a successful path through life. He is also honest about where his mind and emotional disconnects affected those around him.
November 25, 2009
I hoped this book would be more about Asperger's and what it was like to live with it. Instead it was a biography. To be fair, in the introduction, the author did say that it was about his life and not about his syndrome. I was interested in this book because I am a teacher and I've had students on the spectrum. As I read I was searching for the parts of the book where he described how he thought. Perhaps this is why at times I felt I was skimming the book more than enjoying the prose.
October 18, 2009
a very well written book-a highly interesting & educational read-especially enjoyed learning about tim page's childhood, teenage, and young adult years, i read this book because of a positive magazine review and happened to see it on display in new-non fiction books at a peoria library-what i am writing is boring-tim page's book is anything but boring-
October 27, 2009
My oldest son has Aspergers' and is trying to find his way in the world. I loved reading about how Tim saw the world as a child. I also read "Look Me in the Eye" about Augusten Burroughs' brother who also has Aspergers'. Helps me understand how my son sees the world around him.
August 30, 2010
Beautiful, straightforward prose. (A voice I would love to be able to mimic.) The drawn-out descriptions of composers and musical pieces was tiresome, but served to good effect. You got a sense of what it must feel to be around Mr. Page.
January 6, 2010
Having lived and Storrs and was friends with Tim, this was a trip down memory lane. Tim is by far the most gifted person I have ever known, it was interesting to read his story from his perspective.
November 13, 2009
An amazing bio about exploring humanity and discovering a sense of place. Much of it is also set in Storrs, CT and New York, NY.
November 30, 2009
An interesting and movingly written account of a life with Asperger's.
August 1, 2025
I enjoyed Tim Page's perspective and writing in a memoir that openly shares his autism diagnosis at the outset and lets the reader fill in the blanks as needed about how it influenced his life. I think he would understand if I say frankly that I don't really share his special interests, so some of the lengthier and more detailed chapters where they're featured didn't do much for me. I wasn't keen on the substance use parts of the book either, but hey, man, it's your life and your memoir. (Heads up: there isn't an inspirational sobriety story at the end of this experimental trip through the 1960s and 70s.) Perhaps most importantly, this isn't an 'understanding autism' primer - at all. I bet a lot of autistic readers will see themselves in his experiences though. Page shares very little about the most important women in his life and about parenting while autistic. He's candid about he relationships' endings though and acknowledges he wasn't all he'd wished he had been as a father.
Some parts I did especially like, this line about his school principal on p.82:
"He thought I was flaunting my contempt for everything he stood for; in reality, I was trying very hard to conceal it." (Yes! Every time I fail at masking in a hierarchy situation with someone who I in no way consider my superior.)
This description of how he relates to some music on p.168:
"But its initial appeal for me was purely visceral. As the Quakers might say, this music spoke to my condition; it was what my insides sounded like." (Hello Mountain Goats song This Year when I'm upset and Mandolin Orange when I'm okay.)
These extremely relatable paragraphs on p.180-181:
"Overstimulation of any sort remains a positive horror, and I am most content either alone, with people I have known a long time, or with the occasional new friend I make and love instantly, as though we were born together. I generally prefer dark or neutral clothing and gray skies, but I make conspicuous exceptions for both Caracas and California, where, for whatever unfathomable reason, the sun feels right...Some people make me crazy - pushing their faces into mine, finishing my sentences, repeatedly calling my attention to things that don't interest me and that I don't care to know - and I can take these distractions for only a short time before I become unhappy and, on occasion, downright rude. In such circumstances, I feel physically threatened, as though I were trapped in an astronaut suit and somebody had released a hornet in the helmet, where it buzzes in my ear, stings my nose, and beats its wings against my eyelids and there is no way to smack or deflect it." (Best alone except occasionally with the people I meet for a day or two while traveling solo, sun being 'right' with palm trees and too much everywhere else, my own sensory runaway train - flashing lights, amplified music, shared workspaces, public transit, lawncare machines, noisy neighbors, especially children...)
Page's admission of an unconventional stim outfit on p. 52 brought back memories:
"...or my insistence, much of one autumn, that I thread a rabbit's foot through each buttonhole of my shirt." (I wore a velvet jester's cap with bells for the duration of my junior year. It covered my high, pimply forehead and its jingling made noisy hallways ever-so-slightly more tolerable. How I was not diagnosed with autism I will never understand. No one looked at the big picture of who I was. And I literally wore a stim toy on my head during one of the most self-conscious years of adolescence.)
The way Page relates to inanimate objects on p.7:
"So preoccupied are we with out inner imperatives that the outer world may overwhelm and confuse. what anguished pity I used to feel for pinyatas at birthday parties, those papier-mache donkeys with their amiable smiles about to be shattered by little brutes with bats! On at least one occasion, I begged for a stay of executionand eventually had to be taken home, hysterical, convinced that I had just witnessed the braining of a new and sympathetic acquaintance. Caring for inanimate objects came easily. Learning to make connections with people - much as I desperately wanted to - was a bewildering process, for they kept changing, and I felt like an alien, always about to be exposed."
His willingness to own his preoccupation with death and darkness from a young age rings true as perhaps the social failing people find hardest to forgive. A picture of himself drawn at age eleven shows him wearing a crown with a speech bubble proclaiming, "Everyone loves me" but also includes seven existential threats, a bomb suspended above his head like the sword of Damocles, TNT, a knife, bullet, grenade, and a rattlesnake. Each is helpfully labeled, including a juice-box-like beverage labeled "poison" on p.31. (With a beginning like this I can hardly help but root for little Timmy Page.)
cw: many, but especially deaths including car fatalities, substance use/abuse
Some parts I did especially like, this line about his school principal on p.82:
"He thought I was flaunting my contempt for everything he stood for; in reality, I was trying very hard to conceal it." (Yes! Every time I fail at masking in a hierarchy situation with someone who I in no way consider my superior.)
This description of how he relates to some music on p.168:
"But its initial appeal for me was purely visceral. As the Quakers might say, this music spoke to my condition; it was what my insides sounded like." (Hello Mountain Goats song This Year when I'm upset and Mandolin Orange when I'm okay.)
These extremely relatable paragraphs on p.180-181:
"Overstimulation of any sort remains a positive horror, and I am most content either alone, with people I have known a long time, or with the occasional new friend I make and love instantly, as though we were born together. I generally prefer dark or neutral clothing and gray skies, but I make conspicuous exceptions for both Caracas and California, where, for whatever unfathomable reason, the sun feels right...Some people make me crazy - pushing their faces into mine, finishing my sentences, repeatedly calling my attention to things that don't interest me and that I don't care to know - and I can take these distractions for only a short time before I become unhappy and, on occasion, downright rude. In such circumstances, I feel physically threatened, as though I were trapped in an astronaut suit and somebody had released a hornet in the helmet, where it buzzes in my ear, stings my nose, and beats its wings against my eyelids and there is no way to smack or deflect it." (Best alone except occasionally with the people I meet for a day or two while traveling solo, sun being 'right' with palm trees and too much everywhere else, my own sensory runaway train - flashing lights, amplified music, shared workspaces, public transit, lawncare machines, noisy neighbors, especially children...)
Page's admission of an unconventional stim outfit on p. 52 brought back memories:
"...or my insistence, much of one autumn, that I thread a rabbit's foot through each buttonhole of my shirt." (I wore a velvet jester's cap with bells for the duration of my junior year. It covered my high, pimply forehead and its jingling made noisy hallways ever-so-slightly more tolerable. How I was not diagnosed with autism I will never understand. No one looked at the big picture of who I was. And I literally wore a stim toy on my head during one of the most self-conscious years of adolescence.)
The way Page relates to inanimate objects on p.7:
"So preoccupied are we with out inner imperatives that the outer world may overwhelm and confuse. what anguished pity I used to feel for pinyatas at birthday parties, those papier-mache donkeys with their amiable smiles about to be shattered by little brutes with bats! On at least one occasion, I begged for a stay of executionand eventually had to be taken home, hysterical, convinced that I had just witnessed the braining of a new and sympathetic acquaintance. Caring for inanimate objects came easily. Learning to make connections with people - much as I desperately wanted to - was a bewildering process, for they kept changing, and I felt like an alien, always about to be exposed."
His willingness to own his preoccupation with death and darkness from a young age rings true as perhaps the social failing people find hardest to forgive. A picture of himself drawn at age eleven shows him wearing a crown with a speech bubble proclaiming, "Everyone loves me" but also includes seven existential threats, a bomb suspended above his head like the sword of Damocles, TNT, a knife, bullet, grenade, and a rattlesnake. Each is helpfully labeled, including a juice-box-like beverage labeled "poison" on p.31. (With a beginning like this I can hardly help but root for little Timmy Page.)
cw: many, but especially deaths including car fatalities, substance use/abuse
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
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