Haddon, Mark. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. NY: Vintage, 2004. 240 pages. $12. Softcover, 1400032717.

Reviewed by Beth Haller, Towson University

Books whose characters have a unique voice are always intriguing. But getting into the brain of a character who truly processes the world in a novel way is a true treat. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time is just such a book. Its main character, and the narrator of the book, is Christopher Boone, a 15 year old with autism.

Mark Haddon, the author of The Curious Incident, never lets Christopher stray from his unique interpretation of the world around him, which is what allows the readers to feel they are within his mind. Haddon teaches creative writing in England, but as a young man he worked with autistic individuals. He clearly illustrates his familiarity with an "autistic world view" in The Curious Incident.

At some points, the autistic world view can become disconcerting because audiences come to expect much more emotion in a good story. But this fact does not detract from the story, it enhances it. The reader is forced to give in to Christopher's logical and concrete way of looking at everything around him. The book's tone reminds one of Temple Grandin's autobiographical account of what it is like to process the world as an autistic individual.

From a disability image standpoint, The Curious Incident has power because the running undercurrent in the book is that it is less that Christopher's disability causes challenges, than it is the disabling environment in which he lives. This disabling environment includes a number of adults in his life who don't know how to deal with Christopher and his many unique requirements and rituals. (He only eats food of certain colors, for example). Also, the conflicts that begin to swirl in Christopher's family arise from the adults' frustration and lack of acceptance of the teen's differences. Mostly, Christopher himself manages his disability perfectly well through a set of strategic rituals such as doing complex math problems in his head. But his family causes his autistic symptoms to erupt through their own collective inability to cope.

Christopher calls the book a "murder mystery" as he sets out to discover who killed his neighbor's dog, Wellington. His single-minded, Sherlock-Holmes-style pursuit of the "killer" sets in motion a bigger mystery that affects his own life. And the book lives up to Christopher's characterization excellently; it is such a compelling mystery that one has difficulty putting the book down. But The Curious Incident functions as a coming-of-age story as well, one in which this teen with autism must confront his deepest fears to solve the larger mystery.

Another insightful aspect to the book concerns Christopher at his "special school," which he reluctantly tolerates. His true goal is take his A levels in math so he can one day pursue a career as an astronaut. In a wonderful deconstruction of the term "special needs," Christopher refuses to be lumped into any categories just because he is different.

All the other children at my school are stupid. Except I'm not meant to call them stupid, even though that is what they are. I'm meant to say that they have learning difficulties or that they have special needs. But this is stupid because everyone has learning difficulties because learning to speak French or understanding relativity is difficult and also everyone has special needs, like Father, who has to carry a little packet artificial sweetening tablets around with him to put in his coffee to stop him from getting fat, or Mrs. Peters who wears a beige-coloured hearing aid, or Siobhan, who has glasses so thick that they give you a headache if you borrow them, and none of these people are Special Needs, even if they have special needs (pp. 43-44).

Reading about Christopher's investigation of a world that calls him different is pure joy. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time also infuses much humor into the serious mystery Christopher is trying to solve. As a reader, Christopher's constant questioning causes one to take pause at, for example, the many metaphors that litter the English language, and when considered by someone with autism, they become quite ridiculous. What does "the apple of someone's eye" really mean? Christopher would ask what do apples and the human eye have to do with liking someone. And that's the fun of the book, considering how the habits and practices of non-disabled people can be interpreted as "weird or different," too.