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A review by robforteath
No Book but the World: A Novel by Leah Hager Cohen
4.0
Ava and Fred are raised outside of 'the system', in accordance with their parents' theory that children should discover the world instead of having it explained to them. Their father also dislikes conformity of all sorts, and discourages them from being part of any group of citizens.
Autistic Fred would have been an outsider regardless of how he was raised, but Ava has mainstream desires for friendship and belonging. Ava soon takes a stand for these things and receives a mainstream education, yet her early childhood has left her unable to do more than mimic the little behavioural 'tells' that would allow her to truly fit in. Fortunately for the needs of the book, this has left Ava in the position of a bridge between the 'normal' world and that of Fred.
From the very start, we know that Fred has been imprisoned for the death of a young boy who had disappeared. Such a crime would of course make the populace united in hatred of anyone, and Fred almost exactly fits the stereotypical description of someone they would expect to be guilty: a 'vagrant', a 'loner', 'drawn to children'. Even from our less emotional perspective, we readers can only go so far as to say that the blame is perhaps not on Fred, rather on the others in his life who failed both him and society.
Ava's husband is something of the opposite of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl trope ("Steady Helpful Acceptance Boy"?), and provides her with the stability and belonging she desperately wants -- so much so that she is terrified that Fred might spoil it. Does this cause her to neglect her responsibility to Fred? If she hadn't, might the boy still be alive, and Fred free?
The narration is third-person, with each section told from the point of view of one character, and very much sympathetic to that character's particular understanding. The narration is so sympathetic to each chapter's main character that it struck me as odd that it wasn't written as first-person narrative. There is a theme throughout of how poorly we communicate with each other. Experiences that are meant to be fun turn unexpectedly sour due to some misunderstood intent; experiences that seem doomed to misunderstanding occasionally become happy shared memories.
Overall, the book is not an exciting page-turner. It just sinks in slowly and gives you something to think about. The writing is excellent throughout, and there are no pointless sections -- it was pared down to the essentials. If you are in the mood to read something that is a slow burn, this book should be worth your while.
Autistic Fred would have been an outsider regardless of how he was raised, but Ava has mainstream desires for friendship and belonging. Ava soon takes a stand for these things and receives a mainstream education, yet her early childhood has left her unable to do more than mimic the little behavioural 'tells' that would allow her to truly fit in. Fortunately for the needs of the book, this has left Ava in the position of a bridge between the 'normal' world and that of Fred.
From the very start, we know that Fred has been imprisoned for the death of a young boy who had disappeared. Such a crime would of course make the populace united in hatred of anyone, and Fred almost exactly fits the stereotypical description of someone they would expect to be guilty: a 'vagrant', a 'loner', 'drawn to children'. Even from our less emotional perspective, we readers can only go so far as to say that the blame is perhaps not on Fred, rather on the others in his life who failed both him and society.
Ava's husband is something of the opposite of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl trope ("Steady Helpful Acceptance Boy"?), and provides her with the stability and belonging she desperately wants -- so much so that she is terrified that Fred might spoil it. Does this cause her to neglect her responsibility to Fred? If she hadn't, might the boy still be alive, and Fred free?
The narration is third-person, with each section told from the point of view of one character, and very much sympathetic to that character's particular understanding. The narration is so sympathetic to each chapter's main character that it struck me as odd that it wasn't written as first-person narrative. There is a theme throughout of how poorly we communicate with each other. Experiences that are meant to be fun turn unexpectedly sour due to some misunderstood intent; experiences that seem doomed to misunderstanding occasionally become happy shared memories.
Overall, the book is not an exciting page-turner. It just sinks in slowly and gives you something to think about. The writing is excellent throughout, and there are no pointless sections -- it was pared down to the essentials. If you are in the mood to read something that is a slow burn, this book should be worth your while.