I did not read as many books in 2015 as I usually do, and many of the books I read were graphic novels – so, much lower word count this year, if I were counting. It was hard for me to focus my attention on anything book-length, unless it were especially compelling. As a result, of the books that I did read, there are some real superstars. Here are my top ten, in chronological order.

(Note: book links will now take you to Goodreads, since linking to my Amazon affiliate shop is a pain in the ass and I never make any money on them anyway.)

Nerdy, Shy, and Socially Inappropriate by Cynthia Kim. Although this book talks about “Asperger’s syndrome,” terminology that I reject and Kim later did as well, this is one of my favorite books about being autistic. Like me, Kim found out she was autistic as an adult, after her “work-arounds” in life started to fail and she began to wonder why exactly she was having a difficult time coping. Obviously this is a great book for anyone who has an adult diagnosis (self- or otherwise) of autism, but it’s also really great at explaining the various aspects of being autistic, just in general. She talks about marriage and parenting a little bit, gives a lot of relatable stimming examples, and I believe this book contains probably the best explanation of executive functioning ever.

This Is How You Lose Her by Junot Diaz. Diaz is an author I need to read more, and I’m not sure why I haven’t except that I keep forgetting. This book made me uncomfortable, but in a good way. Yunior, the character at the heart of these short stories, is an asshole and a womanizer, a man I was both drawn to and repulsed by. The writing is raw and honest and has an energy that pulls you in and holds you there.

Blankets by Craig Thompson. Blankets is the book that ignited my passion for graphic novels this year. It’s a beautiful, heartbreaking memoir about falling in love and losing your religion, about dysfunctional families and the exhilarating heartache of adolescence. I loved it so much I wished I had written it.

Schulz and Peanuts: A Biography by David Michaelis. This is a special interest topic so I’m sure not everyone would enjoy this book, but I really enjoyed it, and it was enormous so it took up a lot of headspace for me this year! Despite the way the author seemed disdainful and misunderstanding toward Charles “Sparky” Schulz through much of the biography, I felt that Sparky shone through as a complicated, often lonely person with a deep passion for his cartoons.

Stitches by David Small. Another outstanding graphic memoir, the word that always comes to mind when I think of Stitches is “haunting.” It’s dark and devastating, but beautiful. The genius of this book is in the way the words and images are perfectly interwoven to tell the story; often the drawings take over the storytelling when words simply cannot. I never wanted this book to end.

I Was A Child: A Memoir by Bruce Eric Kaplan. I adored this weird, weird little memoir. Kaplan is better known as BEK, creator of the minimalist, scribble-like cartoons that the New Yorker made famous. What would a minimalist cartoonist write if he wrote a memoir? A series of little moments of memory, small keyhole views of childhood, perfectly described. Thinking about this book makes me want to read it again and again.

Furiously Happy: A Funny Book About Horrible Things by Jenny Lawson. I have to admit that this book just barely edged out some others to make my list. I enjoyed this book a lot, it was funny and entertaining and made me feel good, but it didn’t take over my mind the way the other nine on the list did this year.

Between the World And Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates. It is difficult for me to review or even summarize this book because everything I try to write about it feels small next to the magnitude of Coates’s writing. The book takes the form of a long letter to his son, in which he weaves together his own life story with the larger story of systemic racism – the experience of being black in America. His central argument is that we cannot know how to move forward without taking an honest look at where we’ve been and where we are – but he does this with more elegance and beauty than I can rightly convey.

Neurotribes: The Legacy of Autism and How to Think Smarter About People Who Think Differently by Steve Silberman. I had, and still have, a complicated mix of thoughts and feelings about this book. Its strength lies in telling the world the true history of the pathologization of autism and the way the false concept of an autism epidemic came about – the stories of Asperger, Kanner, Lovaas, and assorted historical figures of that era like Bernie Rimland and Bettleheim and such. Many people have correctly criticized him for white-washing, male-washing, and geek-washing the autistic community and wished that he had done a better job of portraying autistic diversity. Over time I’ve come to think that he should have actually cut even more from this book and just limited his scope to his areas of strength – telling the history of autism research. Autistic people can do a better job of describing our own culture.

The Real Experts: Readings for Parents of Autistic Children ed. Michelle Sutton. As a fitting follow up to Neurotribes, here is an excellent collection of autistic people describing their own culture and sharing their experiences of the world. It’s another book that’s hard to sum up, in this case because of the rich diversity of voices and topics it covers, with essays from Nick Walker, Ally Grace, Emily Paige Ballou, Alyssa Hillary, Cynthia Kim, Kassiane Sibley, Sparrow Rose Jones, Michael Scott Monje Jr., Elizabeth J. Grace, Briannon Lee, Morénike Giwa Onaiwu, and Amy Sequenzia, with introductions to each author written by Michelle Sutton. I highly recommend to anyone who is interested in what it means to be an autistic person in the world, from the point of view of those who know best.

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