(Courtesy of Skyhorse Publishing)

For all of Hollywood’s marketing wizardry, the movie industry could take a cue from autism books on how to come up with juicier titles for its films. Memorable releases like Vaccine Epidemic, Callous Disregard and Managing the Family Meltdown can be found in this category.

Added to that slate of great titles is a new one about a mother’s struggle to raise two sons on what appears to be different ends of the autism spectrum: Jake, the elder son can talk and write; Jaxson, the younger son, labors to speak, while beset by mood swings and social issues.

Jeni Decker’s relentlessly funny, behind-the-curtains view of everyday life in her family of autistic boys is so perfectly titled—I Wish I Were Engulfed in Flames: My Insane Life Raising Two Boys With Autism—that Hollywood, which has been known to pirate a thing or two, may want to snatch it out right.

The irony might be that Ms. Decker is an independent filmmaker when she’s not a political satirist with her own blog or trying to care for, cajole, and correct the behavior of her sons.

Memoir with a Funny Bone

The book opens with Jaxson trying to communicate with his mother. He wants to play a video game. But the take-for-granted, simple task of son and mother talk vanishes in Jaxson’s world of spasms, self-absorption, OCD, body tics, and his inability to focus. And while he does spit out a word or two in his own code—a code that’s as indecipherable as Easter Island petroglyphs—Ms. Decker, the code breaker, draws the reader into her family and orbit of autism ruled by dysfunction.

In her no-holds-barred storytelling style, her prose peppered with blunt and profane language, Ms. Decker delivers the autism family in a new light: Vexing, prone to mischief, and painfully funny.

As a father of an 11-year-old autistic boy, I can relate to the unchartered journey a parent and spectrum child take when the diagnosis—the hard truth—emerges about a kid’s developmental issues. Thus, the joy in Ms. Decker’s book is not only her self-deprecating humor, as mother-as-fireman putting out the boys’ daily fires of trouble, but the lessons and observations she shares that transcend all family types, cultures, and backgrounds.

In the communication fits of the first chapter, Ms. Decker points out one of those telling moments. She writes:

“Jake is my first son, who also has autism. Jake also can’t tell a lie. Whenever he does something bad, he tells me about it immediately. For this reason, I think all people should have a touch of autism. Truth in advertising—you know what you’re are getting.”

The Fulcrum Point of Autism

Although the author sprinkles those poignant, life lesson kernels throughout I Wish I Were Engulfed in Flames (Skyhorse Publishing, 218 pgs), the book could have been better served to have one chapter dedicated to the ecumenical nuggets of life written in a more serious tone of reflection. If nothing else, it would’ve have provided a foil to the rest of the hilarious book.

Like a Jim Carrey film, a comedy with many funny scenes, needs to be balanced with one of sadness and deeper thought or the audience will lose focus as they succumb to tunnel vision. The corollary can be said of an action or horror movie. A dark story unbalanced by a scene of levity, a relief valve, will have moviegoers walking away depressed.

To be fair, the author does populate the book with Jake’s thoughts in his own written words; more of that might have been better.

And yet, Ms. Decker makes the comedic book on autism work. She does so by putting her own roly-poly, forty-something (her description) body in the middle of so many funny, unforgettable jams. She’s seen either helping her sons get out of impossible situations—like being stuck on a roof while using her husband’s favorite car as a stepping stool—or correcting her boys’ sudden, unexplained public outbursts.

With chapters titled—At Some Point, I’m Gonna Need Some Therapy, Laxative for the Soul, Chuckin’ Poppie’s Ashes, Full Renal Failure, Jehovah’s at the Door, and Santa: Give it a Friggin’ Rest, Already—and marked with wit, the humor flows like a waterfall in a fast rollicking read.

I Wish I Were Engulfed in Flames does remind one that autism is no picnic. As the late actress Betty Davis once famously quipped: “Getting old ain’t for sissies.”

Words from the Author

In an email interview, I asked the author about the diagnoses of her sons, since their behavior seemed to be staked on polar ends of autism spectrum disorder (ASD).
 
Ms. Decker: “Despite their being on different ‘ends’ of the autism spectrum, both of my children are officially diagnosed as standard ASD-Michigan diagnosis code ASD R340.1715, specifically. I would like to note that while an official diagnosis is important as far as being eligible for services, (if such services are available in your area) on a parenting level, a diagnosis is almost meaningless. Through research, I knew what was going on with my kids way before any doctor was able to diagnose them. But I never treated a ‘diagnosis.’ I treated—and continue to treat—symptoms, issues, and behaviors, one by one as they come up. Sometimes I feel too much weight is put on this thing we call a diagnosis. Diagnosis, to me, is just a word.”

In asking for an update on how her boys are doing since she wrote the book—a lag period between signed contract, galley editing, print, and publication, she replied:

“My boys are thriving! Jake will be in high school next year. Though there is already some anxiety, he’s at a place where he doesn’t need a paraprofessional to accompany him to most classes anymore. I couldn’t be more proud of his success, particularly given how hard he’s worked for it.

“Jaxson is also making great strides. His aggression has reduced considerably; exponentially, in fact, with his communication skills getting better. In his AI classroom, they use a combination of sign language and picture symbols along with the verbal cues. Unfortunately, he’s picked up a few unsavory words (from a classmate—I want that on record!) and peppers his already truncated sentences with them. Think South Park. But as they say, this too shall pass.”
 
James Grundvig is a freelance reporter and writer. He resides in New York City.