Absence of neurodiversity in fiction

From the perspective of a neurodiverse author, it is nice to see that neurodiversity is now listed within the interests of literary agents, publishing houses are expressing more interest in neurodiversity projects, and there are some smaller publishers that are solely dedicated to the neurodiverse voice.

However, there remains a strange absence of the neurodiverse experience in books and literature. Most books about neurodiversity are either in the self-help or instructional genre or children’s fiction. Books that normalize the widespread presence of the neurodivergent in society are crucial, especially for children, but if the messaging only focuses on positivity, acceptance, and the value of diversity, so much of the neurodivergent experience, particularly of adults goes unaddressed and ignored. The wider implications of this in publishing means that we will not have books to inform readers in general of life with neurodiversity and we will not have books that explore characters and plotlines that are relatable for neurodivergent adults.

Neurodivergent fiction for adults seems nonexistent. Which is surprising, because the possibilities for creating neurodivergent narratives to demonstrate what life behind the mask is like are infinite. This concept of wearing a mask seems widely misunderstood as it is taken as a passive act – the neurodivergent put on the mask in order to function in public spaces. What is frequently missing from these discussions is that the mask is not just put on, it then has to be maintained for however long is necessary. It is an active, ongoing process that drains the neurodivergent. From a narrative perspective, this ongoing process could be easily and entertainingly demonstrated through fiction to either show are reader what it is like, or inform the rest of the world the kinds of experiences the neurodivergent endure.

The obvious hurdle appears to be the negativity and the trauma that are wrapped up in the neurodivergent experience. But if we don’t publish on these topics, we deny readers the opportunity to understand the pain of others. This is not a comfortable place to be. Depression and anxiety can be contagious, and the pain of others can be remarkably complex to understand. If a person has endured a life of pain and suffering, in all the myriad of ways that those things are possible, it will have shaped who they are, how they think, and how they respond to others. If our pain defines us, we might not know who we are without it. Pain then becomes a necessity to how we see and maintain ourselves. Good fiction from a talented neurodiverse author could show readers all of this.

There is no doubt a responsibility to help people with their trauma and there is no problem adding trigger warnings or mentioning key events in a synopsis, but sometimes it is helpful to read in detail what a person experienced and to see how it has shaped them as a person because it allows empathy and understanding. You cannot understand the neurodivergent without understanding their pain, but more than that, when neurodivergent people seek out representative characters in fiction they will walk away, disappointed.

I personally find it exciting to see if authors could start writing fiction that demonstrates the ongoing thought process of those with ADHD, autism, AuDHD, bipolar disorder, etc. The internal worlds of those with these disorders is rich and ripe for good fiction, but it will come with pain and discomfort.

Why would good literature ever shy away?