April 1, 2023
The tumultuous life of a bisexual, autistic comic. In her debut memoir, Scottish comedian Brady recounts the emotional turmoil of living with undiagnosed autism. "The public perception of autistics is so heavily based on the stereotype of men who love trains or science," she writes, "that many women miss out on diagnosis and are thought of as studious instead." She was nothing if not studious, obsessively focused on foreign languages, but she found it difficult to converse in her own language. From novels, she tried to gain "knowledge about people, about how they spoke to each other, learning turns of phrase and metaphor" that others found so familiar. Often frustrated and overwhelmed by sensory overload, she erupted in violent meltdowns. Her parents, dealing with behavior they didn't understand--including self-cutting--sent her to "a high-security mental hospital" as a day patient. Even there, a diagnosis eluded her; she was not accurately diagnosed until she was 34. Although intimate friendships were difficult, she depicts her uninhibited sexuality and sometimes raucous affairs with both men and women. "I grew up confident about my queerness," she writes, partly because of "autism's lack of regard for social norms." While at the University of Edinburgh, she supported herself as a stripper. "I liked that in a strip club men's contempt of you was out in the open," she admits. "In the outside world, misogyny was always hovering in your peripheral vision." When she worked as a reporter for the university newspaper, she was assigned to try a stint as a stand-up comic and write about it; she found it was work she loved. After "about a thousand gigs in grim little pubs across England," she landed an agent and embarked on a successful career. Although Brady hopes her memoir will "make things feel better for the next autistic or misfit girl," her anger is as evident as her compassion. An unflinching self-portrait.
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