I feel like I want to attach a giant asterisk to those two stars up there:

*I acknowledge that this opinion will not be shared by 90% or more of readers.

I know that most everyone is going to love this book: it’s a very sweet, heartwarming story. And on top of that – it’s well written and flows really nicely. I finished it in one afternoon. For a really well thought-out, positive review I would read Flannery’s. If you insist on staying here – be prepared for dissent and lot of middle-school reminiscing on my part. You’ve been warned. And now to the task at hand!

This is the story of August, a ten year old boy who’s attending school for the first time. He was born with major facial deformities, and has been homeschooled from early childhood. His parents think it’s time for him to attempt a real school environment, but he isn’t sure. In public, he’s often greeted by curious stares or even open revulsion. Will he be able to survive middle school?

This book got under my skin a lot more than I ever expected it to. I thought that my major complaint (if any) would be that it was too light, too sweet. But this book has a lot of depth. It contains six (or more – I kind of lost track) points of view. The narrative is handed off relay-style from one pair of eyes to another, starting with August and moving forward to his sister Via and then to his friends. I think this was largely successful; although, (and this is just my opinion) I think that if you need to distinguish multiple POV’s using differences in spelling/capitalizations/fonts then you probably shouldn’t be writing multiple POV’s. Justin’s chapter (written in present tense and with no capitalizations) and the emails/texts between Auggie and Jack (which were horrific in their spelling, even though the two boys have perfect spelling in their respective sections) felt distracting. But for the most part I found this to be a very engrossing, intelligent, thoughtful read. I related really strongly to the chapters from Via and Summer, in particular.

However, I think that the main reason that I just could not connect with this book is that I fundamentally disagree with its central lesson, which boils down to: “be kind.” To explain myself properly, I need to relate a little history of my own (and this is where this review gets personal).

One of my best friends for the past (almost) seventeen years is disabled. I don’t like saying that, because she hates that word. I can hear her voice in my head right now, doing an exaggerated parody of the word handicapped: “hayun-d-CAPPED!”, which she also hates. We met in 8th grade French class and quickly bonded over a shared love of movies and just about everything else. We were practically joined hip-to-wheel (she would totally laugh at that) from grades 8-11, when I tragically had to move to another state. Even so, we’ve remained close. I attended her wedding three years ago and we’ve commiserated over the “newborn phase” now that she’s had her first child.

My friend has very limited mobility on the entire right side of her body. As a small child, she walked using a walker, but made the decision as she got older to start using a wheelchair. People often stared when she walked – she moved so differently than everyone else. They stared less when she was in a chair. But there’s one thing that my friend has always hated even more than curious or disgusted stares: when people asked her why she needed a wheelchair. I don’t know how many times a well-meaning friend or adult sat down with her and asked – all concern, all solicitude – for “her story.”

She got so tired of it that she started making up fake answers. This one was my favorite: “I-I-I don’t know, man! I was f-fine yesterday! I could walk! Y-you gotta help me! I think it’s contagious!” And then she would proceed to clutch at whoever was asking.

When we were fifteen, we spent one day together going around the mall and her neighborhood in wheelchairs. I used one of her older ones. It wasn’t like some sophisticated attempt at a social experiment on my part – I just wanted to get a small glimpse of what it was like for her. In hindsight, I think that I could probably be accused of the kind of arrogant curiosity that she hated – but she was forgiving enough to go along with my idea and if it bothered her, she never mentioned it. What I remember most was how kind everyone was. How solicitous. How they looked at us with soft gazes, as they said things like, “do you girls need any help today?

I finally got a small inkling of what it must be like to deal with that for your entire life: a constant wave of kind smiles and soft voices and helpfulness; a constant blindness to everything about you. It says: you are not someone to be taken seriously, to be respected. You are someone to be pitied.

A few of the many reasons that I love my friend so much are that she’s outspoken, blunt, honest, and bold. When we were teenagers, she would go right up to boys and flirt shamelessly with them. She would state her opinions loudly with no apologies. It was like a dare. It was like she was saying: I dare you to disagree with me, hate me, lust after me. My friend didn’t want to be treated with kindness; she wanted to be treated like a person. She wanted to be loved, hated, desired, or ignored just like everyone else.

And now I finally come to the point: why I couldn’t possibly connect with this book (some spoilers follow). I don’t think that I’m giving too much away when I say that Auggie gets a happy ending. Or at least, it’s supposed to be. Auggie the character seems over the moon about it all. He just loves it when the former bullies in his class start patting him on the back and calling him “little dude” like he’s their special mascot. That’s what real friends do! He’s just so happy – as his friends are growing up and discovering the opposite sex, as his beautiful friends Summer and Jack seem destined to be a couple. It’s so great! Good thing he doesn’t want any of that! Nope. He’s just content to remain the asexual third wheel forever. And he’s ecstatic to receive an award – for kindness! – that even he acknowledges was given to him because he’s the kid with the disability. And of course they all just cheer and cheer as he walks up to the podium – in front of everyone – so happy!! Even though he hates being in front of crowds. And, YAY!! It’s picture time! Even though he’s had a lifelong aversion to having his picture taken – let’s get a million! With all of his close, close (only started acknowledging him two seconds ago) friends.

Okay, so - sarcasm aside. I do realize that not every disabled experience is the same. Maybe Auggie would like to be acknowledged - I don't know. But when everyone’s congratulating themselves for being so kind to him, it makes me feel insulted on his behalf. Doesn’t he want to be taken seriously? Doesn’t he want to be seen as more than just the special kid? Doesn’t he want to be respected as a person? As a boy? All I have is my own experience, and it tells me that it’s better to treat people with dignity and respect than with kindness. And so the central point of this book (for all that it is very well-meaning) seems at best simplistic to me – and at worst – insulting.