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NEWSDAY

Autistic children, devoted mothers
BY JANICE P. NIMURA
Special to Newsday
June 18, 2006

DANIEL ISN'T TALKING, by Marti Leimbach. Nan A. Talese/Doubleday,

275 pp., $22.95.
EYE CONTACT, by Cammie McGovern. Viking, 290 pp., $24.95.

Did they plan it this way? Within months of each other Marti Leimbach and Cammie McGovern have published novels borrowing from their own experiences as mothers of autistic sons. They're both one-gulp books. They're both supremely filmable. They both end on notes of dewy-eyed hope: a romantic rebirth for mom, continued improvement for her son. And unlike "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time," to which they will inevitably be compared, they are both mothers' stories, revealing less about the autistic mind than about the strength of maternal love.

For some authors such a coincidence of publication would be supremely frustrating, but in this case two may be better than one. "Daniel Isn't Talking" is a more thinly veiled autobiography, tracing a single arc from difficult toddler and anxious mother, through dreaded diagnosis, and on to crumbling marriage, arduous therapy, and a new equilibrium. It's a primer on becoming an autism mom, on joining the sorority of fiercely committed women doing daily battle with society, bureaucracy, and the barriers in their children's minds. "Eye Contact" picks up the thread further on, with a 9-year-old in special ed and a single mother who's a veteran. It's a murder mystery, but more than that it's an examination of the complexities of connection: You don't have to be autistic to have trouble with friendship. Read in quick succession, the two novels present a more nuanced portrait of life with an autistic child than either could alone.

Leimbach, best known for her earlier novel "Dying Young," is an American who makes her home in England. Her heroine, Melanie, has also married a Brit and become part of a veddy proper English family whose members aren't unanimously thrilled to have her - an elderly uncle has written her into the family tree in pencil. Her sense of alienation intensifies as her son, 3-year-old Daniel, begins to veer from the path of normal toddler development: no talking, no laughing, no playing, but plenty of screaming, toe-walking and rolling the same toy train endlessly back and forth.

The diagnosis of autism ends Melanie's marriage. To husband Stephen, an impeccably dressed executive, Daniel's condition is "not in the plan," the world of families with autistic children "depressing and hopeless and unattractive." Melanie, meanwhile, sells their appliances and furniture to pay for the therapies that might help. "I will trade all these possessions for a few new words from Daniel," she says with utter conviction. "I am in a different market than the rest of the world."

Enter Andy O'Connor, sprightly Irish play therapist, a magician with autistic kids and no slouch with anguished mothers, either. Here's where it all gets a little goopy. The book begins to feel like a cross between a Lifetime special and a promotional brochure for Applied Behavioral Analysis, a controversial technique that works well for Daniel (and for Leimbach's son). There aren't enough scenes like the one where Daniel begs for shoes with buckles, and Melanie discovers that the only ones at the store are pink and patent leather. "Only girls wear patent leather," says the disdainful saleswoman. "I'm sorry, but that is a fact of our nation." Daniel, beside himself with happiness, wears his new pumps home on the tube. To be a parent, as Dr. Spock teaches, is to trust your instincts. At its best, "Daniel Isn't Talking" is a poignant portrait of a woman in extreme circumstances learning to do just that.

Cara, the mother in McGovern's second novel, may trust herself too much; at the center of "Eye Contact," separate from the galloping whodunit plot, is a mother who must learn to trust her growing child. At recess, Adam wanders into the woods near his elementary school with a girl from his class, only to be found later hiding in bushes near the girl's body. Unable to describe what he saw directly, he becomes a sort of witness-oracle, echoing snatches of speech and scattered details that his mother and a sympathetic detective hoard and ponder.

McGovern overloads her plot with red herrings, and with people leading compromised lives: Cara's high-school flame, brain-damaged in a childhood bike accident; her onetime best friend, now an agoraphobic; an assortment of middle-school boys with social and emotional problems. It begins to seem as if everyone in Cara's small town carries a diagnosis. But McGovern (sister of actress Elizabeth) knows the drama of caring for someone with special needs. Cara, remembering Hester Prynne from high school, thinks of the "scarlet A for autism" that frees her from obligation to anyone other than her own child. She sees "how sacrifice rewards itself, how large and consuming this kind of love can be." And she understands that, for both herself and her son, "the greatest danger is really the inevitable future," when Adam moves away from the circle of her arms into a less protective world. In trying to teach Adam how to make friends, she has neglected to make any herself. The pages turn quickly in both novels, but McGovern's leaves more questions.

Julia Roberts starred in "Dying Young" and is interested in the role of Leimbach's Melanie; she has also optioned the film rights to "Eye Contact." I'm sure both projects will be filled with anguished close-ups and soft-focus moments of transcendent connection backed by emotionally manipulative soundtracks. What will be nearly impossible to convey is the desperate devotion of mothers who pick up the pieces and put themselves and their children back together again, every single day