The lights went out. I shaved my head. Now I’m going to find the truth. My narrator, Alexandra, surprised me. I didn’t know she would dig up truths about me, my family, and my brother. I was fourteen when my brother was born on New Year’s Day. He was diagnosed with autism at age two, an unusually early diagnosis for the 1980s, before the surge in autism awareness. Other diagnoses followed, as did loud dinner table burps, his signature bandanna neckerchief, tempers, and a lifelong obsession with glow-in-the-dark stars. What is it like having a brother with autism? That question always makes me uneasy. I’m scared of people’s bias, scared of their need for a Comforting Story of Disability. And I’m scared to be found out, for though I am considered the more “functional” brother, I feel more inadequate in my relationship with him than I do in any other relationship in my life. (It is perhaps worth noting that writing that sentence, like many sentences in my novel, brought tears to my eyes.) buy viagra generic myindianpharmacy.net over the counter Alexandra, my narrator, has a brother with cognitive differences, and she is more blunt than I am. In her voice, I wrote all the joys, absurdities, and indignities, the mundane and magical moments of cognitively different siblinghood. Raising a kid like Georgie is intimate as hell. There’s so much body and contact. Crushing hugs when he’s willing to give you one. Helping him put his pants back on after a poop. Tick checks, baths, snot and drool wiping, wrestling down a temper. I know Georgie’s body the way most people know their partner’s, or their child’s. Alexandra speaks truths I needed to hear when I was younger. “Must be so hard for your family.” “Is there a cure?” “Gosh, you’re an angel to be such a loving sister.” No, I’m not an angel. And I’m not loving all the time. But no one wants to know that. You can’t be pissed at your disabled brother. You’re not allowed to wish he was easier, not allowed to scream at him when he ruins family dinner for the fourth night in a row. buy advair generic myindianpharmacy.net over the counter Alexandra’s life, like mine, is changed and deepened by living in what she calls the “Nation of Difference,” communities of people with cognitive structures that don’t fit our narrow cultural expectations. Her journey is the story I wish I’d read as a 17-year-old. I hope it speaks some truth and lightness and hilarity for people who know the Nation Of Difference. What is it like? I’ll let Alexandra answer that one: I put my forehead on my brother’s shoulder. He smells woolly, like an old carpet. I love him so, so much. It’s like a free fall. It’s like a catapult. Don't miss A Night Twice As Long by Andrew Simonet on sale June 1, 2021, available wherever books are sold.  If you're looking for other books by Andrew check out Wilder. What do you call the difference between what you should feel and what you do feel? Life? The blackout has been going on for three weeks. But Alex feels like she’s been living in the dark for a year, ever since her brother, who has autism, was removed from the house, something Alex blames herself for. So when her best friend, Anthony, asks her to trek to another town to figure out the truth about the blackout, Alex says yes. buy actos generic myindianpharmacy.net over the counter On a journey that ultimately takes all day and night, Alex’s relationships with Anthony, her brother, and herself will transform in ways that change them all forever. In this honest and gripping young adult novel, Andrew Simonet spins a propulsive tale about what it means to turn on the lights and look at what’s real.