The Categorical Universe of Candice Phee by Barry Jonsberg (review)

“I’m me.” So goes twelve-year-old Candice Phee’s default and heartfelt response when asked if she’s autistic, a question she hears frequently due to her seemingly detached emotions and frequent misunderstanding of social cues. When Douglas Benson From Another Dimension joins her class, Candice makes her first friend, not minding that Douglas feels compelled to jump from a tree at the same time every evening in hopes of traveling back to the alternate dimension where he believe he belongs. He’s a welcome distraction from the sadness of her home, where her mother still mourns the passing of Candice’s baby sister some years prior and her father loses himself on his computer. Her uncle Brian takes her on his yacht, wins her beloved fish at the local carnival, and admires her ability to “sing her own song,” but his unwavering love and support can’t bridge the estrangement between him and his brother, Candice’s father. These details emerge in the form of an autobiography assignment where, committed to fact and thoroughness, Candice feels compelled to exceed the required twenty-six paragraphs about herself (one for each letter of the alphabet), with full chapters that paint her as a balanced, nuanced, and sympathetic heroine worthy of admiration. Jonsberg cleverly uses Candice’s unique perspective to tell her bittersweet story and reveal her emotional depth and strength of character without self-pity or self-importance. Candice’s frequent misunderstandings of human behavior and related commentary (and occasional inadvertent positive results) lighten this poignant Australian import, creating a heartfelt and humorous novel sure to resonate with any kid that feels different—and as Candice’s story reveals, that’s almost everyone.