V o l u m e I V, N u m b e r X I I
Celebrating The Precious Human Tapestry
November 13th, 2009
Screening of new documentary “The Horse Boy” challenges paradigms BYMAXWELL PRICE Staff
“Why does autism have to be a shutting down of everything? Why can’t it be an opening to adventure?” Those lines, uttered by Rupert Isaacson during the beginning of the new documentary, "The Horse Boy," act as the film’s core premise. This film was screened Tuesday evening in Olin-Sang to an audience of about 30 people. As a special treat, Isaacson himself was in attendance to answer questions. That enigmatic gentleman is the father of Rowan, a young boy with autism, who struggled with debilitating behaviors during his early years. Isaacson had the insanely creative (or possibly just insane) idea of taking his child, along with his wife to Mongolia in search of rare shamanistic healing rituals. If you saw it in a feature film you might think this setup was a bit far-fetched. But as a testament to a true story, it proves a remarkably vibrant narrative of hope, fear, and discovery. And luckily it doesn’t try hard to be sentimental, for the tale itself is already incredibly poignant. We want to root for not only Rowan and his recovery but for his remarkably devoted parents. Raising a child with autism is one of the most challenging tasks any human being can hope to undertake, and the film does not shy away from its darker shadows. The first few scenes of Rowan throwing excruciating tantrums are heartrending, and I occasionally wished the camera would
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turn away. But there’s no turning away in real life, and it is necessary to glimpse for 10 minutes what parents like the Isaacsons dealt with 24 hours a day. In spite of his difficulties, Rowan exhibits some surprisingly positive behaviors. He learns to categorize toy animals and develops intimate bonds with horses. How
this leads Isaacson to propose a trip halfway around the world to get in touch with shamans and equines is beyond my feeble intellect, but before I could raise an objection, the family was on the plane. Although they originally land in the decrepit urban capital of Ulaanbaatar, the imagery of verdant hills and shimmering
lakes soon defines the aesthetic. In this wide-open space, Rowan is free to run wild, literally and figuratively. Every minute change in his behavior, from tantrums to his bowel movements, is taken as a sign of either miraculous cure or dismal failure. As the family makes the rounds of various shamans and mystical sites, a rigorous process for even the most experienced travelers, Isaacson and his wife, Kristin Neff, display their insecurities. Watching them question their motives and empathy is almost as stirring as seeing Rowan struggle with his challenges. I can imagine parents of children with autism viewing this film and thinking, “Oh great, now I have to take my kid to Mongolia?” But the deeper lesson here is that autism presents as many opportunities as it closes off, demanding a new set of rules for debate. Isaacson emphasized this point after the screening. In response to a student with autism, who asked if he believed hyper-focusing could constitute a strength, Isaacson answered overwhelmingly in the affirmative. He discussed his work with the New Trails Center that he founded in Texas. It is partly a therapeutic equestrian center for children with disabilities, but he emphasized the importance of acknowledging each child’s skill sets regardless of whether they involve riding horses. People who asked questions, including parents and teachers of children with autism, shared their own personal perspectives. After one parent said, “Thanks for this, it was beautiful,” Isaacson responded, “Thank you for living it."
Chew on this: J. S. Foer discusses issues behind “Eating Animals” BY SAMANTHA SHOKIN Editor
Jonathan Safran Foer stands at a grand wooden podium overlooking dozens of pews packed with eagerly awaiting fans. An air of humble intellect gives him an almost rabbinical presence, standing at the front and center of attention at Congregation Kehillath Israel in Brookline. A respectful silence hangs in the air but is immediately broken as he starts the night off with lighthearted reassurance: “Last time I was standing in a place like this, it was my Bar Mitvzah.” Foer is one of the premier novelists of our generation. His first two novels, “Everything is Illuminated” and “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close,” have received tremendous critical acclaim; the first spawned a movie of the same name back in 2005. Foer is known for his artful prose packed with brilliant imagery, emotional plotlines, and wholesome humor—the humor often serving as a necessary counterpart to very intense subject matter (the Holocaust and 9/11, to name a couple). It comes as no surprise that his first published work of non-fiction would tackle some hard-hitting topics as well— this time the issue of “Eating Animals,” which incidentally is the title of his new book. Foer spent a big part of his life in a
moralistic tug-of-war between bouts of vegetarianism and eating meat with hefty servings of guilt on the side. Ever since his childhood babysitter posed the idea that his food came from a living, breathing, feeling creature, life as an omnivore became forever complicated. At the Brookline book reading Wednesday night, Foer selected a passage that illustrated his relationship with his grandmother and food. Growing up, he and his brothers “believed in our grandmother’s cooking more fervently than we believed in God;” often considering her the best chef in the world, despite the fact that her culinary expertise never surpassed using two ingredients in any recipe. Foer’s grandmother survived through war times and often had to stoop to drastic measures in order to keep starvation, and the Germans, at bay. At one point her withered, gauntly body earned the sympathy of one Russian who in turn offered her a free helping of meat. Grandmother refused, simply because the meat offered was pork—something she would not allow herself to eat even when desperately hungry, lest break her devout Kosher lifestyle. To this, Foer was profoundly confused and even angry. Grandmother’s response? “If nothing matters, there’s nothing to save.” “Eating Animals,” in typical Foer fashion, doesn't have a conventional linear story
line—rather, it is a congregation of various ideas, arguments, questions and anecdotes, working together to reach an ultimate conclusion: that eating meat is indeed harmful, and in more ways than one. Unlike Foer’s previous works of fiction, “Eating Animals” provides a brilliantly argued factual platform to discuss with his readers. The second part of We d n e s d a y night’s session was an informed discussion between Foer and the audience about the most salient issues in the book, as well as personal details from his life, like the reason he decided to raise his young son as a vegetarian. In this way, the open discussion was
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unlike his previous book readings that often posed questions about style and craft. (As Foer pointed out: “That’s what’s great about novels—They’re useless!”) This See EATING ANIMALS, p. 13