I end this review on a personal note. I had the opportunity, when Jessy Park was about 11 years old, to spend time with her, to observe her, and to learn from her, when I was a Williams College psychology major. So I can tell you that, if anything, Clara Claiborne Park is modest in her description of the scope of the tasks presented to her and of the accomplishments she and her daughter have made. But there is a stability to autism and a certain immutability to the unnaturalness of the social connectedness in those with the disorder. While reading Exiting Nirvana, I asked my son, Jesse, a Williams College freshman who goes to the mail room regularly to pick up his mail, if he knew Jessy Park. I told him she works in the mail room. He told me he did not know her. I told him she has autism. He immediately said, "Oh, I know her." "Jesse," I asked, "you didn't know her when I told you her name, but knew her immediately when I said she had autism; how is that?" His response: "Everything she says sounds rehearsed." As Clara Claiborne Park brilliantly points out, so it is, so it is.