Autism Within Of Mice and Men

So I forgot my password and it wouldn’t let me log in, so that was fun. Here’s my final!

Molly Avery

4/30/19

English 384

Professor Foss

Autism Within Of Mice and Men

In John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men disability is shown throughout the entirety of the text in three of the most prominent characters. Although two of these disabilities are physical, mental disability is addressed in the story through the character Lennie. While readers appreciate the representation, they are never explicitly told what disability he possesses. He is often assumed to be intellectually disabled, but through close reading, one can conclude that Lennie is actually an autistic character.

Literary analysts are quick to shut down theories of Lennie being autistic due to the fact that Of Mice and Men was published before the first autistic diagnosis in 1943. While this does support the fact that Steinbeck did not write Lennie as an autistic character, it doesn’t make him any less of one. Most mental disabilities used to be classified as intellectual disability at the time the book was written. Since then though, doctors have broaden these terms to more accurately diagnose patients based off of the exact symptoms they display. Lennie shows multiple signs of having specific symptoms that fall on the autism spectrum, as is supported by the text. Despite what analysts say Lennie’s sensitivity to touch, lack of  social skills, and incapability to control his body, prove him to be an autistic character.

Throughout the book Lennie has an obsession with touching various items that one could consider soft. This is first shown when Lennie finds a dead mouse in the very first chapter of the book. Multiple times throughout the first five pages Lennie attempts to discreetly reach into his pocket to pet the mouse, although this fails as George does eventually notice. Lennie argues that the mouse is a source of comfort for him, stating that he “could pet it with my thumb while we walked along,” (Steinbeck, 5). Although people on the autism spectrum can sometimes be sensitive to the things they touch, they can also adore the feeling of petting certain materials as well. This is shown through the story not just with the mouse in the beginning, but also with rabbits, dogs, hair, and clothing. Touching these things are usually comforting for an autistic person, and having it taken away may cause a distressed breakdown. Lennie shows the reader this when they learn about the backstory of what ran the two men out of their old town Weed. Back in their old work place, Lennie was fascinated by a young girls dress. Not knowing better, Lennie goes over to touch the fabric of the dress in a memorized state. The girl, obviously distressed by this unwanted interaction, begs him to let go. Lennie does not understand why he should, and is distraught at the idea that he cannot feel the fabric. He ignores the girls pleas, and continues to stroke it. The girl screams of attempted rape, and George and Lennie must skip town before harm can come to them. These two specific examples as well as other unstated ones prove that Lennie is sensitive to touch, whether it’s in a comforting way or disturbing way. Sensitivity to touch is just one of many common traits of an autistic person.

Another autistic trait that Lennie shows is a lack common social skills, that most men of his age would be aware of. A majority of people on the autism spectrum are usually socially incompetent in some way, and Lennie fits right into that. Of all the symptoms Lennie shows of being autistic this is the strongest. At the very beginning the reader learns of this incompetence when George has to give him specific instructions on how to act. “That ranch we’re goin’ to is right down there about a quarter mile. We’re gonna go in an’ see the boss. Now, look -I’ll give him the work tickets, but you ain’t gonna say a word. You jus’ stand there and don’t say nothing. If he finds out what a crazy bastard you are, we won’t get no job, but if he sees ya work before he hears ya talk, we’re set. Ya got that?” (Steinbeck, 6). Even with these instructions Lennie forgets them right away, and speaks up while they are meeting the boss for the first time. It is not only in the beginning of the story that the reader sees this though, it’s throughout the entire piece. Every single thing Lennie does is directly caused by his disability. Lennie doesn’t fit in with the rest of the workers at any point throughout the piece. When they go to play horseshoes, Lennie stays behind in the barn, and when the girl in Weed asks him to let go of her dress, he keeps petting it. George often has to take what people say to Lennie and repeat it to him through a filtered lens. Lennie lacks the ability to comprehend people’s demands and wishes, which is a trait an autistic person would show.

Another sign of proof that Lennie falls on the autistic spectrum is that Lennie fails to have control over his own body. He is described as a big man that often is not aware of his own strength. Throughout various points in the story Lennie often kills animals while trying to show them affection by petting them. He does this with mice, rabbits, and eventually Curley’s wife. Although many people can be unaware of their own strength, this is a symptom that points to autism. The worst of this problem occurs at the end when Lennie is petting Curley’s wife hair. She does not wish to have her hair touched and demands he lets go. Just like in Weed with the girl in the dress, Lennie does not understand why he must give up this simple pleasure and continues to stroke it. This angers her as she starts yelling at Lennie to let go. Not wanting George to be upset at her yelling, Lennie grows angry, and attempts to silence her. Unaware and incapable of controlling himself, he does this by accidentally killing her. Steinbeck describes her death quietly stating that “She continued to struggle, and her eyes were wild with terror. She shook her then, and he was angry with her. ‘Don’t you go yelling,’ he said, and he shook her; and her body flopped like a fish. And then she was still, for Lennie had broken her neck,” (Steinbeck, 87). This shows that Lennie is incapable of controlling himself, just as some people on the autism spectrum are unable to fully control their body at times.

By closely reading the text, one can conclude that Lennie is autistic rather than intellectually disabled. Readers may continue to reject, but the topic is irrefutable. Lennie appears intellectually disabled to readers, is because intellectual disability and autism share some similar aspects in how they affect a person. This should not be confused as the two being the same though. Lennie is an autistic due to his sensitivity to touch, absence of common social skills, and lack of control over his own body.

I pledge… Molly Avery

Word Count: 1170

CitationsSteinbeck, John. Of Mice and Men. Modern Library, 1938.

Molly Avery’s Major Project

Slam Poetry is often one of the most powerful ways to express emotions. For my major project, I wrote a series of three slam poems from disabled characters points of view. This allowed me to get into the characters head, and try to feel exactly as they felt, so I could get a better understanding of what it is like to live with that particular disability. I wrote way more than I ended up needing, as I ended up writing about 13 pages of poetry. For these three poems I picked The Creation from Frankenstein, Boo Radley from To Kill a Mockingbird, and Shadrack from Sula. I chose to do this project specifically, because I have often turned to writing poetry to help me cope with my mental disabilities. Writing is a beautiful outlet where all emotions can be let go. Nothing is more raw, than a poem.

In “The Creation,” I conveyed The Creations ongoing battle with himself. Within the first few years of his existence he questioned whether he was a monster or not. Of the three poems I wrote, this one was the most challenging. Of all the disabled characters I depicted, The Creation had the highest education, and therefore I feel he would write the most poetic poem of the three. It had the most structure and strictest rhyme scheme. There are 6 stanzas, and 18 lines in each one. This would make for 109 lines in the poem, since they’re actually 19 lines in the first stanza. It follows a rather odd rhyme scheme. It goes: ABBCDDCEECFFGHGHII. Although they are not the same rhymes, the same pattern goes for the rest of the stanzas. The only exception to this is the C rhyme. Throughout the entirety of the poem the C rhyme in all of the stanzas stay the same. This is to show that although all of these events happening in The Creation’s life are occurring at different times, they are all related. Everything that has ever happened to The Creation has shaped him into who he became; a monster. Although that term is up for debate.

In “Boo Radley,” I went over Boo leaving gifts in the tree for the kids, from his view. In this particular poem I broke a little farther out of what the text gave us. I imagined up scenarios between Boo Radley and his family during this time. While writing this text, I focused more on telling a story rather than having poetic elements. Of my poems, this one is the shortest, with just 65 lines. There’s no consistent rhyme scheme or any structure within the poem. This disorganized order has been implemented to showcase the randomness of the gifts Boo gave the children. This was the darkest of all my poems, which seems rather ironic seeing that one was about suicide and the other about murder. We don’t know what happens to Boo Radley behind closed doors, but when your family keeps you locked inside a house, one can assume it isn’t pretty. I touched on issues of self harm and abuse, because I honestly believe that’s what Boo went through.

In “Shadrack,” I covered the thoughts of Shadrack over the course of seven National Suicide Days. I had one stanza for each year. I had originally planned to write all the years covered in the book, but I felt as if by not doing them all, there’s more emphasis on the years that have been written about. For each stanza I focused more on what was happening around Shadrack more than Shadrack himself. I wanted to show that Shadrack was more aware -and just how deeply they affected him- of the happenings of the town than the book let on. This is proven, when he remembers and respects the one visitor he had for a few minutes ,for the rest of his life. I allowed myself to have ten lines in each stanza, and seven stanzas. This adds up to have 70 lines in the poem, but since there is one line standing alone at the end it is actually 71. This is the only poem of my three that doesn’t have any rhyme whatsoever. National Suicide Day was the one day a year that Shadrack accepted utter chaos and disorder. Having rhyme would only take away from this theme.

Word Count: 724

The Creation

Am I a monster?

I was not built to be feared and ridiculed.

There was a time I was desired,

The mere idea of me was admired.

Of having one’s own pet on a chain.

The idea of my existence came from a question,

That quickly grew into an obsession.

That could make any man go insane.

My creator slaved over my body for years,

He persevered through the blood, sweat, and tears.

He gave me life with a heart and a brain.

It never came to his senese,

All the possible consequences.

I awoke to see my God’s utter terror,

Never had I known a face so grim.

And maybe I made my error,

When I smiled at him.

Like a monster.

I am not a monster.

I found solace in the arms of mother nature.

When my God decided to run,

She treated me like her own son.

I weaved through the days in her mane.

I slept on grass and rocks and mud,

And drank from a stream of her blood.

When my stomach groaned in pain.

She pressed me to her chest,

And fed me from her breast.

So much knowledge I had yet to gain.

Her lips looked so red and warm,

They took on no true form.

As all my thoughts were overturned,

I leant in to kiss those lips I adored.

And how it burned!

I ROARED!

Like a monster.

I am not a monster.

There comes a time when the bird must leave the nest.

So I left my mother in search of more,

Wondering what life could have in store.

As the days went on, I began to drain.

With every labored breath,

I began to crave a sudden death.

Anything that would end this reign.

Not too far off there was a small village,

A beacon of hope that I could raid and pillage.

No longer could I keep myself detained.

The night was cold and my feet were sore,

So I began knocking on every door.

Her eyes held so much fear,

That I could not comprehend her plea.

They withdrew their pitchforks and spears,

And banished me.

Like a monster.


I am not a monster.

I trudged through woods unknown to many.

Yearning for a place to rest my head,

I found privacy in an abandoned shed.

My own palace to maintain.

But behind those sturdy walls,

Laid my own set of china dolls.

Their happiness coursed through my veins.

Of all the places I had roamed,

I felt that I had finally found a home.

How much I loved them was insane.

I had to reveal myself, it had been too long,

But I didn’t expect it to go so wrong.

I quickly longed to take it all back,

But the deed had already been done.

When their beautiful bodies cracked,

I had to run.

Like a monster.

I am not a monster.

I sought out my God’s native land.

All I had ever learned was that humans were ruthless,

And I wanted to beat him, ‘til he was toothless.

But upon seeing her, my resentment rested in vain.

I felt myself begin to shiver,

As she drowned in the river.

She looked as if she had made love with the rain.

Her skin was so cold and pale,

A sight to behold for any male.

Such a beautiful situation couldn’t remain.

The man entered the clearing in such a blur,

And concluded that I was going to kill her.

I shouldn’t have been surprised,

But I didn’t even have a chance to flee.

I stood there paralyzed,

And he shot at me.

Like a monster.

I am not a monster.

I had nearly lost all hope of ever finding a companion.

But millions of people walked these lands,

Surely one could see past my beast like hands.

A young boy appeared out of the domain.

Surely he was so pure and uncorrupted,

Like a volcano that hasn’t erupted.

Hanging out of his pocket was a chain.

His eyes met mine with a shriek,

Before my lips even parted for a squeak.

Never had a human caused such pain.

He was the brother of my creator,

Therefore he was the brother of a traitor.

I wished to strangle him until he turned blue,

Tear him apart limb by limb.

Anything to get my point through!

So I killed him.

Like a monster.

I am a monster.

Boo Radley

Jean Louise and Jem Finch were my best friends.

They just didn’t know it.

As reckless as Jem was

Sometimes he was so cautious,

It drove his sister nauseous.

But Scout.

Although she was small,

Her curiosity stood tall.

I knew she would see the treasures.

I left two pieces of gum.

It was a safe start.

I had a whole pack,

But patience was an art.

My father proposed to my mother with a purple velvet box.

Once the ring reached her finger and lips in a kiss,

The box was deserted.

I put that very box in the tree,

Where they would find,

That two pennies were inserted.

They no longer had value to me,

But to them, they would be one of a kind.

I left a ball of twine for them to find next.

I don’t even quite know what they will do with it.

But it was good for fixing

Broken nets,

And broken pants,

And broken men.

I take my time on the next gift.

It’s a soap carving of the two of them.

Before my enslavement, I never knew how to carve.

But when your family is whittling away your heart,

And leaving you to practically starve,

You get a rough idea where to start.

I was so focused on the hair.

I nicked myself more than I would like to admit,

But I didn’t care.

They were worth it.

I knew they had to be missing the gum.

And we had progressed far enough in our exchange,

That I could give them the whole pack,

Without it seeming anything less than strange.

My brother won a spelling medal.

It’s been rusting away in a crate,

He hasn’t touched it since he was eight.

Rather than letting it sit and collect dust,

It would be better in my friend’s trust.

In that very crate the medal lied,

Was my father’s broken pocket watch.

Dangling from it’s chain,

Was the knife I used to trace my veins.

Weeks since I had last opened my arms,

I gave it up, to heal the harm.

Everything had been in such good fun,

Until my brother discovered what I had done.

My brother’s rage knew no bounds,

As he released the hounds.

He gave me front row seating,

To my own personal beating.

He pried my eyes open wide,

And made me watch on in frustration,

As the knot in the tree died,

My only form of communication.

He took that from me.

He took them from me.

He took it all from me.

Shadrack

January 3rd, 1920

Two days after New Years.

When the goals and revolutions,

Were still fresh in their minds.

This was the only way,

The rest of the year could be safe.

With a cowbell in one hand,

And hangman’s rope in the other,

It was National Suicide Day!

Now was the perfect time to die,

Two days after New Years.

January 3rd, 1921

Two days after New Years.

When the memories of Eva’s husband leaving,

Were still fresh in her mind.

She had 3 kids,

2 legs,

1 ex-husband,

And 0 reasons to live.

She didn’t know it, but

Now was the perfect time to die,

Two days after New Years.

January 3rd, 1923

Two days after New Years.

When Chicken Little’s death,

Was still fresh in their minds.

He died three days after,

I had a visitor.

She always left.

She always would.

I had found a friend in this child.

Now was the perfect time to die,

Two days after New Years.

January 3rd, 1924

Two days after New Years.

When the death of Hannah,

Was still fresh in their minds.

The fire in her eyes lingered,

Within the eyes of her daughter.

She burned through her path

From the start,

To the end.

Now was the perfect time to die,

Two Days after New Years.

January 3rd, 1938

Two days after New Years.

When the thought of Sula’s return

Was still fresh in their minds.

My friend was once so small,

She use to fit in the palm of my hand.

But now she had grown.

And we had become one in the same.

She was an outcast, much like me.

Now was the perfect time to die,

Two Days after New Years.

January 3rd, 1942

Two days after New Years.

When the death of Sula,

Was still fresh in their minds.

But this year was different.

This year they opened their shutters,

And came outside.

They danced through the streets,

Down to the tunnel,

Raining of pure cement.

Now was the perfect time to die,

Two days after New Years.

I just wish I died with them.




Molly’s Response to Flannery O’Connor’s “Good Country People”

In Flannery O’Connor’s short story “Good Country People,” disability is portrayed through Hulga (or Joy), who has a prosthetic leg. While this is just a part of Hulga, all the other characters in the story see her as less capable due to this disability, and ogle at her wooden leg. The three most prominent characters in the story Mrs. Hopewell, Mrs. Freeman, and Manley Pointer all view her leg differently. How they view the leg is a reflection of who they are.

Hulga is the 32 year old daughter of Mrs. Hopewell, a traditional woman who doesn’t seem too fond of her daughter. Mr. Freeman (who is only mentioned) and Mrs. Freeman have worked for Mrs. Hopewell for the last four years, the longest Mrs. Hopewell has kept anyone. Manley Pointer is a travelling bible salesman, who manages to snag a date from Hulga, but is later revealed that he is a con artist that is after her wooden leg.

Mrs. Hopewell is brokenhearted over her daughters lost leg. Mrs. Hopewell does not like the leg at all, and hates it when Hulga purposely walks louder than necessary with it. Throughout the story it seems that after 20 years she is still grieving Hulga’s accident, as proven by the line “it tore her heart to think instead of the poor stout girl in her thirties who had never danced a step or had any normal good times,” (O’Connor 274). It is said she thinks of her daughter as if she is still a child even though she is 32 and more educated than her. She is unable to see her as anything but her disability even though she has proven herself to be more than that. Mrs. Hopewell is brokenhearted over her daughters lost leg, because to her Hulga losing her leg may as well have been Hulga losing her life. This tells us that she is a old fashion woman, who thinks that if a woman cannot be perfect, then she has no true purpose.

Mrs. Freeman is fascinated by the concept of Hulga’s wooden leg. She constantly asks to hear the story from Mrs. Hopewell, and it is said that she “could listen to it any time as if it had happened an hour ago,” (O’Connor, 275). She finds a sense of pleasure from Hulga’s disability, and compares her own daughters to Hulga. Both Mrs. Freeman and Mrs. Hopewell think of her daughters as some of the finest girls ever, and tend to be the center of conversations more than Hulga. Mrs. Freeman is fascinated by Hulga’s wooden leg, because it gives her a sense of superiority over the family she’s working for. This tells us that she is insecure about her life, and feeds off tragedies of others to validate herself.

Manley Pointer wants the prosthetic leg, and this is shown two different ways. At first the want is metaphorical. It’s not that he wants to take it for himself, but that he wants someone who is strong enough to keep fighting through the pain. To him, the leg means that she was “so brave and all,” (O’Connor 285). Later though, it is revealed that the persona of “want” he puts on was not metaphorical, but literal. By revealing he was a con artist, the leg in his is view became a prize to be won. It didn’t matter to him who the person was, the leg itself was the jackpot. Manley Pointer wants the prosthetic leg literally rather than metaphorically, because he collects prosthetic parts from disabled people. This tells us that he is, for lack of a better word, a total asshole.

Word Count: 607

I pledge: Molly Avery

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