Review of “Nine Minds” by Daniel Tammet: A New Language for Neurodiversity

In The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat, Oliver Sacks recounts the story of two autistic men with an extraordinary relationship with numbers. During one session, a matchbox spilled its contents and the twins instantly recognized there were 111 matches without counting. They explained they could "see" the total number. Sacks concluded that these twins lived solely in a world of numbers, devoid of any interest in the stars or human emotions.

Daniel Tammet briefly mentions Sacks in his new book, Nine Minds, but Sacks’s influence permeates through these portraits of autistic individuals. Like the twins, Tammet is also on the autistic spectrum; he can perform complex mental calculations and inhabit a "thought-world of numbers." However, Tammet is also a writer, defying the common belief that autism and empathy cannot coexist. His book serves as an artistic and activist response to Sacks’s assumptions, celebrating the unique talents of autistic individuals while exploring their rich desires and dreams.

The subjects in Nine Minds include a murder detective, a brilliant mathematician, and a surgeon, all of whom possess exceptional abilities. They can spot patterns, solve puzzles, and manipulate language creatively. Yet, their lives are marked by a tension between their gifts and difficulties, clarity and confusion, acceptance and rejection.

Tammet shares the story of Vaughan, a skilled hand and wrist surgeon celebrated for his precision but who struggles with facial recognition and comprehending his wife’s words. Vaughan’s dexterous abilities don’t extend to understanding the fragmented human mind, which proves much more challenging to grasp and repair.

Autism challenges societal assumptions about language and perception. For example, Tammet describes Dan Aykroyd, the comic actor, who focused intensely on specific words in a sketch, triggering a flood of associations. Aykroyd, and others like him, perceive the world differently—not deficiently. This revelation dovetails with the essence of the neurodiversity movement: the problem lies not in autistic people’s perceptions but in society’s neurotypical assumptions.

Tammet, growing up before the neurodiversity movement, often writes as if addressing his younger self, who was raised hearing language of disability rather than difference. Like a novelist, he delves into his subjects’ minds, reconstructing dialogues and constructing narratives. While rarely quoting his subjects directly, Tammet’s authorial voice sometimes overshadows his portraits, either revealing or obscuring the inner lives he aims to share.

It’s been nearly 40 years since Sacks wrote about those twins, and many writers have since sought to liberate the concept of autism from clinical case studies. Tammet’s book contributes to this ongoing project. However, the book’s focus on achievements and exceptional abilities leaves some unease, seemingly fragile grounds on which to build a plea for tolerance and diversity.

Despite the differences in perception, Tammet’s subjects share inherently human desires: to be seen, understood, and loved. The book’s most engaging chapters explore these relationships—with friends, family, doctors, and colleagues—echoing the universal reliance on networks of care.

One striking portrait in the book is of Kana, a Japanese academic specializing in loneliness among autistic adults. Kana feels overwhelming loneliness in crowded cities and ultimately settles in Okinawa. In Okinawa, the culture of yuimaru, or "looking out for one another," resonates deeply with her. Tammet concludes that a language embracing autism and difference may already exist; we just need to listen.

Source: Wellcome Collection