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Mark Haddon’s parents were not really cut out for the job of having children.
They were more suited to designing abattoirs and keeping a pathologically clean and tidy house.
At least Mark had the consolations of The Weetabix Solar System Wallchart, walnut whips and the occasional Babycham.
Astringently honest and scalpel-sharp, this book is about being different and seeing the world differently; about how art, in all its varied forms, provides a way of understanding and coming to terms with the mess of human life.
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