The fabrication of causal connections

The Pleasure of My Company - Steve Martin (Hyperion, 2003)

A novella, set in early 2000s Santa Monica, about a young man with fairly debilitating OCD. And the ways in which his compulsions block him from the world, and how he tries to find a way back in.

There are parts of this novel that are truly lovely. Daniel is a sweet kid, albeit a strange one, and as narrator connects pretty well with the reader. I sympathized each time the OCD led to behavior that disconnected him from other people. Oh, and thank goodness for a portrayal of the disorder that isn't about compulsive neatness and handwashing. Daniel can only cross the street at perfectly aligned driveways (no curbs) and must always have lights on with a combined wattage (?) totaling 1125. He can tell you the day of the week for any given date (this is a trait I've always associated with autism, and in generally I wonder about the comorbidity of the two) and is generally amazing with numbers and letters.

I'd here like to go off on a tangent about the role of rituals to ward off anxiety. If the lights always add up to 1125 then... what? Or what is comforting about the compulsive need to check and check and check again that the door is locked? And how much do we play these games on a broader social scale? Where is the dividing line where what is socially acceptable (or even desirable) becomes disordered?

But enough of that, because my thoughts are inchoate. Back to the book. Daniel slowly negotiates new relationships with his most debilitating compulsions mostly by putting himself in a situation where he has no choice. And most especially by taking care of a small child. Then everything wraps up in an ending that is way too pat, but still sweet, for all that.