Project and content management for Contemporary Authors volumes
WORK TITLE: The Boy Who Loved Too Much
WORK NOTES:
PSEUDONYM(S):
BIRTHDATE:
WEBSITE: http://www.jenniferlatson.net/
CITY:
STATE:
COUNTRY:
NATIONALITY:
http://www.simonandschuster.com/authors/Jennifer-Latson/449412547 * https://www.linkedin.com/in/jennifer-latson-98907ab/
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PERSONAL
Female.
EDUCATION:Yale University, B.A., 2002; University of New Hampshire, M.F.A., 2013.
ADDRESS
CAREER
Chronicle, Centralia, WA, reporter, 2002-04; Olympian, Olympia, WA, reporter, 2004-06; Daily Press, Newport News, VA, reporter, 2006-08; Houston Chronicle, Houston, TX, reporter, 2008-10; University of New Hampshire, Durham, NH, graduate instructor, 2010-13; Rice Magazine, Houston, TX, writer and editor, 2013-15; Rice Business Wisdom, Houston, TX, staff editor, 2017—.
WRITINGS
Contributor to periodicals, including Boston Globe and Time.
SIDELIGHTS
Jennifer Latson, a former newspaper reporter, is author of The Boy Who Loved Too Much: A True Story of Pathological Friendliness, about a boy with a rare disorder known as Williams syndrome. The syndrome, she writes, is a “genetic fluke that strip[s] one in every 10,000 people of the inherent wariness, skepticism, and inhibition … hardwired into the rest of us.” People with Williams are loving and friendly to everyone they meet, and they tend to express affection effusively, not realizing that it is sometimes not welcome. They have difficulty with sustained conversations and relationships, however. They often have some degree of developmental delay and, sometimes, cardiovascular disorders; cardiologist J.C.P. Williams discovered the condition in 1961. It is caused by the absence of twenty-six genes out of the 20,000 that make up an individual’s DNA.
Latson spent three years monitoring the boy of the title, Eli, and his single mother, Gayle. Both names are pseudonyms. The author met Eli in 2011, when he was twelve, and she saw him enter puberty, as the syndrome began to cause even more problems in his life. He already was the target of his schoolmates’ ridicule, but it seemed not to bother him. He also had no awareness that strangers might mean him harm. As he became sexually mature, he developed a habit of hugging women he found attractive, even if he did not know them, and he had to be taught to avoid such displays of affection. His behavior eventually improved, but his mother has had to accept that Eli may never be able to live an independent life. Gayle has been a dedicated advocate for Eli, Latson reports, but she has had to modify her life for him. A lover of rock concerts and horror movies who once sported heavy makeup and tattoos, Gayle has opted for a more sedate lifestyle and appearance. The book closes with Eli entering high school.
Latson became interested in people with Williams syndrome after hearing a story on National Public Radio, she told Temple Grandin in an online interview at Refinery 29. “As an introvert, I wanted to learn from them, to study their social ease, because I kind of wanted to emulate them,” Latson said. “But I also thought: ‘How hard must it be to be that open to the world?’ You know, to trust everyone, to really have this kind of unconditional love for everyone. To me that seems terrifying. They’re so vulnerable.” Gayle gave the author unlimited access in exchange for having her name and Eli’s changed to protect their privacy, Latson told Houston Chronicle interviewer Alyson Ward. “They didn’t censor themselves around me,” Latson explained. “They didn’t say ‘leave the room’ when they had a difficult conversation.”
While Eli’s condition makes him susceptible to abuse, Latson noted, many people have reacted positively to their encounters with him. “Most of the time, I feel like his kindness and joy brought out kindness and joy in other people,” she told Ward. “There were times you could tell he had really affected someone, that he really made their day—and once in a while you could see they got something out of this meeting that was special. People were always giving him gifts or telling Gayle that he’s such a blessing.”
Several reviewers considered The Boy Who Loved Too Much a compelling story, told with empathy and respect. “The book could have been exploitative, but instead it’s a moving portrait of a mother facing the fact that her child has a different future from the one she imagined,” remarked Clare Wilson in New Scientist. She added: “Neatly interwoven with Eli’s story are the reasons scientists are fascinated,” such as the fact that research on Williams syndrome “has helped isolate genes for high blood sugar and hypertension.” A Publishers Weekly contributor made a similar point, saying Latson “skillfully interweaves the science … with a powerful story line.” In Booklist, Dane Carr noted that the author “blends life concerns and hard medical facts in this widely appealing chronicle.”
Some critics focused on her narrative of those life concerns. Tucker Coombe related in the online magazine Brevity: “Latson does a delicate dance here, illustrating everyday moments that are often mortifying for Gayle, hilarious to the reader, and which would be embarrassing for most people—but not Eli. She depicts him in all his earnest awkwardness, with great affection and not a hint of condescension.” A Kirkus Reviews commentator observed that the author “tells the story with great sympathy and eloquence, giving voice to the frustration, anguish, and despair a parent feels when their child struggles with a rare disorder.”
Mike Snyder, writing in the Houston Chronicle, reported: “It would be a mistake to squeeze this book into the ‘disease narrative’ genre. It transcends that niche, partly through the author’s reflections on what our reactions to people with Williams Syndrome have to say about the human condition.” In the New York Times Book Review, Ruth Padawer concluded: “While Latson’s storytelling is sometimes more dutiful than necessary, her book provides a thorough overview of Williams syndrome, and its thought-provoking paradox. No doubt life for people with Williams (and those who love them) has its difficulties. But given the state of the world today—the hate attacks, the divisiveness, the vitriol—it’s hard not to wish that we all had more kindheartedness and openness, even if our embrace of other humans is only metaphorical.”
BIOCRIT
PERIODICALS
Booklist, May 15, 2017, Dane Carr, review of The Boy Who Loved Too Much: A True Story of Pathological Friendliness, p. 4.
Boston Globe, June 27, 2017, Eric Liebetrau, “Saga of a Boy Who Was Genetically Nice.”
Houston Chronicle, June 16, 2017, Alyson Ward, “Jennifer Latson Talks about Immersion Journalism and ‘The Boy Who Loved Too Much'”; Mike Snyder, “Debut Author Tells a True Story of ‘Pathological Friendliness.'”
Houstonia, June, 2017, Jeanne Lyons Davis, “The Boy Who Loved Too Much Tells the Story of Pathological Friendliness.”
Kirkus Reviews, May 1, 2017, review of The Boy Who Loved Too Much.
New Scientist, June 24, 2017, Clare Wilson, “Can Heightened Empathy Be a Bad Thing?”
New York Times Book Review, June 25, 2017, Ruth Padawer, “All His Loving,” p. 17.
Pacific Standard, May/June, 2017, Peter C. Baker, “A Genetic Hunger for Connection and Friendship.”
Publishers Weekly, May 1, 2017, review of The Boy Who Loved Too Much, p. 55.
ONLINE
Banner Website, https://www.thebanner.org/ (June 16, 2017), Kristy Quist, review of The Boy Who Loved Too Much.
Brevity, http://brevitymag.com/ (July 31, 2017), Tucker Coombe, review of The Boy Who Loved Too Much.
Jennifer Latson Website, http://www.jenniferlatson.net (February 19, 2018).
Jennifer Latson LinkedIn Page, https://www.linkedin.com/ (February 19, 2018), brief biography and CV.
Refinery 29, http://www.refinery29.com/ (June 22, 2017), Temple Grandin, “What Williams Syndrome’s ‘Pathological Friendliness’ Has to Do with Autism.”
Simon & Schuster Website, http://www.simonandschuster.com/ (February 19, 2018), brief biography.
Utah Public Radio Website, http://upr.org/ (August 30, 2017), Tom Williams, “‘The Boy Who Loved Too Much’: Williams Syndrome on Wednesday’s Access Utah,” link to broadcast.
Jennifer Latson's first book, The Boy Who Loved Too Much, was published June 20 by Simon & Schuster. A former newspaper reporter with an MFA in creative nonfiction writing, Latson is a contributing book critic for the Boston Globe and a staff editor for Rice Business Wisdom, the online ideas magazine for Rice University's Jones Graduate School of Business in Houston.
Jennifer Latson
Jennifer Latson has written for The Boston Globe, the Houston Chronicle, and Time. She received an MFA in creative nonfiction from the University of New Hampshire and was a recipient of the Norman Mailer Fellowship for nonfiction in 2013. The Boy Who Loved Too Much is her first book.
Experience
Rice Business - Jones Graduate School of Business
Writer and editor for Rice Business Wisdom
Company NameRice Business - Jones Graduate School of Business
Dates EmployedMay 2017 – Present Employment Duration10 mos
LocationHouston, Texas Area
Boston Globe
Book Critic
Company NameBoston Globe
Dates EmployedNov 2013 – Present Employment Duration4 yrs 4 mos
Review fiction and literary nonfiction, especially science writing.
Rice University
Writer and editor for Rice Magazine
Company NameRice University
Dates EmployedSep 2015 – May 2017 Employment Duration1 yr 9 mos
LocationHouston, Texas Area
Wrote and edited stories for Rice Magazine, Rice's quarterly alumni publication.
Media (1)This position has 1 media
Rice Magazine – The Magazine of Rice University
Rice Magazine – The Magazine of Rice
University
This media is a document
Time Magazine
History Writer
Company NameTime Magazine
Dates EmployedSep 2014 – Sep 2015 Employment Duration1 yr 1 mo
Regular contributor to TIME.com's history section.
Media (1)This position has 1 media
Author Page--Jennifer Latson
Author
Page--Jennifer Latson
This media is a link
University of New Hampshire
Graduate Instructor
Company NameUniversity of New Hampshire
Dates EmployedSep 2010 – May 2013 Employment Duration2 yrs 9 mos
LocationDurham, NH
Taught First-Year Writing and Introduction to Creative Nonfiction to undergraduates.
Houston Chronicle
General Assignment/Business Reporter
Company NameHouston Chronicle
Dates EmployedMar 2008 – Jul 2010 Employment Duration2 yrs 5 mos
Covered breaking news and feature stories as a general assignment reporter and wrote about the economic recession as a business reporter.
Daily Press
Public Safety Reporter
Company NameDaily Press
Dates EmployedMar 2006 – Mar 2008 Employment Duration2 yrs 1 mo
Newport News, Virginia
The Olympian
City/County Government Reporter
Company NameThe Olympian
Dates EmployedAug 2004 – Mar 2006 Employment Duration1 yr 8 mos
Olympia, Wash.
The (Centralia) Chronicle
Rural Reporter
Company NameThe (Centralia) Chronicle
Dates EmployedSep 2002 – Aug 2004 Employment Duration2 yrs
Centralia, Wash.
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Education
University of New Hampshire
University of New Hampshire
Degree NameMFA Field Of StudyNonfiction Creative Writing
Dates attended or expected graduation 2010 – 2013
Yale University
Yale University
Degree NameB.A. Field Of StudyEnglish
Dates attended or expected graduation 1998 – 2002
Cum laude. Graduated with distinction in the English major.
Pomfret School
Pomfret School
Dates attended or expected graduation 1994 – 1998
Valedictorian.
Yale University
Yale University
Degree NameBachelor of Arts - BA Field Of StudyEnglish Language and Literature/Letters
Yale University
Yale University
Degree NameBachelor of Arts - BA Field Of StudyEnglish Language and Literature/Letters
Show less
Quoted in Sidelights: “tells the story with great sympathy and eloquence, giving voice to the frustration, anguish, and despair a parent feels when their child struggles with a rare disorder.”
Latson, Jennifer: THE BOY WHO LOVED TOO MUCH
Kirkus Reviews.
(May 1, 2017): From Book Review Index Plus. COPYRIGHT 2017 Kirkus Media LLC http://www.kirkusreviews.com/
Full Text:
Latson, Jennifer THE BOY WHO LOVED TOO MUCH Simon & Schuster (Adult Nonfiction) $26.00 6, 20 ISBN: 978-1-4767-7404-6
A personal look at Williams syndrome, "a genetic fluke that strip[s] one in every 10,000 people of the inherent wariness, skepticism, and inhibition that [are] hardwired into the rest of us."In her debut, former Houston Chronicle reporter Latson combines the moving story of Gayle and her son Eli, a child with Williams, with scientific data on this rare genetic disorder. Characterized by an elfish appearance, sleeplessness, heart murmurs, sensitivity to sound, and cognitive and developmental difficulties, the biggest issue with Williams syndrome is that people who have it are overly friendly, too trusting, and unconditionally loving toward everyone, including strangers. For Gayle, this meant she was not able to let Eli out of her sight, for she never knew when he would head toward someone with open arms, wanting a hug or wanting to give a hug. Approximately 30,000 Americans have Williams syndrome, making it less common than Down syndrome or autism, but its effects on the parents and children are no less profound and life- changing. Latson shares Gayle's story from the moments of Eli's diagnosis and into his teen years. As a single mother, she struggles with raising Eli, trying to navigate the health care system, work, and finding places where Eli can be himself without causing disruptions. Attending a special camp helped Eli make new friends, but Gayle was unable to relax and enjoy herself. When Eli entered puberty, Gayle faced further obstacles, as Eli openly experienced sexual desire but was not fully aware of what that meant physically. Latson tells the story with great sympathy and eloquence, giving voice to the frustration, anguish, and despair a parent feels when their child struggles with a rare disorder. A well-researched, perceptive exploration of a rare genetic disorder seen through the eyes of a mother and son.
Source Citation (MLA 8th Edition)
"Latson, Jennifer: THE BOY WHO LOVED TOO MUCH." Kirkus Reviews, 1 May 2017.
PowerSearch, http://link.galegroup.com/apps/doc/A491002719/GPS?u=schlager&
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sid=GPS&xid=84b3cbea. Accessed 23 Jan. 2018. Gale Document Number: GALE|A491002719
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Quoted in Sidelights: “blends life concerns and hard medical facts in this widely appealing chronicle.”
http://go.galegroup.com/ps/marklist.do?actionCmd=GET_MA...
The Boy Who Loved Too Much: A True
Story of Pathological Friendliness
Dane Carr
Booklist.
113.18 (May 15, 2017): p4. From Book Review Index Plus.
COPYRIGHT 2017 American Library Association http://www.ala.org/ala/aboutala/offices/publishing/booklist_publications/booklist/booklist.cfm
Full Text:
The Boy Who Loved Too Much: A True Story of Pathological Friendliness. By Jennifer Latson. June 2017.304p. Simon & Schuster, $26 (9781476774046). 618.92.
Journalist Latson portrays Eli, a boy with Williams syndrome, a genetic disorder with a striking feature: it causes excessive friendliness. This instant, hyperendearment can make it seem that Williams people "love" complete strangers as much as immediate family. Among the disorder's other problems are developmental delays, which can be hidden by exceptionally expressive speaking skills. Family members know, of course, that serious life obstacles lurk beneath the charming veneer. Just when it seems that Eli is stuck in an untenable stage in puberty, making frequent inappropriate physical contact with others, he suddenly improves. These leaps are the hard-earned fruits of Eli's mom, whose Herculean diligence and self-sacrifice are surely some of the best examples of family commitment in recent literature. With Williams caused by the loss of only 26 of the 20,000 human genes, it allows researchers unprecedented opportunities for studying the links between genetics and behavior. This new knowledge will shed light on a variety of conditions, including autism. Latson blends life concerns and hard medical facts in this widely appealing chronicle of a fascinating disorder.--Dane Carr
Source Citation (MLA 8th Edition)
Carr, Dane. "The Boy Who Loved Too Much: A True Story of Pathological Friendliness."
Booklist, 15 May 2017, p. 4. PowerSearch, http://link.galegroup.com/apps/doc/A496084671 /GPS?u=schlager&sid=GPS&xid=12f13376. Accessed 23 Jan. 2018.
Gale Document Number: GALE|A496084671
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Quoted in Sidelights: “skillfully interweaves the science … with a powerful story line.”
http://go.galegroup.com/ps/marklist.do?actionCmd=GET_MA...
The Boy Who Loved Too Much: A True Story of Pathological Friendliness
Publishers Weekly.
264.18 (May 1, 2017): p55. From Book Review Index Plus. COPYRIGHT 2017 PWxyz, LLC http://www.publishersweekly.com/
Full Text:
* The Boy Who Loved Too Much: A True Story of Pathological Friendliness Jennifer Latson. Simon & Schuster, $26 (304p) ISBN 978-1-4767-7404-6
This terrific debut from Latson, a journalist, takes up the story of Eli and his mom, Gayle, when Eli is 12 years old. Any parent will recognize the factors in play: hormones, parental expectations for school, concerns about bullying, and so on. The multiplier effect for Gayle is her son's genetic disorder, known as Williams syndrome. Since Williams amps up the oxytocin in Eli's system, making him love everyone indiscriminately, Gayle has to teach her son skills that run counter to his nature--but that may keep him safe. Eli's slowed development and stiff joints mean that complete independence from his mother at any future point is unlikely. Gayle, a single mom, confides, "I want him to live a long, happy life. I just want to be there for him.... If I could live just five minutes longer than he does, I'd be happy." The author skillfully interweaves the science--what we do and don't know about genetic disorders such as Williams--with a powerful story line. Eli and especially Gayle are beautifully drawn, and their struggles with an unknown future are both unique to their situation and universal to all parents. As the book's perspective deliberately pans out to include teachers, counselors, family, friends, and, finally, Eli's entire eighth-grade class, Latson delivers some unforgettable lessons about inclusion and parenthood. Agent: Brettne Bloom, Kneerim, Williams & Bloom. (June)
Source Citation (MLA 8th Edition)
"The Boy Who Loved Too Much: A True Story of Pathological Friendliness." Publishers Weekly,
1 May 2017, p. 55. PowerSearch, http://link.galegroup.com/apps/doc/A491575352 /GPS?u=schlager&sid=GPS&xid=dba95ac6. Accessed 23 Jan. 2018.
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http://go.galegroup.com/ps/marklist.do?actionCmd=GET_MA...
Gale Document Number: GALE|A491575352
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Quoted in Sidelights: “While Latson’s storytelling is sometimes more dutiful than necessary, her book provides a thorough overview of Williams syndrome, and its thought-provoking paradox. No doubt life for people with Williams (and those who love them) has its difficulties. But given the state of the world today — the hate attacks, the divisiveness, the vitriol — it’s hard not to wish that we all had more kindheartedness and openness, even if our embrace of other humans is only metaphorical.”
26 Missing Genes and the Exuberant Affections They Lead To
By RUTH PADAWERJUNE 23, 2017
Photo
Credit Rachel Levitt
THE BOY WHO LOVED TOO MUCH
A True Story of Pathological Friendliness
By Jennifer Latson
290 pp. Simon & Schuster. $26.
Imagine having a child who is extremely gregarious, generous and filled with boundless joy.
It might seem like a parent’s dream, but it’s not easy raising a child with the rare genetic accident that causes such exuberant affection, partly because that affection is so undiscriminating. Called Williams syndrome, the condition eliminates the skepticism and social caution that seem hard-wired into most other human beings. Instead, people with Williams typically have an insatiable urge to befriend, trust and touch everyone, even strangers, a social overdrive that leaves them vulnerable to disdain and exploitation.
One in 10,000 people has Williams syndrome, which commonly includes other characteristics too: moderate intellectual disability, cardiac and GI problems, poor muscle coordination, A.D.H.D., visual-spatial deficits, and a gift for music, language and storytelling. But Williams’s most unusual and scientifically intriguing feature is that lack of social inhibition, which is what the journalist Jennifer Latson explores in “The Boy Who Loved Too Much.” Though she addresses the science of the syndrome, most of the book is devoted to the experiences of a boy with Williams — and the challenges his mother, a single parent, faces as she wrangles with the sometimes heart-wrenching consequences of his unbridled friendliness.
“This tendency, the hallmark of Williams syndrome, is both its silver lining and its most disabling feature,” Latson writes. “In their unstoppable urge to connect with others, those with the syndrome alienate the people they hope to befriend, and often attract people who are more eager to take advantage of their indiscriminate affection than to reciprocate it.”
Continue reading the main story
The Boy Who Loved Too Much: A True Story of Pathological Friendliness Jennifer Latson
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Williams is caused by the deletion of only 26 of the estimated 20,000 genes that form a person’s DNA. But the impact of that minuscule deletion is enormous.
Photo
Although most children with Williams have an I.Q. and eager sociability similar to that of those with Down syndrome, children with Williams typically have less tolerance for frustration and significantly less impulse control. Latson describes the many ways Eli (a pseudonym to protect his privacy) trampled social boundaries. Even after he eventually understood he was supposed to keep his hands to himself, he still bounded up to strangers, threw his arms around them and sometimes hollered, “I love you!” Some recipients of his affection responded kindly, many were flummoxed, some were appalled or cruel.
Throughout childhood and middle school, Eli seemed unaware that his efforts to connect were backfiring, badly. But his mother, Gayle, was well aware of the rejections. (Eli’s parents had separated when he was 8, and Gayle was raising Eli on her own.) She saw how uneasy people were about Eli’s gushing friendliness, and knew that at school, children slid away from him in the cafeteria, or pretended they didn’t hear his attempts at conversation, no matter how loudly he spoke. Even when Eli was wounded by insults, he not only forgave or forgot them, but remained convinced the bullies were his friends.
“He either didn’t realize or didn’t mind that he was unlike his classmates,” Latson writes. “He walked off the school bus singing every afternoon, whether or not he’d been teased. Gayle wasn’t sure whether Eli’s imperviousness to social slights meant that he was more intellectually disabled than some of his Williams peers or simply more happy-go-lucky. Either way, she wondered if he’d grow to become more self-aware — and whether she’d want him to.”
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Gayle was caught between wanting to protect her son and wanting to help him become more independent. Gayle leaned toward hypervigilance, painfully aware of Eli’s vulnerabilities and defenselessness. Except for when he was at school, Gayle never let him out of her sight, inadvertently isolating herself from social interactions too.
Despite the rarity of the syndrome, Williams has disproportionately contributed to the unveiling of genes’ role in social behavior — which Latson lays out in an accessible way. Unlike autism, Williams has a clear genetic footprint that produces a predictable set of traits and behaviors. That predictability offered a tidy opening for geneticists. They found that not only does the absence of those 26 genes lead to affection overdrive, but people with an extra copy of those genes have the opposite challenge: They tend to suffer from social phobia, so much so that some are diagnosed as autistic.
And yet, despite the wide distinction in sociability between the two syndromes, Williams and autism share some symptoms: unusual sensitivity to sound and texture, hand flapping, repetitive motion, rocking, perseveration and an obsession with mechanical objects and things that spin. (Eli, for example, loves ceiling fans, vacuum cleaners and electric floor scrubbers, so much so that he compulsively searches the internet for videos of whirring floor scrubbers.)
With recent advances in gene therapy, some scientists hope to be able one day to replace the missing genes in people with Williams syndrome. To Latson’s credit, she notes that others consider it unethical to try to “fix” people with Williams or other neurological conditions, like autism. Advocates of neurodiversity say that instead of trying to make everyone fit social norms — being cautious, skeptical, self-involved — society ought to broaden its notion of acceptable behavior.
Norms, after all, are not fixed; what’s “socially appropriate” differs by culture. Though Latson reports that the chance of having Williams doesn’t vary across countries or ethnic groups, different societies treat Williams quite differently. A cross-cultural study found that Japanese parents of children with Williams were far more uneasy with their children’s exuberant affection than were American parents of children with the same condition. In Greece, on the other hand, parents whose children had Williams were unfazed by their children’s intense social efforts.
While Latson’s storytelling is sometimes more dutiful than necessary, her book provides a thorough overview of Williams syndrome, and its thought-provoking paradox. No doubt life for people with Williams (and those who love them) has its difficulties. But given the state of the world today — the hate attacks, the divisiveness, the vitriol — it’s hard not to wish that we all had more kindheartedness and openness, even if our embrace of other humans is only metaphorical.
Ruth Padawer, a contributing writer at The New York Times Magazine, teaches at Columbia University’s Graduate School of Journalism.
A version of this review appears in print on June 25, 2017, on Page BR17 of the Sunday Book Review with the headline: All His Loving. Today's Paper|Subscribe
The Boy Who Loved Too Much Tells the Story of Pathological Friendliness
Jennifer Latson’s first book follows the life of a 12-year-old with “cocktail party syndrome,” which isn’t always as cheerful as it sounds.
By Jeanne Lyons Davis 6/12/2017 at 12:00am Published in the June 2017 issue of Houstonia
0617 town boy who loved too much book ev6q3f
Image: Courtesy Simon & Schuster
It was in 2010 that Jennifer Latson first heard of “cocktail party syndrome,” a disorder that makes people unabashedly friendly, socially fearless and incapable of distrust. A self-described introvert, she wondered: “Why was this diagnosed as an illness?”
The mystifying disorder, officially called Williams syndrome, so fascinated Latson—a local journalist who’s written for The Houston Chronicle, The Boston Globe and Time—that she wrote her first book, The Boy Who Loved Too Much, about it. She’ll discuss the work of narrative nonfiction, just out from Simon & Schuster, this month at Brazos Bookstore.
To research the book, which was also her MFA thesis at the University of New Hampshire, she spent three years following the lives of 12-year-old Eli D’Angelo, who has Williams—and, she says, “speaks with exclamation points!”—and his mother Gayle in Connecticut.
“Meeting me truly was as exciting as opening the biggest present,” writes Latson of their first encounter, in 2011, when the boy immediately hugs her. Twice. But she isn’t special; at that point in his development, he does this when greeting everyone, every single time.
0617 town jennifer latson book author goaezj
Jennifer Latson
Image: Eric Kayne
Eli doesn’t look or act like a 12-year-old; he’s shorter, with chubby baby cheeks, a toothy smile and a cheerful, young-for-his-age disposition. “Hi, Jennie!” he shouts, “Nice to see you! I like your shirt!” and, when she leaves, “I miss you!”
“He was pretty amazing to be around—very outgoing and friendly,” Latson says. “But people with Williams don’t read social cues. They assume everyone is their friend, and it’s okay to hug strangers. Nothing is ever ‘too much.’”
Williams syndrome is much more complex than an absence of social inhibition. Cardiologist J.C.P. Williams discovered the still relatively obscure condition in 1961. “He noticed that people with similar heart problems were also very friendly and had distinctive facial features,” says Latson. “It was originally called Elfin Face syndrome, which was not the best name.”
In 1993, geneticists made a breakthrough in understanding the syndrome. Those who have it—1 in 10,000—are missing one copy of the elastin gene. From there, scientists discovered that 26 to 28 neighboring genes from one strand of chromosome 7 are missing, a microdeletion the size of a paper cut.
People with Williams have mild to moderate developmental delays and intellectual disabilities; distinctive facial features including upturned noses, protruding ears, short heights and pointy chins; and, often, cardiovascular problems. Eli has all of these characteristics, in addition to a classic Williams personality. And as Latson follows his life, right up until he enters high school, she finds herself wondering: How do you become an adult when you’re so vulnerable?
“People with Williams are oversocial, but without social judgment. They initiate and seek interaction, but have difficulty making friends,” geneticist Julie Korenberg explains in the book. “They can’t sustain a conversation. They’re engaging and gregarious, but they have a very limited, repetitive social repertoire.”
Eli, Latson writes, is unequivocally happy, outgoing and empathetic, but lacking the social savviness to make lasting connections or perceive social rejection and negativity. As he enters his teenage years, basic social norms, like “stranger danger” and “It’s not okay for grown men to hug women they don’t know”—have a higher learning curve for him. But today, Latson, who’s kept up with Eli and his mom since completing the project, says the young man, now 18, has made great strides toward acclimating socially.
In the book, Latson concludes that the world has much to learn from Eli and others like him. “He highlights some of humanity’s best features, normally obscured by suspicion and selfishness we have acquired over eons of evolution in competition with each other,” she writes. “People with Williams don’t have to learn the Golden Rule or be taught equality or inclusion.” And that’s a gift.
Latson reads from and discusses The Boy Who Loved Too Much at Brazos Bookstore, 2421 Bissonnet St., on June 20 at 7. Free.
Quoted in Sidelights: “As an introvert, I wanted to learn from them, to study their social ease, because I kind of wanted to emulate them,” Latson said. “But I also thought: ‘How hard must it be to be that open to the world?’ You know, to trust everyone, to really have this kind of unconditional love for everyone. To me that seems terrifying. They’re so vulnerable.”
What Williams Syndrome's "Pathological Friendliness" Has To Do With Autism
Jennifer Latson, Temple Grandin
June 22, 2017, 1:50 PM
Photo: Courtesy of Simon & Schuster.
Journalist Jennifer Latson’s new book The Boy Who Loved Too Much: A True Story Of Pathological Friendliness tells the story of a young man with Williams syndrome, a genetic disorder that is sometimes called the opposite of autism: People who have it tend to be extremely outgoing and irrepressibly friendly. Temple Grandin, an advocate for people with autism and the author of The Autistic Brain and Thinking in Pictures, spoke with Jennifer about the book — and how autism and Williams are more alike than they first appear.
Temple Grandin: How did you come about writing this book?
Jennifer Latson: I first heard about Williams syndrome in a news story on NPR, where they were mostly talking about it in terms of the social aspect. It sounded so amazing that I wondered, “Why is this even a disorder? It sounds like it’s just some charming and engaging people.” Obviously, as I learned more about it, I learned how disabling it is and that it’s not just about being charming and engaging. There are all these other symptoms, too.
TG: Right, they are social, but they also have intellectual impairments and health issues. But that’s the reason that motivated you to write the book?
JL: Yes. As an introvert, I wanted to learn from them, to study their social ease, because I kind of wanted to emulate them. But I also thought: "How hard must it be to be that open to the world?" You know, to trust everyone, to really have this kind of unconditional love for everyone. To me that seems terrifying. They’re so vulnerable.
TG: And truly vulnerable people get taken advantage of. That’s true for autism, too.
JL: Exactly. So that’s why I wanted to write about a young person with Williams, right on the cusp of adolescence, to see: How can you grow up; how can you ever be independent with this syndrome? Can you ever learn to overcome that sense of "Everyone is good and worthy of my trust all the time"?
TG: Well, you just have to learn that they’re not, and try to avoid situations where people could do something bad to them.
JL: True, but that’s hard to learn when you’re wired to believe that everyone means well. Even if they just pretend to. People with Williams don’t always have the ability to tell who’s sincere and who’s not. Even sarcasm can be very hard for them to pick up.
TG: There’s a lot of things like that with autism. Certain jokes I didn’t understand that well. Or sayings like, “Strike when the iron is hot,” where you really mean “take the opportunity when it presents itself.” I mean, I have had to learn what those things mean. And now I find myself using a lot of those expressions, like “the horse is hot to trot.” But when I say “the horse is hot to trot,” I see a horse in the starting gate, raring to go.
JL: So you picture it literally.
TG: Oh yeah. I do, definitely. Now, people with Williams syndrome tend to be very musical.
JL: Yes, very much so. Both in the sense of appreciating music and in making it. Some of them are really musically gifted, although some are not.
TG: All of these things have a lot of variation. The thing that’s interesting to me about autism and Williams syndrome is that you see a brain can be more social/emotional or a brain can be more thinking or cognitive. At what point is something just part of normal variation? Now, I know Williams syndrome has a specific genetic abnormality, but I think on the autism side of things there’s a part where, in milder forms, it’s just normal variation.
I recently found a paper on solitary versus more social animals, like large cats, for example. Lions are more social than panthers or tigers. And that’s just normal variation. And there could be some genetic overlap with autism. I’ve done a lot of thinking about that.
JL: Do you think eventually researchers are going to find a genetic cause for autism, or do you think it’s different for everyone?
TG: I think autism is going to be more of a continuous trait, where there are lots of little genetic variations and then the more they dig into it, they’re going to find that they’re just normal variations. But it’s not going to be simple. They might find out that autism is a lot of different things. Right now we’ve got a very variable, heterogeneous bunch of people with the same label on them. It’s not precise. A Williams diagnosis is much more precise.
JL: As far as the overlap between Williams and autism, how much do you think they are actual opposites?
TG: Socially there’s a lot of opposites. But for things like impulse control, both conditions can have that.
JL: Sure, and I think for Eli, the boy I wrote about, one of the biggest challenges was that even though he’s outgoing, he’s friendly, and he loves people, he had a hard time connecting with other people. So making a friend was actually really hard for him, despite the fact that he really put himself out there.
TG: Well, I got friends who shared interests. We’d ride horses together. We’d do electronics together. So it’s important to give these kid things like scouting, art, theatre, music, band — people with Williams are really into music, well, there’s all kinds of musical stuff that you can do with other people. That’s where they’re probably going to be most likely to have friends.
Quoted in Sidelights: “Latson does a delicate dance here, illustrating everyday moments that are often mortifying for Gayle, hilarious to the reader, and which would be embarrassing for most people––but not Eli. She depicts him in all his earnest awkwardness, with great affection and not a hint of condescension.”
A Review of Jennifer Latson’s The Boy Who Loved Too Much
by Tucker Coombe • July 31, 2017
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920x920Gayle D’Angelo was worried about her son. While his classmates in daycare were learning to walk and talk, Eli would simply coo and smile, then hold out his arms for a hug. “He catapulted himself into the arms of a schoolmate’s mother one day and climbed into the lap of a burly man at a shoe store the next,” writes Jennifer Latson in The Boy Who Loved Too Much: A True Story of Pathological Friendliness.
At the suggestion of another parent, Gayle decided to look up a disorder called Williams syndrome. She began to read, then leaned over a trashcan and threw up.
In this debut title, Latson introduces us to Eli, Gayle, and a genetic disability whose most distinctive symptom is a complete absence of social reserve. “[W]hat would it be like to go through life this irremediably vulnerable, biologically unable to peel your heart from your sleeve and lock it safely inside?” she writes.
Latson spent three years shadowing Eli and Gayle (their names have been changed), starting when Eli is eleven. Her portrayals––subtle, complex, and unexpectedly funny––reflect this. “It was easy to fall in love with Eli,” she writes. I fell in love with him too: he’s a joyful, open-hearted boy who remains blissfully unaware of his shortcomings. Latson’s depiction of Gayle––a single mother of surprising, almost unimaginable strength––is rich and nuanced. Before she ever hears about Williams syndrome, Gayle is known to friends and family as an outspoken rebel, a fan of hard-rock concerts and horror-movie conventions. After Eli is diagnosed, Gayle trades in her heavy eyeliner and purple lipstick for sweater sets. She decorates the apartment with pictures of Cookie Monster, and delights Eli by dangling twirly, paper decorations from the doorframes.
Gayle’s ability to subvert the trappings of her old life was particularly striking to me. Before I had my first child, I feared, secretly, that the simple act of having a baby would somehow cause me to morph into an unrecognizable version of myself: would I spend my free time placidly pushing a stroller through the mall? Banish the family pets to the basement? Stop shaving my legs? In Gayle, Latson shows us someone who’s realized she has to change. To advocate for her disabled son, she must present a calm, composed version of herself to the world. The rebel and the fighter––needed more than ever––must stay below the surface, hidden along with her tattoos and ear discs.
Latson delves into the genetics of Williams syndrome, examines the prospects for gene therapy, and places the disorder in its historical context. It’s a relatively rare condition, she explains, accompanied by bewildering symptoms. People with Williams––often recognizable by their elfin-shaped faces––tend to be verbally proficient and deeply affected by music. They have difficulty with spatial concepts (making it hard, for example, to draw a simple figure) and are often plagued by anxiety, phobias, and fixations. (Eli, not atypically, is obsessed with industrial floor scrubbers.) But most notable is their highly social, effusive personality. Historians surmise they may have served as jesters and fools in the courts of medieval and Renaissance Europe.
Latson shows Gayle and Eli facing all kinds of new situations: some of the book’s funniest and most touching scenes take place at a Williams syndrome camp, where Eli finds himself surrounded by uninhibited, exuberant kids just like himself. But it’s the onset of adolescence that poses the greatest peril. The stakes here are high: Eli must learn certain social skills so that he can navigate the complexities of adulthood, and “whether or not he could do so would mean the difference between being an active member of the human tribe, or living life on the margins, facing an especially acute loneliness.” By age thirteen, Eli still sings the Cookie Monster song, but his hormones are surging out of control. Once-innocent hugs are now directed toward large-breasted women: “Eli was a stage,” writes Latson, “on which puberty played out for all to see.” Gayle enacts a strict no-hugging policy: it’s handshakes and high-fives from now on. But Eli will not––cannot––comply.
Latson does a delicate dance here, illustrating everyday moments that are often mortifying for Gayle, hilarious to the reader, and which would be embarrassing for most people––but not Eli. She depicts him in all his earnest awkwardness, with great affection and not a hint of condescension. The book closes as Eli begins high school. I, for one, wish I could have stayed with Eli and Gayle just a little longer.
__
Tucker Coombe writes about nature and education from her home in Cincinnati. Her work has appeared most recently in The Rumpus and Los Angeles Review of Books.
Saga of a boy who was genetically nice
By Eric Liebetrau Globe Correspondent June 27, 2017
When Jennifer Latson first met 12-year-old Eli in the winter of 2011, his “greeting was comically hyperbolic,” but he “radiated earnest warmth.” Eli has Williams syndrome, a rare “genetic fluke that strip[s] one in every 10,000 people of the inherent wariness, skepticism, and inhibition . . . hardwired into the rest of us.”
In her first book, the former Houston Chronicle reporter traces the three years she spent shadowing Eli and his mother, Gayle (both names changed). The narrative is alternately moving and heartbreaking, as Latson walks readers through the tumultuous obstacles that Eli and Gayle face daily. Throughout, Latson demonstrates a sharp, journalistic eye for telling detail and the ability to capture poignant moments without resorting to cliché or overly sappy writing.
Since “[t]hey have the social drive but not the cognitive ability to use it effectively,” people with Williams (about 30,000 in the United States) have enormous difficulty navigating social situations and, especially for children, making genuine friends. For Eli, a “friend was simply someone he’d interacted joyfully with — a definition that encompassed nearly everyone.” In fact, he “considered every social interaction worthwhile, regardless of the outcome.”
And it’s not just social issues that cause complications; Williams also brings physical problems as well, including gastrointestinal distress, joint and muscle problems, obesity, vision and spatial issues. Most also experience some learning and cognitive challenges. The majority of Williams patients can’t drive a car, and many require care for their entire lives.
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For Gayle, the diagnosis was devastating; as a single mother, it was a particularly daunting challenge. Her own mother has been an invaluable resource of support and care, but each day is a constant struggle between letting Eli develop a sense of independence while also protecting him from bullying and exploitation (over 90 percent of people with developmental disabilities suffer at least one instance of sexual abuse in their lives). A Williams Facebook group has offered vital information as well, with fellow parents connecting and sharing their stories and methods for navigating the unpredictable peaks and valleys.
As any mother or father can attest, puberty is one of the most fraught times of parenthood, and it’s infinitely more so for people with Williams. Latson vividly portrays this struggle through her portraits of Eli at school and at a camp designed for children and adolescents with Williams. As she writes, “pumping adolescent hormones into what was essentially a five-year-old’s brain was a recipe for trouble.” Imagine the “surliness of a typical teen mixed with the irrational volatility of a two-year-old.”
Refreshingly, Latson does not sugarcoat Gayle’s very real mental and emotional battles as she tries to make her son’s life as fulfilling as possible, and readers will be hard pressed not to empathize with Gayle’s attendant fight to maintain some sense of self. “Gayle had never noticed her identity slipping away,” writes Latson, who goes on to a broader discussion of the consequences of caregiving, which often requires that mothers sacrifice “retirement dreams and trad[e] empty nest syndrome for eternal motherhood.” Above all, what stands out is Gayle’s unconditional love and devotion for her son.
As we watch Eli grow — often haltingly, with steps forward followed by frequent regressions — we also see how his “proclivity for storytelling” becomes a “valuable tool to help [him] manage the syndrome’s disabling effects.” Latson delves into how others might benefit from emulating some of the disorder’s positive elements — e.g., less separation anxiety, no racial bias — and she interweaves throughout Eli’s story sufficiently detailed explanations of the science involved with Williams and other similar genetic disorders.
Near the end, in one of the most heartwarming chapters, the author relates a discussion from Eli’s eighth-grade science class on genetics, in which the students displayed great compassion and “sober curiosity,” asking thoughtful questions and showing genuine interest in Eli as a unique individual. Ultimately, “his sincere warmth, antithetical as it was to coolness, had upended the normal rules of popularity, making him a nearly universally beloved figure in his class.” In this balanced, readable work, Latson effectively and sympathetically captures Eli’s essential humanity and opens a clear window on a little-understood genetic disorder.
THE BOY WHO LOVED TOO MUCH:
A True Story of Pathological Friendliness
By Jennifer Latson
Simon and Schuster, 290 pp., $26
Eric Liebetrau, the managing editor and nonfiction editor of Kirkus Reviews, can be reached at eliebetrau@kirkus.com.
Quoted in Sidelights: “They didn’t censor themselves around me,” Latson explained. “They didn’t say ‘leave the room’ when they had a difficult conversation.” “Most of the time, I feel like his kindness and joy brought out kindness and joy in other people,” she told Ward. “There were times you could tell he had really affected someone, that he really made their day—and once in a while you could see they got something out of this meeting that was special. People were always giving him gifts or telling Gayle that he’s such a blessing.”
Jennifer Latson talks about immersion journalism and 'The Boy Who Loved Too Much'
By Alyson Ward Updated 4:17 pm, Friday, June 16, 2017
Jennifer Latson's "The Boy Who Loved Too Much" started out as a thesis for her master of fine arts degree in creative nonfiction at the University of New Hampshire. We asked her what it took to tell the story of a family from the inside.
Why did you decide to write about Williams Syndrome?
I was coming home from work, listening to NPR, and Alix Spiegel did this story about a kid with Williams Syndrome. It talked about the social aspects - how they love everyone, they run up to strangers and hug them. My first thought was, "Why is this even a disorder?"
I was headed to grad school, and I wanted to do narrative, immersive journalism. I moved from Houston to New Hampshire, and as soon as I got to New Hampshire I started corresponding with the Williams Syndrome Association. I wanted to get authorization, basically, and let people know I'm out there. ... They were so welcoming.
author Jennifer Latson Photo: Courtesy
Photo: Courtesy
author Jennifer Latson
How did you find Eli and his mother, Gayle?
I met Gayle before I met Eli, and she really won me over as a person I wanted to work with. ... Some people didn't get what I was trying to do. I'd show up at somebody's house and they'd kind of assemble the family in a line: "OK, interview us!" I'd be like, "Well, you actually just want to do what you're doing, and I'm just going to be here watching every move and writing it in my notebook." You could tell some people weren't comfortable with this and it wasn't going to work. ...
(Gayle) was just so straightforward and so self-aware. You could ask her, "What were you thinking?" and she could identify it and articulate it, which not everybody can. And she seems to have a supernaturally good memory, which is so helpful.
"The Boy Who Loved Too Much" by Jennifer Latson Photo: Courtesy
Photo: Courtesy
"The Boy Who Loved Too Much" by Jennifer Latson
You spent time with this family in intimate, uncomfortable moments.
There's a scene, later in the book, where we're at this Williams Syndrome convention in Boston. And Eli throws a tantrum and headbutts his grandma. That was a hard one. I was trying to give them some space, but also write everything down.
In the book, you've changed the names of Eli and Gayle, and you've changed a few identifying characteristics. How did you negotiate the level of anonymity you'd give them?
Gayle and I were just talking about this. When I came to her, I did say I wanted this to be a book. But at the time, it was my MFA thesis. She said, "At the time, it was easier to say yes because this was just a school project (and I thought), No one's ever going to read this."
After the book sold, it was like: We really have to be serious about this. Of course, as a journalist, I wanted everything to be true. I wanted the names to be right, I wanted all the identifying details to be accurate, because it means so much to me. But (Gayle) said: "Will it mean so much to your readers if my name is different?"
The compromise we made is she gave me full access. They didn't censor themselves around me. They didn't say "leave the room" when they had a difficult conversation. The fact that she told me nothing was off the record made me think, "OK. Well, in exchange for that, I can change your name."
More Information
Author appearance
Jennifer Latson will discuss and sign "The Boy Who Loved Too Much," 7 p.m. Tuesday, Brazos Bookstore, 2421 Bissonnet; 713-523-0701 or brazosbookstore.com.
It was mostly for (Eli). She didn't want him to someday feel like his dignity had been compromised because I wrote about his experiences with puberty. Also, I think she just doesn't know what the response is going to be to the book. Once you identify yourself, you can't un-identify yourself.
What's your relationship with Gayle now that the book is finished?
We talk on the phone once a week and we probably text or email each other daily. It's an intense relationship. In some ways, I feel I'm closer to her than I am to some of my friends. I've seen so much of her life, and I've also asked her questions that I don't usually ask my friends. I see us being connected for life.
Your book revealed just how unwelcoming the world can be for someone with a disability.
I went into this thinking, "OK. Things are not going to go well for this kid. It's going to be a constant fight and people will be bullying him, teasing him, taking advantage of him in different ways." That's what Gayle was worried about, too, and she was so protective of him. I guess the thing that surprised me was that nine times out of 10, the reaction was actually positive.
(I was) watching him run up to these people and cringing — how is this person going to react? If it was me, if I didn't know what Williams Syndrome was or that this kid had it ... I would have freaked out, and I might not even have been nice.
Seeing him win people over was probably the most surprising thing. ... Most of the time, I feel like his kindness and joy brought out kindness and joy in other people. There were times you could tell he had really affected someone, that he really made their day — and once in a while you could see they got something out of this meeting that was special. People were always giving him gifts or telling Gayle that he's such a blessing.
Our reviewer says that this book transcends the "disease narrative" genre - that it's a story about the human condition.
I think we can identify (with Eli). Even though you and I don't run up to strangers and hug them, there's that sense of your fragile emotional self when you're trying to connect with another person. Even though we're so much more sophisticated and guarded about it, there's always that risk of being rejected, being taken advantage of. I feel like watching Eli doing this is like watching my unguarded heart."
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A Genetic Hunger for Connection and Friendship
Jennifer Latson's debut illustrates a boy's coming-of-age, complicated by a genetic disorder that strips peoples' social inhibitions.
Peter C. Baker
May 30, 2017
The Boy Who Loved Too Much: A True Story of Pathological Friendliness.
The Boy Who Loved Too Much: A True Story of Pathological Friendliness.
(Photo: Simon & Schuster)
The Boy Who Loved Too Much: A True Story of Pathological Friendliness
Jennifer Latson
Simon & Schuster
Jennifer Latson's impressively intimate debut follows three years in the childhood of Eli, who is one of approximately 30,000 Americans with a genetic disorder called Williams syndrome. People with Williams can have cardiac problems, learning disabilities, motor complications—and a near-total lack of social inhibitions. Hungry for connection and friendship, Eli is irrepressibly open with every stranger he meets; inevitably this backfires, instantly marking him as "different." Watson intersperses evocative scenes from Eli's life as he approaches high school with the history of the disorder. The emotional heart of the story is Eli's relationship with his single mother, Gayle, who struggles with the impossible question of how to protect her too-trusting son while simultaneously preparing him to chart his own path in a world that is often dangerous for its least-skeptical souls.
A version of this story originally appeared in the May/June 2017 issue of Pacific Standard. Subscribe now and get eight issues/year or purchase a single copy of the magazine.
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Peter C. Baker
By
Peter C. Baker
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Quoted in Sidelights: “The book could have been exploitative, but instead it’s a moving portrait of a mother facing the fact that her child has a different future from the one she imagined,” remarked Clare Wilson in New Scientist. She added: Neatly interwoven with Eli’s story are the reasons scientists are fascinated,” such as the fact that research on Williams syndrome “has helped isolate genes for high blood sugar and hypertension.”
Can heightened empathy be a bad thing?
The Boy Who Loved Too Much sheds new light on being human through the story of a boy with Williams syndrome, a rare genetic condition
empathy hugs
Cuddle me: can there ever be too many hugs?
Cultura RM/Alamy Stock Photo
By Clare Wilson
CONSIDERING the attention autism gets, it’s surprising how rarely we hear of the condition some call its opposite, Williams syndrome.
This genetic disorder, which causes people to be over-affectionate, talkative and gregarious, is rarer than autism, affecting about 1 in 10,000 people. Yet, like autism, researchers see it as a unique window into the complex interplay of nature and nurture that shapes some important aspects of the human condition.
In The Boy Who Loved Too Much, we meet Eli D’Angelo, an American boy with Williams, who treats everyone he meets as his new best friend. He hugs bus drivers, waiters and strangers, tells them he loves them, and means it.
Williams syndrome cover
The book could have been exploitative, but instead it’s a moving portrait of a mother facing the fact that her child has a different future from the one she imagined. Few with Williams live independently as adults, because the syndrome is also associated with reduced intelligence and dexterity – and heart problems.
Writer Jennifer Latson tracks how the concerns of Eli’s mother evolve from how to teach stranger-danger to a child who sees everyone as his friend to how to stop him being a nuisance. Children like Eli can get away with a lot with their wide smiles and characteristic elfin faces, but, warns a teacher, their “cuteness has an expiration date”.
Neatly interwoven with Eli’s story are the reasons scientists are fascinated. We sequenced the human genome over a decade ago, but many traits, particularly those involving personality, are governed by multiple genes with small additive effects, and their maze of complex interactions is proving hard to fathom. Williams, however, is caused by the loss of only about 26 genes, giving geneticists a valuable entry point.
For example, studying it has helped isolate genes for high blood sugar and hypertension. Another missing gene, GTF2I, seems to lead to raised levels of oxytocin, the so-called “love hormone”. It can be tempting to conclude that this is why people with Williams are so affectionate.
A minor gripe is that Latson occasionally skates over the neuroscience without exploring the problems inherent in this reductionist view of human behaviour. Most of us do not feel that we are slaves to our oxytocin. And Latson implies that the hormone is a promising treatment for autism, when in fact trials have produced mixed results, and there’s a long history of medical treatments for autism turning out to be a placebo.
“In socially reserved Japan, heightened empathy is seen as a disability; not so in demonstrative Greece”
Of course, some people with autism don’t want to be “treated”, anyway, because they say they’re not disabled, just different. Latson skilfully explores this connection with Williams. D’Angelo’s mother has been working hard to help Eli fit in, and cut back on the hugging. She is taken aback when a Williams expert asks if there is a right/wrong amount of hugging.
The question is highlighted by different cultural attitudes. In socially reserved Japan, for example, heightened empathy is seen as a clear disability. But in publicly demonstrative Greece, parents don’t consider the behaviour pathological at all.
It’s also revealing when Latson recounts a doctor telling parents how people with Williams see everyone else. For them, the “symptoms” of not having Williams include saying “I love you” only a few times a day. Similarly, autistic people may say that being neurotypical includes too much eye contact, hugging and talking – just as neurotypicals would see children with Williams.
The fascinating journey shows D’Angelo’s mother learning to accept Eli’s differences – and those differences lessening as he matures. I only wish I could find out how their story pans out.
The Boy Who Loved Too Much: A true story of pathological friendliness
Jennifer Latson
Simon & Schuster
Read more: How sharing other people’s feelings can make you sick
This article appeared in print under the headline “You are my best friend”
More on these topics:
Magazine issue 3131, published 24 June 2017
'The Boy Who Loved Too Much:' Williams Syndrome on Wednesday's Access Utah
By Tom Williams • Aug 30, 2017
Access Utah
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Listening...
52:46
A conversation about Williams Syndrome
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What would it be like to see everyone as a friend?
Twelve-year-old Eli D'Angelo has a genetic disorder that obliterates social inhibitions, making him irrepressibly friendly, indiscriminately trusting and unconditionally loving toward everyone he meets. It also makes him enormously vulnerable.
Author Jennifer Latson follows Eli's story in "The Boy Who Loved Too Much," exploring the boy's coming-of-age as his mother, Gayle, is forced to decide whether to shield Eli entirely from the world or give him the freedom to find his own way.
Latson's book, the result of three years of immersive reporting, intertwines Eli and Gayle's story with a look at the genetic basis of the behavior, revealing how insights drawn from this rare condition shed a light on what makes us all human.
Today's program is all about Williams Syndrome, the rare genetic disorder on which Latson's book focuses.
Our guests include:
Jennifer Latson, author of "The Boy Who Loved Too Much: A True Story of Pathological Friendliness"
Terry Monkaba, Executive Director of the Williams Syndrome Association
Kerry Bringhurst, News Director at Utah Public Radio
Nathan Bringhurst, Kerry's son, who is one of the roughly one in 10,000 people worldwide with Williams Syndrome
Quoted in Sidelights: “It would be a mistake to squeeze this book into the ‘disease narrative’ genre. It transcends that niche, partly through the author’s reflections on what our reactions to people with Williams Syndrome have to say about the human condition.
Debut author tells a true story of 'pathological friendliness'
By Mike Snyder
June 16, 2017 Updated: June 16, 2017 7:53pm
Image 1 of 2
In a world where everything made sense, you'd expect people whose hearts overflow with love to be rewarded with great relationships and extravagantly successful lives. Yet even as they brim with qualities most of us say we admire, those who live with the strange genetic condition known as Williams Syndrome struggle to make their way among fellow humans who don't quite know what to make of them.
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People with Williams feel intense affection and unquestioning trust for everyone they meet. When she learned about it, author Jennifer Latson was indignant that Williams was considered a disorder; wouldn't the world be a better place, she thought, if everyone behaved this way?
But Latson's attitude changed in the six years she spent researching and writing "The Boy Who Loved Too Much." Through reading, interviewing experts and observing the daily lives of a boy with Williams and his family, she began to see that the characteristics of this condition were at best a mixed blessing.
More Information
'The Boy Who Loved Too Much: A True Story of Pathological Friendliness'
By Jennifer Latson
Simon & Schuster, 304 pp, $26
Author appearance
Jennifer Latson will discuss and sign "The Boy Who Loved Too Much," 7 p.m. Tuesday, Brazos Bookstore, 2421 Bissonnet; 713-523-0701 or brazosbookstore.com.
Latson, a former Houston Chronicle reporter, met Eli, her main subject, when he was 12. Her engrossing book follows his life with his mother, Gayle, from infancy until he starts high school. (Gayle, Eli and the names of other family members in the book are pseudonyms.)
Latson's account of Gayle learning about her son's condition is one of the book's most powerful scenes. In 2000, Gayle was struggling to understand her baby's unusual behavior and developmental delays - he wasn't even crawling at 13 months, an age when friends' children were walking. Medical tests were inconclusive, and experts who observed Eli were charmed by him but stumped by his problems.
A fellow day-care mom who happened to be a pediatrician suggested that Eli might have a rare condition called Williams Syndrome. As soon as she could get to a computer, Gayle looked up the term:
"Her hands shook as she typed the words into a search engine. She clicked on the first website she saw, an online medical dictionary, and scanned the screen quickly. She read as much as she could before her eyes filled with tears and blurred the words. Then she ducked her head over her trash can and threw up."
Gayle soon learned that in addition to its behavioral and developmental symptoms, Williams was associated with significant health problems, including a dangerous narrowing of the main blood vessel leading from the heart.
Read a Q&A with Jennifer Latson about the challenges of writing about Eli and Gayle.
During the weeks she waited for an appointment with a geneticist to confirm the diagnosis, Gayle alternated between resenting friends with "normal" children and frantically trying to convince herself that Eli didn't really have this strange condition. Latson's account of the young mother's desperate denial - digging out photos of family members who seemed to share certain physical traits with Eli but didn't have Williams, for example - is heartbreaking.
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Eli's father, Alan in the book, disappears from the story shortly after the diagnosis. The couple separated when Eli was 8; Latson writes that Gayle preferred not to talk in detail about the split. The end of the marriage left Gayle, with help from her mother and other family members, with the sole responsibility of meeting her son's enormous, unconventional needs.
Gayle, in fact, is as important to Latson's story as is Eli. She emerges as a fully formed character: fiercely protective, stubborn, unconventional, resourceful and tough. She struggles to restrain her son's powerful impulse to throw his arms around everyone he sees; this trait is endearing in a 3-year-old, less so in a teenager.
Gayle is enormously self-sacrificing, perhaps to a fault. As Eli grows older, Gayle begins to question her constant vigilance and confront the fact that being his mother has become the sole basis of her identity. She makes some tentative efforts to attend to her own needs.
Gayle and Eli's story is interspersed with sections explaining the science of Williams, including its important role in the broader study of genetics.
Readers lacking a strong scientific bent might find themselves impatient for Latson to wrap up the wonky stuff and get back to Eli and his mom. But "The Boy Who Loved Too Much" would be a lesser book without this information, and Latson does a good job of making complex scientific concepts understandable and integrating this material into the personal story.
Latson's scenes of Gayle and Eli's life are replete with details that enrich the narrative. We see the pink bedspread in a hotel room where they stayed during a road trip; we observe a woman shifting her weight from one foot to the other while preparing to deliver unwanted news; we meet a waitress in a diner with a spiky hairdo and a rose tattoo on her forearm. In an author's note, Latson says details she didn't witness were confirmed through interviews.
Only once or twice does Latson resort to cliché (when she hears Eli's condition confirmed, "Gayle's heart dropped into her stomach, which in turn seemed to drop to the floor.") For the most part, her prose is fresh and engaging, her story leavened with humor to take the edge off the ongoing struggle of characters we have come to care about deeply.
It would be a mistake to squeeze this book into the "disease narrative" genre. It transcends that niche, partly through the author's reflections on what our reactions to people with Williams Syndrome have to say about the human condition.
In a sense, these loving, vulnerable people represent an almost holy kind of innocence - an impractical human ideal. Perhaps Gayle's selfless struggle, and Eli's eternally open arms, can inspire the rest of us.
Read a Q&A with Jennifer Latson about the challenges of writing about Eli and Gayle.
The Boy Who Loved Too Much by Jennifer Latson
June 16, 2017
Mixed Media, Book
Kristy Quist
Eli loves people. He loves them so much that he hugs strangers and considers them friends. Like 1 in 10,000 to 20,000 of the population, Eli has a genetic disorder called Williams syndrome. Journalist Jennifer Latson spent a considerable amount of time with Eli and his mother, Gayle, over three years, starting when he was 12, to find out what it is like to have Williams or to parent someone who has this syndrome.
In this, her first book, Latson looks at Eli’s experience. She also talks to doctors and others who have Williams to learn more about the emotional and physical health issues that go along with Williams. She explores the science behind the disorder, once in awhile briefly veering off into more academic science, but overall keeping it quite accessible.
At the same time, she wonders what we can learn about North American culture when the people who are most open and loving to strangers face the most rejection. Ironically, Eli’s wholly trusting nature and his inability to comprehend the signals and codes of social interaction make it much more difficult for this loving boy to develop friendships, even though friendships are the one thing he wants most in the world.
The Boy Who Loved Too Much gives readers a close-up look at the challenges of parenting a child who has Williams syndrome. Latson subtly urges a kinder disposition towards people with differences, and she helps develop more understanding and compassion for the lengths parents of children with special needs must go to for the sake of their children.
While the church does not really figure into the book, we in the church have a lot to gain from it. Here is a child, an imagebearer, who has a very different way of interacting with and understanding the world. Eli and Gayle are in dire need of healthcare and educational resources, a network of friends, and a community of support. None of us have to look too far to see someone else in those shoes, whether the issue is Williams syndrome, autism, Down syndrome, or any kind of “difference” that doesn’t fit neatly into social norms. The church is the perfect place for this kind of community and support, and Latson’s book helps open our eyes to the need. (Simon & Schuster)
About the Author
Kristy Quist is Tuned In editor for The Banner and a member of Neland Ave. CRC in Grand Rapids, Mich.