Graeme Simsion - The Rosie Result

I was standing on one leg shucking oysters when the problems began

Don Tillman and Rosie Jarman are back in Australia after a decade in New York, and theyre about to face their most important challenge.

Their son, Hudson, is struggling at school: hes socially awkward and not fitting in. Dons spent a lifetime trying to fit inso who better to teach Hudson the skills he needs?

The Hudson Project will require the help of friends old and new, force Don to decide how much to guide Hudson and how much to let him be himself, and raise some significant questions about his own identity.

Meanwhile, there are multiple distractions to deal with: the Genetics Lecture Outrage, Rosies troubles at work, estrangement from his best friend Gene

And opening the worlds best cocktail bar.

Hilarious and thought-provoking, with a brilliant cast of characters, The Rosie Result is the triumphant final instalment of the much-loved and internationally bestselling Rosie trilogy.

To the many people in the autism community

who have inspired and supported these books.

We are all special cases.

ALBERT CAMUS

I was standing on one leg shucking oysters when the problems began. If I had not been a scientist, conscious of the human propensity to see patterns where they do not exist, I might have concluded that I was being punished by some deity for the sin of pride.

Earlier that afternoon, I had been completing a performance-review form, and was presented with the question What do you consider to be your key strength(s)?

It was a vague construction which specified neither context nor level of generalisation. Expertise in genetics was the obvious answer, but this was implied by the job title Professor of Genetics. My knowledge of myxoid liposarcoma would soon be of minimal relevance, as my research project in that area was nearing completion. Objectivity and intelligence might suggest that I thought some academics lacked these attributes, which was true, but probably tactless. I needed to avoid tactlessness.

I was still searching for an answer when Rosie arrived home.

What are you doing in your pyjamas? she said.

Preparing dinner. Which Im time-sharing with solving a problem. And single-leg dips.

I meant, why are you wearing pyjamas?

There was a minor cooking accident involving an exploding chestnut. I was attempting to speed up the process by increasing the temperature. Hence the oil on various surfaces. I indicated the splashes on the ceiling. My clothes were also affected. I avoided further loss of time by switching directly to pyjamas rather than putting on an intermediate costume.

You havent forgotten weve got Dave and Sonia for dinner?

Of course not. Its the second Wednesday of the month. The day I change my toothbrush head.

Rosie performed her impression of my voice, a sign that she was in a good mood: Guests. Pyjamas. Not a valid combination.

Dave and Sonia have seen me in pyjamas. On the Cape Canaveral trip

Dont remind me.

If theres time to change my costume, I should devote it to the performance-review form. I explained the problem.

Just write whatever you wrote last year.

I didnt do it last year. Or the year before. Or

Twelve years at Columbia and you havent had to do a performance review?

I dont complete the form. Theres always some higher-priority task. Unfortunately, David Borenstein insisted. If its not on his desk tomorrow, hes threatened to take some unspecified punitive action.

Youre stuck on the question about strengths?

Correct.

Just say problem-solving. Its a good answer and it wont come back to bite you. If you dont find a cure for cancer, theyre not going to say, But you said you were a good problem-solver.

Youve encountered the same question?

Only about twenty times in the last month.

Rosies current medical-research project was also finishing, and she was seeking a more senior position. It was proving difficult, as most roles involved clinical work. Her argument was: Im a crap physician but a good researcher. Why waste time on stuff Im not good at? I had applied the same logic to the performance-review form.

Presumably, you also gave the optimum answer, I said. Problem-solving.

I usually say team player, but in your case

It might have returned to bite me.

Rosie laughed. Ill finish filling it out and youll have time to make yourself respectable. Teamwork, see. She must have noticed my expression. You can review it when Im done.

As I processed the remaining oysters, I reflected on Rosies suggestion. It was satisfying that my partner recognised an attribute that I had not previously articulated. I was a good problem-solver.

I had the advantage of an atypicalthe word used by others was weirdapproach to analysing and responding to situations. Over my twenty-five-year career, it had enabled me to overcome day-to-day obstacles and initiate major breakthroughs. It had also delivered benefits in my personal life.

At twenty, I had been a computer-science student, socially incompetent even by the standards of twenty-year-old computer-science students, with zero prospect of finding a partner.

Now, largely due to the deliberate application of problem-solving techniques, I was employed in a stimulating and well-paid job, married to the worlds most beautiful and compatible woman (Rosie), and father to a talented and happy ten-year-old child (Hudson), who was showing signs of becoming an innovative problem-solver himself.

I had identified Rosies biological father from sixty-five candidates, rescued my friend Daves refrigeration business from financial failure, and, after detailed analysis of customer preferences in the bar where Rosie and I worked part-time, designed a cocktail which won the New York Peoples Choice Award.

I was in excellent health, in part because of regular martial-arts classes and a fitness program which I had integrated into other activities. Psychologically, I had the support of my local mens group: Dave and a retired musician named George.

Creative thinking had, over twelve years of marriage, produced a routine which accommodated Rosies requirement for spontaneity without unduly sacrificing efficiency. I would have liked more sex, but the frequency was above the mean for our ages and relationship duration, and infinitely better than it had been prior to meeting Rosie.

The only significant blemish was the loss of my longstanding friendship with my mentor, Gene. But even taking that factor into account, if I had maintained a graph of my contentment with life, the curve would now be at its highest point.

I returned to an oyster that had not offered an entry point for my knife. In the bottom drawer was a collection of tools, including pliers. If I used them to break the edge of the shell, I would create a gap into which the knife could be inserted. I allowed myself a moment of satisfaction. Don Tillman: Worlds Best Problem-Solver.

Rosie appeared with my notebook computer. What do you want to say for areas youd like to improve? I put fashion.

You already mentioned the pyjamas.

Im kidding. But theres always room for improvement. Those are bushwalking socks youre wearing, right?

Multi-purpose. Extremely warm.

I turned towards her, in accordance with the convention that people look at each other while conversing. Concurrently, I was lowering myself on one leg to access the pliers, extending my free leg to keep my supporting shin vertical as required for the leg-dip exercise, while holding the oyster and knife in my other hand.