The Framed Women of Ardemore House is a taut, gripping, “fish out of water” murder mystery novel, about an American autistic woman who suddenly inherits an eerie, crumbling British mansion—in which, shortly after her arrival, a man is murdered.
We hard a hard time putting this book down, but once we finally finished we then had the good fortune to interview its author Brandy Schillace, herself an American autistic woman. We discussed Framed Women’s engrossing twists and themes, including how more novels like hers feature autistic protagonists who are complex humans with interesting lives, rather than being limited to Very Special Autism Stories.
Thinking Person’s Guide to Autism: How would you summarize the plot of The Framed Women of Ardemore House?
Brandy Schillace: Jo Jones has always had a little trouble fitting in. As a neurodivergent, hyperlexic book editor and divorced New Yorker transplanted into the English countryside, Jo doesn’t know what stands out more: her Americanisms or her autism.After losing her job, her mother, and her marriage all in one year, she couldn’t be happier to take possession of a possibly haunted (and clearly unwanted) family estate in North Yorkshire. But when the body of the moody town groundskeeper turns up on her rug with three bullets in his back, Jo finds herself in potential danger—and she’s also a potential suspect. At the same time, a peculiar family portrait vanishes from a secret room in the manor, bearing a strange connection to both the dead body and Jo’s mysterious family history. With the aid of a Welsh antiques dealer, the morose local detective, and the Irish innkeeper’s wife, Jo embarks on a mission to clear herself of blame and find the missing painting, unearthing a slew of secrets about the town—and herself—along the way. And she’ll have to do it all before the killer strikes again.
TPGA: Was writing a British murder mystery a long-term goal? Also, how did you decide on the twist of making your lead, Jo Jones, American?
Schillace: I have always enjoyed a good mystery and cut my teeth on Agatha Christie and Conan Doyle. I have also, as an American, spent a lot of time transplanted to the UK (first as a graduate student, later in a summer residency). It can be really strange—uncanny, even—to be in a culture that is *almost* but not quite like your own (same language, for instance). I made mistakes, of course. But I do make mistakes; I am autistic and can read situations wrong in the best of times. Oddly, however, when I am abroad, lots of people chalk this up to me being “American” rather than me being autistic. (“Are all American’s like this?” is a question I have heard a bit). Thus, partly answering your next question, I thought it would be grand to introduce an autistic protagonist into a “fish out of water” scenario where the thing most people spot is not her neurodiversity, but her American accent and mannerisms.
TPGA: Do you think it is easier to write about an autistic character like Jo in another country rather than on her home turf, as she’s already automatically going to be considered odd rather than necessarily neurodivergent?
Schillace: Easier? No, I don’t think so. But it mirrored my own experience, and I felt it was a nice way to get away from the sad old trope of making AUTISM into a character, rather than introducing a CHARACTER who happens to have autism.
TPGA: Do you see yourself as part of recent grounded fiction in which autistic women like Jo are allowed to be openly neurodivergent and interesting and joyful and living their lives on their own terms, while not having their autism be a Very Special Focus of the plot? Thinking of Olivia in Into the Drowning Deep, Rose from Camp Damascus, even Molly in The Maid series—though that character doesn’t have a formal diagnosis.
Schillace: Believe it or not, I did not encounter any of these other stories or authors until AFTER I wrote the book. In fact, I had never seen a single book (when I started) that actually portrayed a character with autism in a way that helped me to “see” myself. It was my goal to make her neurodivergent in the way you might have a character with any other trait—like a quiet, shy, or introverted character. It’s just something about her. I am all the autistic, but I still don’t think it’s the most interesting thing about me.
TPGA: With the previous question in mind, did anyone involved in publishing TFWOAH urge you to go harder on the autism content?
Schillace: My agent was the first to suggest I make the character claim her autism (as opposed to be being less obvious). I was less “out” about my own autism back then. SO I decided I would make my own diagnosis public before I retooled the narrative. I wrote an article called Coming Out Autistic for Scientific American, where I grapple with the stigma and the fear of being outed (as a kid who grew up in the 70s/80s). Then I rewrote the book allowing Jo to be “out” and to claim her autism, too. Then, my editor asked me to add even more of Jo’s quirks into the novel, which wasn’t an ask for stereotypes—just “let’s see even more of her, as she is.” I am pretty sure it’s the first time in all of my life I was encouraged to be “more” autistic about anything.
TPGA: My favorite moment in the book was when Joe told her internalized neurotypical naysayer voice to “fuck off” about doing an info dump. Is this something you do (or learned to do), or is it an aspiration? I’d imagine it’s a helpful habit to have, self-advocacy-wise.
Schillace: Oh, I have whole conversations with myself all the time. And I have definitely weaponzied my fuck off against the pressures of NT. It took me years to accept myself and to demand some accommodation, some room, from others. I wanted Jo to have that.
TPGA: Jo has integrity and tends to expect it from others, which specifically disadvantaged her during the divorce from her cheating, conniving husband. Have you witnessed autistic friends or loved ones get duped or manipulated in similar ways?
Schillace: Oh my. Yes. So, it’s like this—as an autistic person, I am always trying to read and translate those around me. I want to anticipate their needs, know what they are trying to say, and what they expect, so that I can respond in kind. That means before a conversation ever begins, I have already done a lot of work. The trouble is, NT don’t do that back, for you. At least, not often. They say they want to meet half way, but they mean “ten steps” and I have already walked a thousand just to be here. We expect people who are different (disabled people in general, but lots of other minority groups) to do all the heavy lifting. At some point I realized I was being the mule for other people’s expectations.
TPGA: I really appreciated the Welsh antique dealer Gwilym and his delight in Jo’s editorial and archivist skills—especially how he thinks she is talented and skilled, rather than odd or too direct. And of course it turns out he is neurodivergent as well, though in his case (spoiler) it’s ADHD. Had you heard of the idea of neurodivergent “cousins” before deciding on the dynamic of their interactions?
Schillace: I have never heard of this! Fascinating. I just knew that my journal was helped by other neurodivergent people, those who had better articulation of need, better support. They helped me to come to terms with my own autism, and to see value in myself. I wanted Gwilym to be a little further down that self-advocacy road, and to help Jo along the way.
TPGA: TFWOAM also has forthright feminist themes on the complexities of sex work and historical views on childbirth outside of marriage, two topics that are not always treated fairly by mainstream authors. Can you discuss what drove you to include these threads?
Schillace: I am glad you asked! I work in social justice, generally. I am pro LGBTQIA+. I support women, I believe trans women are women, and I believe we all have a right to our bodies. There are those who restrict feminism to what I think is a pretty narrow and patriarchal box—one that denies women’s sexuality, their fluidity, their rights to themselves, their decisions. Sex workers are often caught up in that, and treated as victims or infantilized. Now, obviously, we must all guard 100% against women being taken advantage of (and in the story, there are several men trying to), but when a woman (or man) chooses sex work—on their own, not under duress—we need to respect that choice and not stand in judgment.
