House Rules tells the story of Jacob, a teenager with Asperger’s syndrome who has an obsession with forensic science. When his tutor is found dead, Jacob is accused of murder. Suddenly, his quirks? his inability to make eye contact, his blunt speech, his fixation on details... are all seen as evidence of guilt.

What hit me hard in this book wasn’t just the mystery. It was the ache of watching someone be misjudged for who they are, rather than seen for the truth of their heart.

1. The Loneliness of Being Different

Jacob’s life shows how isolating it can be to move through the world wired differently. His mother constantly worries about how others perceive him, while Jacob himself longs to be accepted but doesn’t know how to bridge the gap.

Takeaway: Difference isn’t deficiency. But in a world that doesn’t understand, it can feel like exile.

2. Misunderstanding as Injustice

The courtroom scenes made me furious. Watching Jacob’s behaviors be twisted into something sinister. It reminded me how often people judge what they don’t understand, and how dangerous that can be when systems of power are involved.

Takeaway: Compassion means pausing before we judge, and asking: what don’t I understand here?

3. The Weight of Family Love

The story also shines a light on Jacob’s mother, who has dedicated her life to protecting him. Her love is fierce but exhausting: a reminder of the invisible labor carried by caregivers.

Takeaway: Love sometimes looks like relentless advocacy. But even advocates need support.

4. The Question of Rules vs. Humanity

Jacob lives by strict “house rules” to manage his world, but the real question the book raises is: what happens when rules collide with compassion, with nuance, with human messiness?

Takeaway: Life is lived in the grey spaces. Rules alone can’t hold the fullness of human experience.

Closing Reflections...

House Rules taught me something that has stayed with me: people’s behavior often hides a story we can’t see. What looks like coldness might be fear. What looks like rudeness might be wiring. What looks like guilt might be innocence misunderstood.

It made me reflect on how quick we are to judge, and how healing ..whether in a courtroom, a family, or within ourselves, begins when we create room for difference.

In the end, this book reminded me of something I also hold in my own work: everyone deserves to feel safe, seen, and understood. And maybe that’s the ultimate house rule.