Wednesday 27 April 2011

Three Great Books with Disabled Characters - Emma Barnes


I have been thinking recently about how disability is portrayed in children's books. This is partly because of a fascinating project I was involved in at the Foundling Museum, where I was invited to write from the perspective of a disabled child - read more here. I also went on a course about working with hearing or vision-impaired children which was truly "eye-opening" - never more so than when I was attempting various tasks with tunnel vision spectacles. All of which made me think about how disabled characters were portrayed in the books I read as a child. That involved a certain amount of head-scratching - after all as a reader you don't tend to categorise books as "including disability" (unless perhaps you are a drawing up one of those educational lists for schools). Instead you think of "books I loved" or "books that made me laugh"or "magical books" or "adventure stories". So it was intriguing to search around on my mental bookshelf from a new perspective.

Three of them jumped out at me. All books I read over and over again growing up, and all books from very different genres.

Warrior Scarlet by Rosemary Sutcliff

Set in the Bronze Age, this is the story of Drem, a boy whose right arm is useless, and who therefore faces the challenge of how he can become a full member of his tribe, whose manhood initiation requires the slaying of a wolf. It is an exciting, but also very literary, densely descriptive read. The theme of "belonging" goes beyond disability to the issues of tribal identity and birthright.

What I never realised as a child was that Rosemary Sutcliff was herself severely disabled by a form of juvenile arthritis. She knew at first hand some of the struggles involved in being perceived as "different" and inevitably dependent on other people, and she writes insightfully and amusingly about some of her experiences here. Her childhood illnesses may well have contributed to the development of her rich imagination - which resulted in so many classic novels, the most famous of which, Eagle of the Ninth, is now a film.

Jill's Gymkhana by Ruby Ferguson

This is the first of the "Jill" books - one of the best-loved series of girls' pony stories, narrated by the witty and independent-minded Jill Crewe. This is exactly the kind of "series fiction" that is usually looked down upon by critics, and always ignored when it comes to prizes. But the Jill books are truly wonderful, often subversive and non-stereotypical, and so it is no surprise that Jill's riding teacher should be a wheelchair user, Martin Lowell.

Jill can't afford riding lessons so it is her good luck that she bumps into Martin, formerly an expert rider who has been injured in a crash. At first she does not even notice he is in a wheelchair. Martin is chafing at the loss of his independence and career, and so delighted to take on a new project - teaching Jill to ride. And when Jill's mother expresses her discomfort at how much they "owe" him, he movingly explains that it is he who owes them - because he has met them since his accident they never hark back, but allow him to be himself.

It is this kind of supporting character that is perhaps most unusual, and most needed in children's fiction - not the central character struggling with their disability, and where the disability therefore feels like the whole story, but someone who happens to be part of the wider cast of characters, within the community.

What Katy Did by Susan Coolidge

A classic in the Little Women mould, it features one of those loveable, rebellious, trouble-prone heroines - Katy Carr. Rebellious that is, until she disobeys her aunt, falls from a swing, and injures her back so badly she may never walk again. Mentored by the saintly "Cousin Helen" - also bedridden - Katy learns to be sweetly gentle and beloved of the whole family, and is ultimately rewarded by learning to walk again.

I loved this as a child, although I think the escapades of the unreformed Katy were more fun to read than the story of her transformation in the "School of Pain". As an adult it makes me uneasy. Katy's physical problems are tied so closely to her moral state - really they are only an instrument for making her into a "better" person. I can't see why disability should lead one into being more or less angelic than anybody else. What Katy Did far predates the other two books, and the comparison makes me realise how much has changed in the way society views disability.

Nowadays there is a lot more sensitivity in the portrayal and treatment of disabled people - but there is a downside. Because authors are aware of the risk of being crass or stereotypical they can steer away from those issues and those characters altogether. It is this problem that the Foundling Project was trying to tackle.

Finally here is a link to a short film about the portrayal of disability in the visual arts - another stimulus when it came to writing this blog. Thanks to author Jane Stemp for the link.

Emma's web-site

15 comments:

Joan Lennon said...

Very useful post - thanks! And the You-tube film was fascinating.

Rosalie Warren said...

Yes, great post - and thank you for reminding me of the wonderful 'Jill' stories. Even as a pony-adoring child I recognised them as a cut above the rest, and revisiting them as an adult confirmed this. I'm planning a series of books featuring children with disabilities and the idea of putting them in supporting roles is a good one.

madwippitt said...

I too loved the Jill books: another pony story which I remember with great affection and also featuring disability was written by one of the Pullein-Thompson sisters - Josephine I think - and called Showjumping Secret. The lead character was recovering from polio and riding was suggested as a form of physio - a good read, and nice that it pointed out the success of a disabled Olympic rider. Even more interesting considering this is a genre normally read by girls, was the fact that the lead character was a boy!

Sue Purkiss said...

I read the Jill books too, but can't honestly say I remember anything about them, except that they were about horses!

I wrote a book called The Willow Man, which was about three children who are 'stuck' for different reasons - physical, emotional and social. One of them is Sophie, who has had a stroke and is having to learn to walk again. That bit of it was based on my daughter's experience - she had a stroke when she was seven.

What you say about Rosemary Sutcliffe's book reminded me of something my daughter's occupational therapist used to tell her. There is a strong tendency to ignore the hand that doesn't work very well, and just concentrate on the one that dies work; the OT used to tell us that this dates from an instinct for survival; if one hand didn't work, that's exactly what you'd do: tuck it away and compensate by optimising use in the hand that did work. Then you'd have a better chance of surviving.

Penny Dolan said...

Thanks for your thoughts on these books, Emma, especially as I'm strugging with the portrayal of one of my current characters.

The film is invaluable - and good to see such a link up on ABBA. Good post.

Writer Pat Newcombe said...

Nice to know books featuring disability coming more to the fore.

Emma Barnes said...

Thanks everyone. I saw the video link after it was posted to other SAS writers by Jane Stemp - who has some disabilities herself and has written about disabled characters in her books Secret Songs and Waterbound. So thank you Jane. I am definitely going to try and get hold of those, as well as yours Sue.

Nice to hear from other "Jill" fans too. Loved those books!

Stroppy Author said...

I'm writing about a character at the moment who has OCD and some associated mental/learning issues. Apart from Curious Incident I'm not really aware of a lot of books that deal with non-physical problems. In my story, the character's 'disability' becomes an asset.

Emma Barnes said...

Since posting I have remembered another wonderful character, Professor Muffett in Anne Fine's delightful comedy "The Summer House Loon". He's the dad of the main character, and a professional historian who happens to be blind. His daughter's mild feelings of guilt when she has to read aloud papers on the Early Sardinian Trae Routes (and who can blame her?) are very sensitively done.

Ms. Yingling said...

I'm glad I'm not the only one slightly disturbed by What Katy Did. You might be interested to know that there are free versions of several other Katy books available for the Kindle. (What Katy Did Next; What Katy Did at School)

RosyB said...

Emma - how could you leave out August in "The Right-Hand Man"? One-armed, with bad tubercolosis, charismatic, pig-headedly pushing himself at a really physical and physically dangerous sport...And, to a lesser extent, Will in the Flambard's trilogy for that matter, who goes on to fly early 20th century planes (not for the faint-hearted). KM Peyton often seems to limit her character's physicality and then plonks them in some sort of dangerous and daring place creating a huge sense of character and determination.

I think, myself, there can be dangers in the dotting of disabled people in the background of books like some kind of political point. You do come across books like this and it *can* seems patronising to me. I don't see that disabled characters have to be struggling with their disabilities centre-stage in every book - but perhaps writers thinking more widely about character and physicality in general for their characters would be more interesting for everyone - so often characters are bland and samey or just plain boring. (If I read one more time that a woman has "chestnut hair", I will fling the book across the room in disgust!) Everyone struggles with something, after all. It's about particularity.

August is not a character you think of as disabled (maybe why you missed him out, despite loving that book) because he is a towering character and his disability is just an aspect of him - and surely that's the way it should be. He is definitely one of the most memorable characters I read about as a child/teenager.

Emma Barnes said...

RosyB - you are quite right about August. In fact, I didn't think of any of the characters I wrote about in the post as "disabled" or the books as "books concerning disability" - I just thought of them as great books about great characters, which is no doubt how it should be.

It's a wonderful book, "The Right Hand Man" - my favourite of all the KM Peytons that I have read, and I am always surprised that it is not better known.

Daniela said...

In The Secret Garden there's a little boy who's unwell and nearly bedridden, isn't there? Also in the follow up to Pollyanna...Oh and Emily of New Moon, she falls down the stairs and is bedridden for months. Have you read Kilmeny of the Orchard, by Lucy Maud Montgomery? Kilmeny can't speak...

Daniela said...

Hi Emma, my name is Daniela, I'm a new writer. This post made me think of the Percy Jackson series, written by a teacher of boys with learning and behavioural issues. Percy is dyslexic, and his dyslexia is a sign of him being a demi-god as his mind is "wired for ancient Greek". I also thought of Kilmeny of the Orchard by Lucy M.Montgomery. Kilmeny can't speak and walks around with a notebook around her neck. Also there's the follow-up to Pollyanna, with a wheelchair bound character, Heidi with the disabled Clara, and The Secret Garden with a housebound little boy...

Emma Barnes said...

Daniela - sorry for not picking up your comments before. The Secret Garden is an interesting one, isn't it? Doesn't it rather suggest that the problem with Colin is psychological rather physical/neurological: nothing, anyway that a robust approach and a bit of fresh air and gardening can't sort out? Rather like Clara in Heidi - she didn't really need her wheelchair, once she was in the fresh air of the mountains.

That's interesting about Percy Jackson - can't think of many examples of dyslexia, and tying it in with the Greek Gods is an interesting twist.