The Mara Dyer trilogy remains one of the best fictional depictions of PTSD that I have come across. That just makes it more disappointing when the series badly misses the mark on other issues.
Although I was underwhelmed by the portrayal of albinism in Akata Witch, it’s a great novel that features the first strong, sympathetic lead with albinism I’ve seen in quite a few years.
Some people call OCD a doubting disease. Corey Ann Haydu infuses her story with the back-and-forth, pulsing presence of this doubt, resulting in a first-person, insider’s account of what the condition feels like for many.
Today we get most forms of entertainment at the push of a button, so we tend to hate having to wait. The situation is even worse if you can’t read print—resulting in an endless waiting game for blind readers.
The Categorical Universe of Candice Phee is a fun, well-written book, if an imperfect autism read.
What’s missing here is not any aspect of how the autistic character is depicted, per se—what’s missing is something subtler in the narrator’s depiction, and in her point of view.
Despite some flaws, it is clear the author did his research. I enjoyed this book and recommend it.
This book definitely had its creepy moments, but I think other books have taken the protective older brother trope and did it better—without turning the younger brother into a plot device.
The story suggests that Kira’s talents as a threader make up for her disability, justifying her continued survival–with the disturbing implication that without it, she would be worthless.
When we talk about disability and sci-fi/fantasy, the first thing many will think of is the magical disability trope. But what does this trope entail and imply? And how can you subvert it?