Discussion: Romanticizing Mental Illness
Romanticization is a common element of mental illness narratives, including many in the YA category; what kind of message does that send?
Romanticization is a common element of mental illness narratives, including many in the YA category; what kind of message does that send?
Tommy Smythe disappears one Friday night, and even after weeks of searching he can’t be found. This is the story of a rural community’s search for Tommy, and the complicated social networks created by wrongdoings and secrets in a small town.
Although I can’t recommend it wholeheartedly, Louder Than Words features a well researched, realistic portrayal of progressive mutism.
In the time since I first read Wonder, my understanding of my disfigurement, and the world it occupies, has transformed. How will I now read and receive what was the most personally representative book of my life?
What about readers like me, who never see their own illnesses depicted? To see story after story where depression draws a straight line to suicide is, for better or for worse, expressing that depression only functions in one way.
While some elements of the representation were handled decently, I ultimately wasn’t a fan.
Insecure autistic boy meets thoughtful, magical adventure: The Real Boy is now my go-to recommendation when people ask for books with autistic protagonists.
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.
Rogue is one of the rare novels about an autistic character written by an autistic author, and the book raises many intriguing questions to discuss.
I Was Here is full of wasted potential; Meg is as much of a prop to the story as Mr. Body is to Clue.