Discussion: Magical Disabilities
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?
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?
In science-fiction and fantasy, you invariably run into fictional disabilities and allegories. Do these “count” as disability? What makes them work successfully in a book?
We’ve been wanting to shake hands with the good folks of the Schneider Family Book Award–an ALA award which highlights depictions of disability in children’s literature–for a while, and July 2014 marked the perfect time: while we celebrated our first anniversary, the Schneider celebrated its tenth!
“I learned absolutely nothing from Rachel’s leukemia,” this book’s protagonist starts off in its in-universe foreword, and I grinned and said, “YES! This is going to be good.”
Julia is a Deaf teen girl who is creative, artistic, and passionate. And she is an authentic portrayal of deafness.
I appreciated the honesty and authenticity with which the emotional aspects of serious illness were written; the actual details of day-to-day life with cystic fibrosis, however, were a mixed bag.
Skim does a good job of showing misguided attempts to help those with depression, and lets the reader see the absurdity for themselves.
The parallel journeys of Emily and Elizabeth allow author Rodriguez to explore two different expressions of depression, and show her deep understanding of the manifold ways that depression affects people.
The writing and characters are wonderful, but if you’re looking for a book about depression, I’d pass on this one.
Pete’s autism is portrayed over and over again as being non-stop pain and suffering. That got incredibly hard to read; do people really think this is what autism is like?