Review: The Drowned Cities by Paolo Bacigalupi
I related to Mahlia’s struggle with the harsh words hurled at her because of her limb deficiency—sometimes wanting to prove herself and sometimes wanting to keep her distance.
I related to Mahlia’s struggle with the harsh words hurled at her because of her limb deficiency—sometimes wanting to prove herself and sometimes wanting to keep her distance.
Keri’s anxiety seems more of a framing device than anything else; The Shattering doesn’t contain as thorough a portrayal of anxiety as I’d hoped for, though its representations of other kinds of diversity more than make up for that.
Despite reservations about the ending, I would recommend The Rest of Us Just Live Here; it’s a welcome addition to YA novels involving OCD and anxiety.
Linette is more a convenient plot device than a protagonist, and disabled readers deserve more. Young Knights of the Round Table is a prime example of incidental disability done wrong.
Hanna is a character with bipolar disorder; she’s not “bipolar disorder, the walking human diagnosis.” I think people who share the disease will find something soothing in seeing someone who both manages and mismanages her illness realistically.
An accurate, respectful, and deftly handled portrayal of Tourette’s Syndrome, from an author who has the condition himself.
From a mythology buff’s perspective, I was delighted with Odd and the Frost Giants. From a disability perspective, though, I was confused.
Although I can’t recommend it wholeheartedly, Louder Than Words features a well researched, realistic portrayal of progressive mutism.
One of the more authentic reflections I have seen of what it can be like to grow up deaf—this is the kind of book I wish I could have had when I was younger.
A well-researched exploration of how mental illness can interact with queer identity, especially for those just discovering themselves during a volatile time of life and those with less well understood identities.
We have so few stories—especially lighthearted ones—with wheelchair-using characters that I’d hoped I’d be able to recommend I Funny, but it’s a dangerous narrative wrapped up and presented as “good messages.”
Though I would have liked more disability details woven into the story, I relate to and applaud the author’s portrayal of cerebral palsy overall.
I could criticize the focus on “fixing” and of the correlation between unwantedness and disability, but the book is focused on unwantedness in a broader fashion; Ava is as challenged by her circumstances as she is by her clubfoot.
Hunt captures the inner confusion when you aren’t getting something everyone else grasps easily that is a pre-diagnosed dyslexic’s life. Ally’s situation conjured up so many memories at first that it was hard for me to read, but the reward was great.
Kinda Like Brothers is a pacey, touching look at foster care from an adolescent perspective, featuring an accurate and relatable look at asthma.
Although the process of coping with and accepting sudden blindness seems rushed, this is one of the best books depicting blindness that I’ve read. Natalie’s emotions and time at a school for the blind are spot-on.
Although the author got some of the details about blindness wrong, she seems very committed to diversity, and I enjoyed this book a lot.
Parker Grant is a complex, flawed character whose blindness was handled realistically; a big part of her life, but not the only part of her life. This is definitely a book I will be recommending.
Although I sometimes genuinely enjoyed myself while reading this book, those times were unfortunately outweighed by the serious inaccuracies.
It’s sadly hard to see beyond Emma’s reflections on what she can’t do now that she’s lost her sight to actually find out how she’s adapting and adjusting.
It felt like the author used Moritz’s echolocation as a way of avoiding a realistic portrayal of blindness; too many tired blindness tropes popped up throughout the book for me to love and champion it the way others have.
Lu’s depiction of life with one eye is up and down; cringe-worthy beliefs are juxtaposed with realistic depictions of the main character’s adjustment to her condition.
Although Laureth didn’t represent me as a blind person, Sedgwick didn’t feed off tropes and stereotypes; instead, he met with many young blind people and found out about their lives.
Overall, I found the portrayal of pediatric cancer iffy—better than some, worse than others. Rather than unthinking stereotypes, though, these shortcomings felt like a result of a lack of personal experience or oversights in research.
I would’ve enjoyed Jerk, California a lot more if its depiction of life with Tourette’s Syndrome was handled as well as its technical depiction of Tourette’s Syndrome itself.