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When Deenie was first published, it may well have been a positive representation of the experience of a child with scoliosis, but it hasn’t held up well.

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.

In no way is Briony’s depression the whole point of this novel—however, it is an important piece, and it is portrayed excellently. Chime was one of the most cathartic reading experiences of my life.

Paperboy is only one character’s experience of stuttering, but it’s an honest one. And in a world where so often these stories aren’t told, that comes across like a breath of fresh air.

People like Early do exist, and it’s great to see historical fiction that includes a disabled character, but Early gets a little too close to the trope of the magical or extra-special autistic for my comfort.

A good ending doesn’t erase the time I spent feeling isolated, excluded, and hurt because of the way Rose is treated.

Overall, I was very pleased with Al Capone Does My Shirts and how it depicts autism. Moose and Natalie are complex and endearing characters who remain with you long after the book is closed.

Despite elements that I saw as didactic or inauthentic, there is a lot that kids will like in this book.

Julian Birch has a “withered” leg from a childhood bout of polio, and Mitchell’s depiction of him is one of the most believable, relatable portrayals of disability I’ve come across.

The toughest chapter to write in El Deafo, by far, was the chapter in which I reject sign language.

I regularly recommend One-Handed Catch as the best book for young people about limb deficiency because it captures two big aspects of life with one fewer limb: humor and problem solving.