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Flight of fantasy

Originally published at Juliet E. McKenna. You can comment here or there.

Here’s an interesting question posed on Twitter by Sally Hyder – why are there no disabled female heroes in books? Is this because readers won’t accept it? Or is that the publishing fear, not the reality?

I’m indebted to Kate Elliott for flagging up Oree in N.K. Jemisin’s The Broken Kingdoms as an example of such a female – while acknowledging they are extremely rare.

Why is this? I don’t have any answers – but I am now pondering on my own, related experience. I have a crippled male hero in The Chronicles of the Lescari Revolution – in modern terms, he has cerebral palsy and is closely modelled on a friend of my teenage years with CP in what he can and cannot do, his attitudes, frustrations etc.

Neither editors nor readers have had any problem with him as a character – indeed, he’s been seen as an interesting twist on Alpha-Male heroes. But when we were discussing cover art, one major US book chain’s representative was very, very anti the notion of a man on crutches on a book jacket – he reckoned that would be the commercial kiss of death.

Well, we’ll never know. Subsequent reader reaction would indicate that was an unrealistic fear. But I wouldn’t rule it out entirely. I’ve had too many well-informed Americans conclude that the (superb) cover art contributed to Southern Fire’s failure to find a US audience.

That’s a male disabled hero. What about a female one? I would be much more cautious about writing one of those – especially following some hostile reader reaction to Lady Zurenne in the Hadrumal Crisis books. More women than I would have expected have been infuriated by her inability to cope – in the first instance – with being widowed and subject to male domination in a patriarchal society. They have found her thoroughly dislikeable – without, thankfully, condemning me as a betrayer of the sisterhood. That would be difficult given the presence of a very empowered magewoman, Jilseth, in these books.

The thing is, I can understand that reaction to some extent. I have read far too many books in the past couple of years where a woman’s role is still to be marginalised, patronised, passive and victim – apart from the minority of instances where she’s a menacing and/or vengeful bitch.

So I personally would be very wary indeed of including a disabled female character in a book without her condition being absolutely central and necessary to the plot. And then I would have to work very hard indeed to make her absolutely not a passive victim – and that would be very difficult indeed, in a narrative set in any kind of pre-modern society where reader expectations would be set by their own assumed knowledge of the historical disempowerment and invisibility of such individuals.

Now, having friends and family who’ve lived and worked abroad, often in developing countries, I know for a fact that viewpoint is more than a little skewed. When my parents lived in West Africa, we would see men and women who’d lost limbs to accident or disease out and about, making a living. Because otherwise they’d starve. We would see the mentally impaired and infirm being cared for by their families. A society needs to attain a certain level of wealth before they can warehouse the disabled out of sight.

But how to convey to the reader that their assumed knowledge is wrong without the benefit of out-of-story footnotes? It would be a very interesting writerly challenge – and if I had the right story, it would definitely be worth trying. But it would have to be for the right story, not just trying something for the sake of it.

Oh and by the way, any writer wanting to tackle this challenge should start by reading books like Sally Hyder’s own memoir, Finding Harmony. Sally has Multiple Sclerosis, not that you’d ever know it from her online conversation, unless she’s in the middle of plotting something like getting to the top of Ben Nevis in a motorised wheelchair.

As I say, it’s interesting question – and I don’t have any answers. Anyone else got any comments or observations?

Comments

( 10 comments — Leave a comment )
themis1
Mar. 5th, 2013 10:57 am (UTC)
Silent Dances (AC Crispin/K O'Malley) has a deaf female character - her disability is central to the plot.
jemck
Mar. 5th, 2013 11:23 am (UTC)
Deafness is particularly interesting - I've had it described to me as the invisible disability, and it does seem to prompt a different set of reactions to more immediately obvious physical impairment.
themis1
Mar. 5th, 2013 01:49 pm (UTC)
Interesting point - it's not the only invisible disabilty, though. There are many conditions which disable their sufferer without showing any surface signs. I'm thinking fibromyalgia and the like ...
jemck
Mar. 5th, 2013 02:41 pm (UTC)
very good point on other invisible disabilities.

And then there's the whole additional topic of mental illness which can be profoundly disabling without being visible - and off the top of my head, I can only think of male and evil examples, so profoundly negative.
wolfinthewood
Mar. 5th, 2013 11:14 am (UTC)
In Octavia Butler's Kindred, her heroine, Dana, loses an arm.

So far, that is the only exception I can dredge up out of memory.
stephanieburgis
Mar. 5th, 2013 01:04 pm (UTC)
So I personally would be very wary indeed of including a disabled female character in a book without her condition being absolutely central and necessary to the plot. And then I would have to work very hard indeed to make her absolutely not a passive victim – and that would be very difficult indeed, in a narrative set in any kind of pre-modern society where reader expectations would be set by their own assumed knowledge of the historical disempowerment and invisibility of such individuals...

As someone with a disability myself, I was honestly taken aback by the assumption that disability would automatically make a character (and a female character in particular?) seem like a passive victim. Surely just showing her doing exactly what you describe from your West African experiences - getting stuff done despite her disability - would showcase her strength perfectly well from the outset? Because it takes a lot MORE strength to get that stuff done with a disability than it does without - so automatically, just by starting with a disabled character who still does stuff, you'd be starting out with a much less potentially-passive character.
jemck
Mar. 5th, 2013 02:55 pm (UTC)
That's what I am trying rather hamfistedly to say - the reality is that people with all manner of impairments just get on and get stuff done - but that's so rarely shown in fiction that an able-bodied writer would have to be very alert to avoid inadvertently slipping back into those default portrayals/assumptions. It's too easy to be blind to your own privilege, as we see so often re issues of race, gender etc.

And an awful lot of people do assume that anyone with an impairment is far less able than they are, needs looking after etc - hence the classic question to the carer 'does he take sugar?' when the chap in the chair is perfectly able to answer for himself. One can only hope that this is changing, especially when the capabilities of eg paralympic athletes, the BBC's assorted disabled correspondents are more widely visible.

A point that's been raised elsewhere is the fear which able-bodied writers can have of getting it wrong - and thus causing offence. Easier to just avoid the pitfalls? Personally I'd prefer to do the research and get it right - but I understand the apprehension. I wouldn't have felt nearly so secure writing that character on crutches without having had such a good friend in a wheelchair in my teens.

And a key part of writing that character was honestly showing his limitations in a society that hadn't even invented the wheelchair yet, plus his issues with chronic pain and such.

It gets complicated, fast. Which is absolutely *not* an excuse for ducking the issue
pbray
Mar. 5th, 2013 01:46 pm (UTC)
As I recall, Jenny Casey, the protagonist of Elizabeth Bear's Hammered series, is a disabled vet reliant on prosthetics which are slowly breaking down. A kind of bionic woman, except that there's no legal way for her to get replacement parts.

Kristine Smith's Jani Killian has similar issues, except hers are the result of illegal experimentation with alien medical technology which saved her life at the time but had crippling consequences.

Edited at 2013-03-05 01:51 pm (UTC)
wolfsilveroak
Mar. 5th, 2013 03:47 pm (UTC)
-I’m indebted to Kate Elliott for flagging up Oree in N.K. Jemisin’s The Broken Kingdoms as an example of such a female – while acknowledging they are extremely rare.

It took me several chapters of 'Is she? I think she is. No, maybe she isn't..' in my head before it was actually written that, yes, Oree is indeed blind in the conventional sense of your and my sight.

Not because she wasn't a well written char ( she is, the books are awesome), but because she did not let it hinder her in any way whatsoever. She didn't let it affect her life anymore than it had to.

And to me, that makes her awesome.

Edited at 2013-03-05 03:48 pm (UTC)
ms_cataclysm
Mar. 5th, 2013 10:46 pm (UTC)
What about Christian Stewart in Dorothy Dunnett's "The Game of Kings"

She's blind from birth but is courageous, intelligent and resourceful.

She's not precisely the hero but is the foil to the female villain and refreshingly doesn't get shagged by the male hero.
( 10 comments — Leave a comment )

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