Depictions of Disability in Fiction
- 2 hours ago
- 6 min read
By Baylor Barnard
What does it mean to depict a person with a disability? What does depiction mean in and of itself? What separates accurate depictions of disability, or of any minority, from a well meaning but inaccurate one? Additionally, what separates an accurate depiction from a bad one? The argument could be made that these two comparisons are one and the same. Throughout the following article, this author discusses the way that early modern fiction literature depicts disability, as well as the way that gothic literature, in particular, can be reread to reflect the way that its contemporary culture understood disability, the othering of outsiders, and how it treats those outside of an established norm.
The two primary texts from gothic literature discussed further are Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley’s Frankenstein and The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson. Both of these texts have their own way, intentionally or otherwise, of discussing the frequent “othering” that disabled individuals experience by way of their titular characters. Both texts feature characters judged for some perceived deformity. In the case of Frankenstein’s Creature, it is based solely on physical appearance. Whereas for Hyde, the deformity is only assumed. Stevenson writes a character describing Hyde as giving, “a strong feeling of deformity, although I couldn’t specify the point” [1].
Meanwhile, in Frankenstein, the Creature is hated by his creator in mere seconds after it’s brought to life. Victor Frankenstein as the narrator describes his creation as having water eyes, thin black lips, all with a patchwork of skin which barely conceal the flesh and veins underneath [3]. In the immediate aftermath of the creature awakening, Victor curses himself for his own actions and disowns it. The typical interpretation of the reason for this is that he understands the horror of his actions and creations. However, in the same way that Frankenstein’s story of being brought to life, and abandoned by his creator. In the modern day this can be broadly interpreted as queer coded; here it can also be read from the perspective of disability [3]. Throughout the rest of the novel, the Creature is almost always met with fear whenever revealing himself. Strikingly, the only person who doesn’t dehumanize or think ill of the Creature is another disabled man who he speaks to a number of times. In the 19th century when both of these texts were composed, the view of the disabled was similar to how these characters are depicted. Disability in Frankenstein and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr Hyde show how disability or non-conformity are understood as moral failings, or as a “violation of aesthetic codes” [3]. Now, Shelley’s book challenges these notions far more than Stevenson does. It showcases the Creature as independently intelligent, resourceful, and kind to those that are kind to him. Whenever he appears in the arctic to confront his creator, he’s shown as capable of surviving by himself despite extraordinary circumstances.
In a good deal of modern fiction, writers and editors go to great lengths to make sure that they depict any group of individuals of which they’re not apart with accuracy and intention. This is what’s called sensitivity reading and it’s broadly used across the publishing industry to get personal advice on how they might alter parts of their work. Not to pander to the community that is depicted, but to keep negative or outdated stereotypes from continuing to circulate. Most of this is a modern convention. Sensitivity reading also isn’t done purely to critique a writer’s work. It is also the task of Sensitivity readers to point out when representation is done accurately, and to tell writers what kind of expertise they’re looking for. They can also help writers shape their narratives. Ultimately, the use of a sensitivity readers are not to crush the intention or a writer. Instead it is to prevent the proliferation of negative stereotypes and to ensure individuals who are a part of possibly affected communities can enjoy books with less worry for what it may contain [2].
Unfortunately, not all writers and creatives utilize Sensitivity readers. For instance, take the film Music written and directed by the Singer-Songwriter Sia. Released in 2021, Music was critically panned for bland characters, poor music and, last but not least, a bafflingly offensive depiction of Autism from the titular character of the film. There is no indication that Sia or co-writer Dallas Clayton did much work at all to ensure they depicted Autism accurately. In fact, after the film’s initial release numerous advocate groups called for warnings to be added to the film since it contains scenes of intense physical restraints. Sia made a statement saying that the film would be recut and there would be a warning added, but neither ever happened. This can be looked at as a modern failure of an attempt to tell a story about a disabled person. Matthew Rozsa’s review of “Music” begins, “I am autistic and a fan of Sia’s songs.” Later, Rozsa says that the movie does appear to care about autistic people, “but it isn’t listening to us” [5]. This is of course not to say that prior to the last few decades writers were uninterested in depicting the minority characters in their writing less seriously. Some have sought out experts on their own time and it’s almost guaranteed that some do the same today. They don’t do this just to figure out how to accurately describe the tics of a person with Tourette’s. It’s done to make sure that no further damage is done to the communities which it depicts. This is the case for books with disabled characters as well as minority characters.
Finally, there are some early modern fiction works which deserve to be looked at in the same way. John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men features more than one disabled character. The most well known in the story and in much of early modern literature is the character of Lennie, a disabled farm hand with a fondness for petting soft textures and an anger issue. Clare Lawrence in “Palgrave Communications” delivers an insightful analysis of Lennie inside of the modern classroom, both how it can be used to increase the awareness of disability when read in the classroom, but also the harm it can do when not taught properly. Once again focusing on the concept of the other, and the social process of “othering” which happens to disabled people. Of Mice and Men is an exceptional way of showcasing to young readers especially, how people with disabilities are alienated by their peers, which isn’t to say that Steinbeck should be given an extreme degree of credit for his depiction of Lennie in the novella.
Early in the book, Lennie is portrayed as completely dependent on his companion George, who in turn verbally abuses him when he gets angry for his inability to take care of himself. It’s not just George who is critical of Lennie’s ability, or lack thereof, to provide for himself. When George and Lennie introduce themselves to the boss, they’re immediately considered suspicious. The relationship between the two main characters is regarded with uncertainty by many more characters until George reiterates that he and Lennie are cousins. The only person he doesn’t tell this lie to is Slim. George also repeatedly lies about the origin of Lennie’s condition. Steinbeck, either intentionally or unintentionally, conveys that in the community which George and Lennie are entering, it is more understandable or accepted to have been injured than to have been born disabled [4]. This is only exacerbated by the characters Candy and Crooks, both of whom are disabled as a result of work place injury. As a result, Candy was given a sum of money and a steady job at the farm. Meanwhile, Crooks, who is the book’s only character of color, has his own quarters attached to the barn. Both of these characters function in the book as examples of the challenges faced by George and Lennie. Candy takes care of an old, blind, and odorous dog who so bothers the other farmhands that he is forced to let it be killed. This foreshadows the death of Lennie in what can be called an echo of the contemporaneous eugenicist view of the disabled.
In conclusion, depiction of disability, at least in the examined pieces of fiction, is complicated. Shelley, in creating the Creature, shows a being that is hated from the moment of its birth by its creator for little reason beyond appearance. Stevenson goes even further with Mr. Hyde, who is only perceived as having some kind of difference which separates him from others. In the early modern literature discussed, Steinbeck’s Lennie is often compared to animals, with intense and uncontrollable outbursts of anger [6]. Candy and Crooks, on the other hand, might be best summarized as symbols. In fact, it seems that all disabled characters discussed thus far are in some part symbolic and, when read that way, they are deprived of their humanity. Writing for “Advances in Psychiatric Treatment” for Cambridge University Press, Anupama Iyer asserts how powerful narrative is in shaping a reader’s understanding of real life ideas, as well as the danger of only utilizing a disabled character for the purpose of plot advancement or symbolism. Widely read fiction and its depiction of disability shapes the way that the public thinks of disability. As a result, poor depiction and representation of any minority, not just disabled individuals, perpetuates negative stereotypes [6].
References
