I'm not quite getting the rage against Dean Priest, who is psychically twisted because he's physically so
But how is that any less offensive, to say that someone is psychologically twisted because of their physical disability? And in any case, it seems like a chicken-egg scenario. Which came first in Montgomery's mind, Dean's physical disability or his flawed psyche? We don't know.
In any case, my rage isn't against Dean, it's on his behalf. If Montgomery had written him as a less compelling character, I wouldn't have come to care as much about him as I did. A near-miss can be more infuriating than a complete fail -- and it certainly was in this case, because as soon as he appeared on the scene I thought fatalistically, "Well, I like this guy a lot, but it's no good hoping he and Emily will get together. Not only because he's so much older, but because he has a physical disability and we all know that characters with disabilities never get to be the love interest, especially in older novels." And then his friendship with Emily developed to the place where I started to think, "Seriously, L.M. Montgomery? Are you going to go there? Because if you do you will be my favorite author EVER."
And then it turns out (SPOILERS HO) that his hunched back has twisted his soul and made him grasping and selfish, so that he could not bear to admit that Emily's book was any good because it might mean she loved something more than him. And therefore he does the spectacularly appalling thing of lying to her about whether her book is any good or not, and ultimately manipulating her into becoming engaged to him out of pity and despair, because by that point her dreams are crushed and she believes she has no chance at anything "better".
And therein lies my RAGE. Especially considering that the boy Emily chooses in the end, Teddy, has all the personality and depth of overcooked pasta. I didn't feel that Dean's behavior to Emily really grew organically and naturally out of his character. I felt it was a cheap and rather horrible way to get rid of the Imperfect Guy so Emily could have the (boringly) Perfect Guy.
Yes, it is true that some people never get over the bitterness of having a disability, and that the experience of disability can change some people for the worse, just as it changes some for the better (or just plain changes them, period). But when you have so VERY few representations of people with disabilities in literature, there is a far greater danger that any one representation will be taken as expressive of the whole.
What I want to know is, how many girls over the years have read the EMILY series and come away with the subconscious impression that it's better not to get romantically involved with a man who has a disability, because people with disabilities are prone to become grasping and selfish and needy? How many of these girls ever, in the entire rest of their lives, read a book in which a character with a disability was a fully rounded and sympathetically portrayed individual, who -- despite any number of realistic flaws, such as all good characters should possess -- could earn, and keep, the love of a non-disabled character? Because there are so incredibly few of those books around, and the likelihood of stumbling across one if you don't actively seek it out is almost vanishingly small.
I'm not advocating that authors make all their characters with disabilities into paragons of virtue. Therein lies Tiny Tim and another cliche which is just as obnoxious. What I am advocating is more and wider representations of character with disabilities, and for authors to stop carelessly demonizing such characters by associating physical disability with outright villainy.
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But how is that any less offensive, to say that someone is psychologically twisted because of their physical disability? And in any case, it seems like a chicken-egg scenario. Which came first in Montgomery's mind, Dean's physical disability or his flawed psyche? We don't know.
In any case, my rage isn't against Dean, it's on his behalf. If Montgomery had written him as a less compelling character, I wouldn't have come to care as much about him as I did. A near-miss can be more infuriating than a complete fail -- and it certainly was in this case, because as soon as he appeared on the scene I thought fatalistically, "Well, I like this guy a lot, but it's no good hoping he and Emily will get together. Not only because he's so much older, but because he has a physical disability and we all know that characters with disabilities never get to be the love interest, especially in older novels." And then his friendship with Emily developed to the place where I started to think, "Seriously, L.M. Montgomery? Are you going to go there? Because if you do you will be my favorite author EVER."
And then it turns out (SPOILERS HO) that his hunched back has twisted his soul and made him grasping and selfish, so that he could not bear to admit that Emily's book was any good because it might mean she loved something more than him. And therefore he does the spectacularly appalling thing of lying to her about whether her book is any good or not, and ultimately manipulating her into becoming engaged to him out of pity and despair, because by that point her dreams are crushed and she believes she has no chance at anything "better".
And therein lies my RAGE. Especially considering that the boy Emily chooses in the end, Teddy, has all the personality and depth of overcooked pasta. I didn't feel that Dean's behavior to Emily really grew organically and naturally out of his character. I felt it was a cheap and rather horrible way to get rid of the Imperfect Guy so Emily could have the (boringly) Perfect Guy.
Yes, it is true that some people never get over the bitterness of having a disability, and that the experience of disability can change some people for the worse, just as it changes some for the better (or just plain changes them, period). But when you have so VERY few representations of people with disabilities in literature, there is a far greater danger that any one representation will be taken as expressive of the whole.
What I want to know is, how many girls over the years have read the EMILY series and come away with the subconscious impression that it's better not to get romantically involved with a man who has a disability, because people with disabilities are prone to become grasping and selfish and needy? How many of these girls ever, in the entire rest of their lives, read a book in which a character with a disability was a fully rounded and sympathetically portrayed individual, who -- despite any number of realistic flaws, such as all good characters should possess -- could earn, and keep, the love of a non-disabled character? Because there are so incredibly few of those books around, and the likelihood of stumbling across one if you don't actively seek it out is almost vanishingly small.
I'm not advocating that authors make all their characters with disabilities into paragons of virtue. Therein lies Tiny Tim and another cliche which is just as obnoxious. What I am advocating is more and wider representations of character with disabilities, and for authors to stop carelessly demonizing such characters by associating physical disability with outright villainy.