Interesting discussion. In my grad-school Victorian literature class, we read several books that featured disabled characters in one way or another. One was George Elliot's The Mill on the Floss, which features a character much like Dean Priest-- someone who understands the heroine and is in many ways a good match for her, but ultimately can't have her because he's a hunchback. Another was an obscure 1800-page novel called The Pillars of the House by Charlotte Yonge, about a family of 12 orphaned children, two of whom are disabled. The most disabled (he's mentally retarded due to complications at birth) is portrayed as a bright spot in the family's lives, but is killed in an accident near the end of the novel. The other child, Geraldine, is portrayed as weak and sickly, but she's a talented artist, who achieves some measure of fame despite her disability. Of course, she never marries.
The most intriguing novel we read, though, was an equally obscure novel by Dinah Craik, called Olive: The Story of a Young Girl (http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/22121). Although we would probably define Olive's limitations as a deformity rather than a disability (she has a slight hunchback and a short neck, but her movement is not impeded), in Victorian eyes she might as well have been a Barryaran mutie. Anyway, Olive also turns to art, in some measure as a palliative against what she believes she can never have-- love and marriage. But not only does she eventually fall in love, she also gets married. Shocking! Of course, she's also Mary Sue-ishly good, but it is, after all, a Victorian novel--one must make allowances. Fascinating, though, to find such a novel written in 1850.
I seriously considered concentrating on disability studies after taking that class--in fact, one of my good friends did end up writing about disability in Victorian literature for her thesis. It's an extremely interesting subject.
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The most intriguing novel we read, though, was an equally obscure novel by Dinah Craik, called Olive: The Story of a Young Girl (http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/22121). Although we would probably define Olive's limitations as a deformity rather than a disability (she has a slight hunchback and a short neck, but her movement is not impeded), in Victorian eyes she might as well have been a Barryaran mutie. Anyway, Olive also turns to art, in some measure as a palliative against what she believes she can never have-- love and marriage. But not only does she eventually fall in love, she also gets married. Shocking! Of course, she's also Mary Sue-ishly good, but it is, after all, a Victorian novel--one must make allowances. Fascinating, though, to find such a novel written in 1850.
I seriously considered concentrating on disability studies after taking that class--in fact, one of my good friends did end up writing about disability in Victorian literature for her thesis. It's an extremely interesting subject.