But how is that any less offensive, to say that someone is psychologically twisted because of their physical disability?
Because it's not a direct equation of disability with evil, as Shakespeare intended with Richard III. It's an acknowledgment that disabled people can have negative emotions. In the context of what we're discussing, quite a healthy image really, regardless of authorial impetus.
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.
I guess we're going to have to agree to disagree on this one. :)
Montgomery carefully -- if admittedly sketchily -- denotes Teddy as Emily's soulmate from the beginning, while Dean is steadily more condescending and controlling. So I've never felt like I was being manipulated towards Teddy and/or away from Dean; the latter simply wants what he can't have, so over-reaches in his despair -- an extremely human reaction, with a long and honoured history in melodrama. There is a very good reason Montgomery explicitly associated Jane Eyre with Dean's story. :)
(For an excellent scholarly discussion on the subject -- and Montgomery's attitudes to romance generally -- I'd highly recommend The Fragrance of Sweetgrass, by LMM 'spert Rea Wilmshurst.)
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.
OK, fair enough. I guess it depends on your concept of authorial responsibility; I was thinking more in terms of pure storytelling. I would argue that it is the author's part to tell their story, not take responsibility for their audiences' worldview. The same story that features a positive disabled archetype may offend against women, say, or minorities... all of which may be entirely necessary, in context.
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?
Honestly? I'd start this campaign way back at 'characters' generally, not just disabled ones. :) How many of these girls will ever read a book featuring fully rounded and insightfully portrayed individuals?
Rather than try and carefully catalogue everything characters should not be, let's more fully explore what they are -- encourage readers to see individuals, rather than stereotypes of any sort -- and see where that leads. At the least, a person who has been taught to think about the complexities of the human experience is one who is going to be much more open to it in any form. :) (Edited as the original was hastily scribbled down on lunch break. Think of this as the polished draft.)
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Because it's not a direct equation of disability with evil, as Shakespeare intended with Richard III. It's an acknowledgment that disabled people can have negative emotions. In the context of what we're discussing, quite a healthy image really, regardless of authorial impetus.
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.
I guess we're going to have to agree to disagree on this one. :)
Montgomery carefully -- if admittedly sketchily -- denotes Teddy as Emily's soulmate from the beginning, while Dean is steadily more condescending and controlling.
So I've never felt like I was being manipulated towards Teddy and/or away from Dean; the latter simply wants what he can't have, so over-reaches in his despair -- an extremely human reaction, with a long and honoured history in melodrama. There is a very good reason Montgomery explicitly associated Jane Eyre with Dean's story. :)
(For an excellent scholarly discussion on the subject -- and Montgomery's attitudes to romance generally -- I'd highly recommend
The Fragrance of Sweetgrass, by LMM 'spert Rea Wilmshurst.)
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.
OK, fair enough. I guess it depends on your concept of authorial responsibility; I was thinking more in terms of pure storytelling. I would argue that it is the author's part to tell their story, not take responsibility for their audiences' worldview.
The same story that features a positive disabled archetype may offend against women, say, or minorities... all of which may be entirely necessary, in context.
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?
Honestly? I'd start this campaign way back at 'characters' generally, not just disabled ones. :) How many of these girls will ever read a book featuring fully rounded and insightfully portrayed individuals?
Rather than try and carefully catalogue everything characters should not be, let's more fully explore what they are -- encourage readers to see individuals, rather than stereotypes of any sort -- and see where that leads. At the least, a person who has been taught to think about the complexities of the human experience is one who is going to be much more open to it in any form. :)
(Edited as the original was hastily scribbled down on lunch break. Think of this as the polished draft.)