August 2, 2024 - 21:37
Seed
In week eight of this course (the week after spring break), we read a piece Nicola Griffith wrote for the New York Times’ Disability Column. The article, entitled “Rewriting the Old Disability Script,” discusses the importance of stories and how new stories can mend old ones. She does this by comparing the story, or in other words the fiction, that talks about her lesbian and her disabled identities. Griffith writes, “Disability fiction today is in roughly the same place queer fiction was 70 years ago or more. Imagine if all queer fiction today were as depressing as ‘The Well of Loneliness’ [a trope that once plagued queer fiction]. Then imagine that most disability fiction is worse.”
Griffith links to an article written by writer and disability activist Kenny Frìes. He observes, “In most popular culture disability continues to be defined by the nondisabled gaze.” He then proposes the Fries Test, which asks several questions of a work of fiction: “Does a work have more than one disabled character? Do the disabled characters have their own narrative purpose other than the education and profit of a nondisabled character? Is the character’s disability not eradicated either by curing or killing?”
Methods
For this project, I decided to read some books that pass the Fries Test and then attempt to come up with the “Grace Test” for disability fiction.
My reading list started with a list Nicola Griffith made (and linked to on her NYT article). I chose to pick up the following from Griffith’s list: Geek Love by Katherine Dunn and Call Me Ahab: A Short Story Collection by Anne Finger. I then thought about books I’d already read that might pass the Frìes Test. I came up with three: All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr, The Fault in Our Stars by John Green, and, of course, Good Kings, Bad Kings by Susan Nussbaum. I collected some thoughts about each book below. I tried to avoid spoilers as much as possible.
All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr
This book combines several things I love: war stories, disability stories, and beautiful writing. Taking place during World War II, the novel follows Marie-Laurie, a blind Parisian, and Werner, a German boy unhappily in the Hitler Youth. Now, you might be thinking that only one of these characters is disabled, but I believe, having been raised and abused in Nazi Germany, Werner experiences more than enough mental and physical trauma to last a lifetime. The stories of Marie-Laurie and Werner converge in Saint-Malo, where Werner is sent as a soldier and where Marie-Laurie flees to from Paris. Although one of these characters is killed (I won’t say which one), it isn’t because of their disability but simply a side-effect of war.
(Side-note: There is a Netflix series based on this book starring a blind actor. While the show doesn’t follow the book exactly, it’s pretty good, if a little far-fetched.)
The Fault in Our Stars by John Green
Famous for its devastating ending, you probably at least know a bit about this story: Hazel Lancaster, a sixteen year-old cancer patient, attends Cancer Kid Support Group in a church basement. In walks Augustus Waters, our second protagonist. Hazel and Gus proceed to fall in love. John Green did his research for this book, and so the resulting work plays with themes of the harmfulness of stereotyping disabled characters, humor, and lying to protect the one you love. Revisiting this book gave me a whole new appreciation for the fact that John Green spoke with people who actually have cancer, because his characters actually speak like my disabled friends and I. Although a certain character does die at the end of the novel, it’s not for any reason other than it’s hard to talk about cancer without also talking about death.
(The Fault in Our Stars is also a movie, but it’s not as good. It leans into the very cancer stereotypes the book is trying to fight.)
(Another side-note: While John Green’s Turtles All The Way Down technically doesn’t pass the Fries Test, it is a fantastic portrayal of OCD. The movie is also wonderful.)
Good Kings, Bad Kings
We all read this book, so I don’t need to worry about spoilers. The novel uses the various perspectives of people living and working in the Illinois Learning and Life Skills Center (ILLC), including those of Yessie, Teddy, Mia, Ricky, Joaanne, Jimmie, and Michelle. This book made me think about institutions and the “Disability Gulag” (to quote Harriet McBryde Johnson. I thought institutions were a thing of the past, but I was sadly mistaken. I now realize that companies (like the fictional Whitney-Palm) will do anything to make a profit, even sacrifice their own workers and the people they are meant to serve.
I am a fan of books that end ambiguously, and this novel is no exception. Authors who end their books with a little ambiguity trust their readers enough to fill in the blanks. Plus, ambiguous endings are more fun, I think, than just being told “blah blah blah” happened.
I’ve wondered where the book’s title came from ever since we started reading it. I found the following information in Susan Nussbaum’s obituary in The New York Times:
The book’s title came from reporting in The New York Times about Jonathan Carey, an autistic boy who was killed by an employee of the Oswald D. Heck Developmental Center, near Albany, where Jonathan was living. “I could be a good king or a bad king,” the man told the boy as he asphyxiated him, according to court documents.
That line stuck with Ms. Nussbaum, she said in a 2013 interview with the website Bitch Media. “It became the title because it reminded me how, when it comes to kids, the adults have all the power. And when the adult in question has no emotional connection to the child, and the child’s welfare is turned over to that adult — as is the case in institutions — terrible things can happen.”
We do see a somewhat similar episode in the novel, but luckily Ricky keeps doesn’t let anything happen to Pierre. The choice to be a good king or a bad king is definitely a theme throughout. It reoccurs through Mia’s rapist, Joanne’s talks with ILLC’s residents, and how Jimmie brings Yessie to her shows.
Call Me Ahab by Anne Finger
Now I’m getting to the books I read for this project. The first one is a short story collection. I don’t actually read many short story collections. I guess I would rather read a longer-form story. But I found this collection exciting and easy to read. There are nine stories in here and all ask questions surrounding disabled characters, such as: What if Frida Kahlo and Helen Keller met? What if the dwarf pictured in a seventeenth century Velasquez painting told her own story? What if the one-legged captain depicted in Moby Dick wrote down what actually happened? (You don’t need to read a 500-page book about a whale in order to read and enjoy this story. I haven’t, anyway.) I loved this book; it made me look at disability in a new way. I collected some quotes that illustrate my point.
“This isn’t going to be one of those movies where they put their words into our mouths” (2).
“Be a dwarf. They call it a sign of degeneracy, inferiority, but in this world they have made it is a distinct advantage” (56).
“The worship of the healthy body, the fear of us, is the taproot of fanaticism” (68).
“The blindness in this story isn’t a metaphor…[It] is a solid, meaningless thing…” (117).
I feel like nothing can sell a book quite like it’s own writing. I encourage you to pick up the book!
Geek Love by Katherine Dunn
I will again try to keep my thoughts spoiler-free, but admittedly that is especially hard with this book.
The essential premise is that the novel follows a family called the Binewskis. The mother and father set out to create their own freak show. The resulting family is—like any other—full of joy, disfunction, competition, and—unlike most families—disability. I will say that the novel gets very dark at points, but it’s also very funny. It is worth reading, I think—not because it makes having a disability look good all the time, but because it makes disability into the complex thing that it is. Having a disability is neither the worst thing nor the best thing, but the complicated mixture of both. Katherine Dunn understands this and writes it very well into her novel.
Conclusions
After reading and revisiting these books, I think I can add a few questions to the Fries Test. The “Grace Test” is as follows:
“Does a work have more than one disabled character?
Do the disabled characters have their own narrative purpose other than the education and profit of a nondisabled character?
Is the character’s disability not eradicated either by curing or killing?” (The above questions are included in the Fries Test.) To this question, I would like to add: If the disabled character/s is/are killed, is it for a reason other than the eradication of disability?
Does the novel take on a complicated view of disability (neither completely good nor completely bad)?
Does the work focus on something besides dealing with a disability (i.e. family, love, war, etc.)?
If I were to write one question to summarize my test, it would be: Do readers walk away from this work with a better understanding of what being disabled is like?
I think all of the books above pass this test. And good news: this year’s campus read, The Heaven & Earth Grocery Store, passes the Grace Test! Be sure to leave any recommendations you have for books that pass the Grace Test in the comments. I love talking about books, so let’s continue this conversation!