A beautifully written book. Really enjoyed reading this. Thanks to publishers and NetGalley for the opportunity to read.

Okay, I'm a bit late to the party on this one (like many of my reviews of late...), but I think I partially avoided this one for a while because I was nervous. 'Disabled' as a label that I lay claim to, if perhaps a little delicately - not sure if I'm allowed to hold it, have it as my own. I've been chronically ill for 20 years now, and have had chronic pain on and off throughout most of that time, but it's been hard - as I know it has been for many other people - to acknowledge and truly feel like I can accept the label of 'disabled'. Much like other people, I often feel as if the term disabled is only used for people in wheelchairs, and even though I have used a wheelchair after surgeries in the past, and have had to really consider whether that might be a regular part of my future, I haven't really been a part of that definition - even when I was actively using a Disability Support Plan at University. Some days now, I feel like a proud disabled person, other days I just feel fearful that I'm doing something wrong by claiming that label. It's a work in progress, as much of life is.

Anyway, onto the book.

Disfigured can occasionally come across as a little bit of a jumble of things - memoir, deep dives on particular fairy tales, discussions on Disney movies - all shoved into one relatively-tiny book. And, whilst I have seen a few other people complaining about how it isn't 'academic enough' or even 'pseudo-academic' (didn't know that was a thing! Learning.), I loved the exploration of this book, and how it led me through a forest of Amanda Leduc's thoughts, musings, past experiences, and research.

Perhaps because I have always loved nature writing with a touch of memoir, I was able to just slip into this one quite easily - explorations with a touch of memoir, something of a personal essay tied together with sparkle fairy lights and barbed wire. It felt a lot like sitting down to a cup of tea with Amanda and just listening as she thought through things, and I loved that.

There are definitely some challenging things here, and I think for anyone who hasn't really thought about the ableism inherent on things like fairy tales, Disney movies, or perhaps just everyday life, it might be quite confronting. I recently had someone ask me what ableism was, and I stumbled through an approximation of an answer (never mind that I actually didn't owe them anything, my anxiety never remembers that people can just google stuff). Now I wish I could just hand them a card with google search terms on it, along with a copy of this book. Because this book did make me feel seen, it made me feel like things I had thought about and the issues in certain stories that I had noticed but not said anything about were valid and real. And it took me on a journey that I think I will return to regularly in the future whenever my own ingrained ableism starts to act up again (vicious little thing).

This has been a very random and roundabout review, but I hope it comes across that I loved this book. I may check out Amanda Leduc's fiction next. Highly recommend her work.

10/10 houses made of gingerbread (allergy friendly).

This book was so well laid out and so informative. It was so eye-opening to see all the examples of disfigurement/disability lined up one after another and the narrative they built. I think Disfigured is a book everyone should read.

I found this a really informative thought-provoking read, touching on subject matter and discussions I've found helpful in texts like DISABILITY VISIBILITY and ABOUT US for example. The fairytale focus was also one I learned alot from, and built on content I've learned from watched Jen Campbell's booktube videos.

Grateful to have received a review copy from Netgalley, and I can also highly recommend the audiobook edition which I listened to via hoopla.

Definitely recommended with two slight caveats. In <i>Disfigured: On Fairy Tales, Disability, and Making Space</i> Amanda Leduc explores how disability is represented in the classic fairy tale stories, ie. Grimm, Hans Anderson, and Disney, and how those narratives impact our imaginings of disability. Leduc weaves together thoughtful research, commentary on specific fairy tales, interviews with other disability writers and advocates, and vulnerable & personal on her own experiences as a disabled person with cerebral palsy. I read through this really quickly and found a lot of her observations really point on and thought-provoking.

Small caveats:
- Occasionally it feels like Leduc is undecided in who her audience is. I think this is a reflection of the essays pulled together into a book (some chapters have been previously published in essay form) as these chapters may have different audiences. For instance, sometimes it feels like disabled folks are the author's primary audience but then at other times (most notably for me in the last chapter) for non-disabled folks.
- For the most part, Leduc is really adept at decentering whiteness and highlighting the multifaceted experience of BIPOC disabled folks. (Note: I'm a white person saying this so my perspective is limited and I may miss stuff that BIPOC people wouldn't.) Yet, there's at least one notable moment when Leduc discusses both Kate Middleton and Meghan Markle in very similar terms (as idealized fairy tale like women) without acknowledging how race impacts Markle's experience. This is an extremely minor part of the book, maybe one paragraph, but it was just an odd moment.

<b>Overall, strongly recommended!</b> Thanks to NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

I was really looking forward to reading this, but despite there being no archive date set, I now see that it's been archived! And two months before publication too. A shame as I was very keen to read.

Oh. My. God. This book.


"In fairy tales, disability is often a metaphor, and that is itself a form of erasure.

But my cerebral palsy has never been a metaphor for anything. It has only ever been me -- me, myself, my body." [13%]

I'm not disabled, but I've always been a chubby kid and am now a plus-size woman, and I related SO HARD to Leduc's thesis that fairy tales allow only certain types of bodies to be granted happy endings. Leduc also raises many good points on the trope of transformation in fairy tales and superhero stories, and the message therein that you must "overcome" your less-than-"perfect" body to get your happily ever after. There's a lot of emphasis on "overcoming" your own obstacle, and considerably less emphasis on the role that a supportive community can play in making your world better overall.

There are so many gems in this book, and I wasn't sure how to write a blog review because there's just so much to absorb and to unpack. So I'm going to go with a full-on gush, and just post some highlights that I noted while reading.

- According to Leduc, the social model of disability acknowledges that the issue around disability isn't the physical condition of disabled people's bodies, but rather the fact that society excludes disabled people, whether through stigma or through design of social spaces. Leduc then raises a good point that the trope of transformation in fairy tales suggests that the problem is actually within the individual's body rather than with broader social structures: "Interestingly, it is never society that changes, no matter how many half-animals or scullery maids are out there arguing for their place at the table." [15%]

- While Leduc seems to align with the social model of disability, I love that she also points out its limitations. There are conditions like fatigue and chronic pain that even a fully accessible society won't eradicate, but the pressure to abide by the social model of disability may make some disabled people hesitant to talk about experiences that may be perceived to critique the social model. [19%]

- I love this quote so much:

"Princess meets Prince, and falls in love, over and over and over again.

And I have Quasimodo, misshapen and kind, who finds friends at the end of his story and is happy about, because that is the only kind if happiness he is allowed to have." [32%]

- I love that Leduc interviews other disabled people about their responses to fairy tales, and why some of them are so troubling from a disability lens. One example is the original Beauty and the Beast story, where the Beast's beasthood can be seen as a form of disability (because it's a physical feature that sets him apart from the social norm). In the original version, Beauty agrees to marry the Beast, but hesitates to marry him once he becomes a Prince again, because "When I accepted him, I believed that I was taking pity on something below humanity." [55%] The idea that the Beast's difference renders him, first, as a thing rather than a person, and second, as being less than human rather than simply different, can be outright hurtful to some readers. I hadn't thought about this before, but will now no longer look at Beauty and the Beast the same way again.

- I also love that Leduc calls out the "invisible hierarchy" of disabled people, where those who are intellectually disabled often face more discrimination than those who are physically disabled. This isn't a point I see raised often, and it gave me a lot to think about.

- I absolutely, positively love how Leduc includes mental illness in the conversation on disability. Mental illness does also lead to experiencing many social barriers, but I find it's often treated as a separate conversation altogether, so I love that this book raises awareness and understanding on how it can be a form of disability as well. Leduc also shares the fascinating -- and super troubling -- history about how mental health experiences used to be thought of as someone being replaced by a changeling. There's a story of a guy who killed his wife because of it. Leduc contextualizes this with her own experience of depression, and how her loved ones noticed the change in her. [70%] Stories - and what we learn from the characters in them - matter. 

- At 74%, I was basically cheering out loud while reading this book: YES!!! On how we often have an idea of who 'deserves' a happy ending -- the grateful protagonist, the obedient princess, etc. And YES!!! on how white privilege plays into that idea, and people who are BIPOC, disabled, otherwise marginalized, may receive less access to mental health supports because they are seen as less than 'ideal.'


The book also made me reflect on my own thoughtless privilege. Leduc shares an anecdote about how she once left a lindy hop dance class after her partner teased her for concentrating too hard and taking things so seriously. That reminded me of a ballroom dancing class in high school PE where I teased my dance partner for the same thing. My immediate response to Leduc's story was defensiveness -- my dance partner wasn't disabled, and obviously, if she had been, I would have been more understanding about it. But the truth is that my dance partner shouldn't have to disclose a disability for me to respect her approach to dancing. Whatever my partner's reasons were for concentrating more than I was on the dance, they were valid, and I shouldn't have made her feel self-conscious about it. (My teasing also caused us to fall behind from the group, and then bump into our classmates when I sped up our pace to try and catch up. So, in hindsight, my partner may have had the right idea on the concentration front.)

My main takeaway is something Leduc says near the end, which is basically that we need to make space for different stories, where the protagonist with the different body gets their happy ending not because they overcome obstacles on their own but because they have a community that pulls them through. As Leduc says, "My walk, my legs, my body -- I am, all of me, a feature. (We are, all of us, a feature.)" [81%]

It's been a while since a book has affected me this much, and I can only imagine its impact on disabled readers. Read it.

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Thank you to the Coach House Books for an e-galley in exchange for an honest review.

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This review will go live on my blog January 20, 2020 at 8 am ET.

This book sparks excellent conversations in regards to fairy tales and how foundational myths of our culture seem to factor out disability through our most regular archetypes. Leduc shows the connection between the ability and reexamines them from a modern eye. What happens if we change the narrative and give the person with the disability a chance to have their own happy ending?

Disability is not a monolith- every disabled person’s experience in the world is different, and the way that we all navigate the world is likewise varied and complex.

This is one of the most beautiful books I have read in years. Fairy-tales are a part of our lives, serving as a model for modern day stories, often as lessons in morality, a warning, a guiding tale that even smacks of those early after school specials my generation was so fond of. Then there are the romances, a foundation on which so many little girls have built their castles, with a Prince waiting to save them. Beautiful girls, at least. What exactly is the measure of beauty? In nearly all of the well known tales, it certainly isn’t any character who has a disability, unless of course it is conquered, all that spell breaking, true love’s kiss, shucking off the ‘deformity’ or ‘madness’ or ‘disfigurement’. Disfigurement is only enchanting if it is has a use for the ‘able bodied’ narrative, and it’s often not something the ‘able-bodied’ think about. Amanda Leduc dissects many of the familiar fairy tales, and lesser known ones, to shed light on how the disabled are used, abused, or downright invisible in such stories. It’s eye opening, and disheartening. Growing up with Cerebral Palsy, Amanda certainly didn’t see any stories about little girls with her hospital stays, operations, struggles. Princesses only twirled with balletic perfection, they sure weren’t in wheel chairs, and if any characters had a disease or deformity, they were either evil, cursed, or imbeciles who are lucky to be mentioned at all. The goal is often landing the Prince or taking one’s rightful place on the throne, but it is always about golden beauty because anything less won’t procure a happy ending. How could anyone have a happy ending if they have a chronic illness, a disease, a disability, and don’t get me started on mental health? Happy endings while deformed? The horror of it!

While this book explores the theme of disability in fairy tales, it is Leduc sharing how she has felt, and feels now, about her place in the world as defined by others, and herself. A child can have the most loving parents, but that child still must go out into the world, and face condescending attitudes, pity, cruelty even in our current time of awareness, (it is still half-assed awareness, though). Often, the person who has a disability or illness is meant to feel like it’s a special boon to be offered the same treatment the able-bodied receive. Maybe there are teaching moments, but does anyone you know want to be a poster child every waking moment of their life, or feel like a curiosity? For their body to be a horror story for another, one they just could’t survive if they had to reside in it? A big moment that hit me like a gut punch in the book is the idea that only in overcoming, ignoring everything from mental illness to very real pain and obstacles makes someone worthy because damn, it’s only a good life if the curse of sickness or imperfection is lifted! How is that for reality? Why should the world accommodate you, don’t you want to be just like the rest of us? Why are you so different? It is true, people equate disease, illness, disability, disfigurement as weak. Try harder! Rally around yourself! Go out in the sunshine! Sure…

My son grew up under the umbrella of autism, he didn’t look like he had struggles (what does that mean) and a label didn’t help as much as it should have, in fact often once educators knew how to define him, well he was no longer an individual, just an autistic. Some people meant well, others not so much. There were kind children, well meaning adults but attitudes tended to shift in the negative, with mocking, laughter, and exclusion, a forced feeling of isolation. Amanda’s story about her school journal made me heartsick, a violation as brutal as the wing scene in Maleficent. These things stick, we carry them with us. There are still hard times, he graduated college but still has obstacles, in real life unlike in fairy tales, there isn’t some spell that collecting the right ingredients will break, nor a quest that will allow some god or fairy to shine their benevolence upon him anymore than on the people who face each day of their life with their disability, illness. They aren’t asking for a gold star, special treatment, is it special treatment to be afforded dignity, accessibility, to be heard when speaking, understanding beyond a parking space or a toilet stall (that, let’s face it, more often than not is occupied by able-bodied folks)?

Disfigured is one of the most provocative books on disability I have read and I admit ignorance, there were connections I never thought about in the same light as Amanda. We are moving forward though at a snail’s crawl. I remember a commercial recently for a store selling Halloween costumes for children in wheel chairs, and I thought that is fantastic and yet ‘long overdue’. I fell the same about commercials serving as campaigns for acceptance showing skin with scars, freckles, vitiligo and how my daughter would have benefited from that when she was a little girl and at school was harassed by one constant question, ‘what is wrong with your skin.’ Inclusion is still a fight, resources are incredibly lacking in the school system alone, training isn’t always available, some schools push you to keep your kid separated not because it’s easier for the student but easier on everyone else, you think the adult world of disability is better? Amanda Leduc is right, who has fought more for everything they have? Why can’t they be represented in stories that children can look up to, beyond being a curse that love can fix, only of value when the disability or disfigurement is no more? Maybe with more voices being heard, the world can change, rather than push conformity.

This is a book everyone should read. Positive affirmations have their place, say if you have a cold, but this grin and bear it nonsense aimed towards people coping with obstacles so many of us cannot fathom just minimizes many lives, reduces real flesh and blood people. There is no shame in disability, different isn’t a tragedy and certainly our stories should include all of humanity. Happy endings, if we’re honest, don’t end in broken curses. Life is ups and downs, ill health, good health, loss and gains. There is no shame in needing medication, mobility aids, therapy… the shame is that it has been circulated as a tragedy, a horror story, a lesson in badness, evilness or that beauty is only one thing, ‘able-bodied’. My review does not do justice to the insights Amanda Leduc shares, absolutely read this book!

Publication Date: February 4, 2020

Coming soon

Coach House Books

Disfigured brings up such an interesting and valuable discussion of disability and fairy tales! I thought at first this was an academic study, and while Leduc does mention and consult some academic sources it does not feel particularly academic. This is by no means bad but I just assumed it would be slightly different an maybe relevant for future study on fairy tales I'm thinking of doing. I'd recommend this to anyone looking to read nonfiction about disability or fairy tales!

A fascinating in-depth look at ableism in classic fairy tales and the effects these have on modern day stories. Disfigured makes you rethink the way classic literature demonizes those living with disabilities. A captivating and informative read!

A special thank you to Netgalley for providing me with a free advanced copy of this book in exchange for my honest opinion.