Children With Disabilities In Charlotte Bronte's Villette

According to the Old English Dictionary, “disability” is defined as the “lack of ability (to discharge any office or function); inability, incapacity; weakness” or as a “physical or mental condition that limits a person’s movements, senses or activities.” Both uses have been a part of the English language since the 1500s (OED). However, while this definition pertains to the technical definition, most critics argue that disability is socially constructed because we live in an able-bodied society that does not accommodate the disabled community. In literature, children with disabilities were often portrayed negatively because they were unlikely to survive until adulthood. For instance, in Charlotte Bronte’s Villette (1853), Marie Broc has an

unknown disability and is referred to as “the crétin” because of her behavior and appearance (226). Or children with a disability were sent away to institutions, or used as a virtuous child who lacked emotions and was used to changed the mind of the main able-bodied character like in Charles Dickens’ Tiny Tim from A Christmas Carol (1843) where Tiny Tim is presented as a catalyst for changing Scrooge’s attitude about how he treats others (Quicke).
From the 1960s to the1980s, Disability Studies solidified and focused on theory and representation in art, literature, film and all other aspects of culture while creating normality surrounding the term (Linton 518; Garland-Thomson; Linton). In children’s literature “there was a new kind of realism in children’s books. Topics once considered too sophisticated, emotionally upsetting or demanding were now deemed appropriate for young readers” (Pollard 263; Keith). The advances in medical technology made children with a disability more accepted within children’s literature and inevitable crossover of Disability studies and children’s literature culminated when Disability Studies Quarterly featured an issue in 2004 that focused entirely on children’s literature (Pollard 263). Critics argued that while books in the genre were progressing from the virtuous or monstrous child, they still fail to capture the honest experience of disability because “[writers] face have often been limited by their own narrow view and lack of any real understanding of what it is like to be disabled” (Pollard; Keith). Books involving disability break down into two categories: books for all children that include disability and those that are produced specifically for children with disability – like sensory books for children with autism. For the purposes of length, I will be focusing on literature that presents disabled characters.
When reading a book that includes a character with a disability, is the book for a child who has a disability? Blaska argues that books about disability should help able-bodied children understand the disability they are reading about like picture books Since We’re Friends by Celeste Shally and My Brother Charlie by Holly Robinson Peete and Ryan Elizabeth Peete that both explain autism through images. Both depict how to handle a relationship between a character with autism and an able-bodied child. All My Stripes by Shaina Rudolph and Danielle Royer markets itself as “A Story for Children with Autism” that depicts a zebra named Zane learning how to accept his autism. Prater argues that:
Today, authors include characters with disability to (a) focus on the life of an individual with a disability, or (b) tell a story that happens to include an individual with a disability. In the first case, fictionalized or true characters may serve as role models and/or as bibliotherapy for children with disabilities. In addition, such characterizations may give children without disabilities opportunities to vicariously experience and learn about disabilities. In the latter case, the author’s intent is not necessarily to provide role models or to teach abut disabilities, but to represent diversity in society” (47).
In Going Straight by Michael Coleman, Luke Reid, a young thief who is arrested and sentenced to a youth detention center, changes his life because of the blind victim he robbed helps him choose a new path.

So it becomes important to understand whether or not disability books become more about the able-bodied readers or about the readers who have the same experiences as the characters. The problem with presenting the book as a text for able-bodied children is that the character with a disability becomes a part of the “second fiddle phenomenon” where they are only there to make a change in another character (Brittain; Carroll and Rosenblum; Keith; Curwood). Rather, the character with a disability “[serves] to bring the central character/s to a better understanding of themselves or disability” (Brittain). In Cynthia Lord’s Rules, twelve-year old Catherine learns how to accept disability and learns more about herself through her interactions with her brother, David who is autistic, and new friend Jason, who is in a wheelchair and cannot speak. During her experiences with Jason and David, she comes to terms with her own self-doubt. Should characters with disabilities should be portrayed with both audiences in mind, or can there only be one or the

other?
Presenting the text as intended for able-bodied children also leads into the discussion of whether or not didacticism is an appropriate feature of disability literature in children’s books. When this occurs, representation becomes less about the disability and that child’s experiences, and more about the importance of teaching able-bodied children about disability: “children’s literature about people with disabilities too often falls into stereotypes of didacticism, as the impulse to inform the reader wins out over the desire to tell a good story” (Tal 32). Therefore, the story about a character with a disability is overwhelmed by the author’s desire to teach the young readers a moral lesson. When this happens, didactic storytelling takes over for realism or the character’s disability was portrayed in a narrow view of the disability without providing individualized stories or characteristics. Quicke addresses this problem using early literature: “Also, in earlier periods, the descriptions of disabilities were relatively undifferentiated. A child was ‘blind’ or ‘lame’ but degrees of sightedness or different forms of physical handicap were not part of the language available at the time. (Quicke 10). Though there has been an increase of representation in recent years, such as an increase of deaf characters, there still is a inclination to leans towards a didactic message and well as sending a message that they are “victims” of their disability, rather than allowing the character accept their disability as a part of them (Rana 70; Matthew and Clow 67; Tal). Rana explains that while deaf characters often appear in children’s picture books or graphic novels, there are a limited number of texts that portray deafness in young adult novels, because authors are using deafness in children’s texts to teach a didactic message (70). However, there are texts that are doing a good job of representing deafness, like Cece Bell’s graphic novel, El Deafo, which tells the semi-autobiographical story of Cece, depicted as a deaf bunny who learns to accept her deafness as a part of her.
On top of didacticism, accuracy is another aspect of children literature featuring disability that varies between true realistic depictions of disability versus shying away from difficult issues that may crop up within a story. Carroll and Rosenblum argue that these types of children’s books should always avoid using stereotypes of whatever disability is being represented (623). They explain, “…the book should confront the disability in a realistic manner, not overemphasizing the disability but providing evidence that the character faces challenges because of it” (Carroll and Rosenblum 624). Marcello in the Real World by Francisco X. Story is one such novel that depicts Asperger’s syndrome accurately, while providing subtle information for readers about this form of autism. Books should not, as most critics agree, follow the medical model where characters are defined by their disability by medical issues or the focus is on becoming cured, like Colin who is cured of his hunchback in Frances Hodgson Burnett’s The Secret Garden. When authors fail to depict disability accurately, characters become a superhero or exceed normal human characteristics, or they fail to accurately describe the disability (Brittain 264). This failure conflicts with the idea that these books should teach able-bodied children about disability, and instead positions these characters as extraordinary. However, while Carroll and Rosenblum argue that accuracy or a realistic depiction would not necessarily mean a tidy “happily ever after” for the character as not not every issue will be – or should be – solved within the story. But Brittain also makes the argument that a failure of children’s literature featuring disability occurs when “The author fails to see a happy and fulfilled life being a possibility for a character with an impairment” (Brittain 264). In Anything But Typical by Nora Raleigh Baskin, Jason Blake grows and experiences hardship, and not every issue is solved at the end of the text, but readers know that Jason will be okay after the story ends. There has to be a balance between acknowledging that the character may not have all of their issues solved within the book, and understanding that they cannot be happy because of their disability – how authors achieve that balance is still up for debate.
While scholars, teachers, librarians and parents can agree that there isn’t enough literature featuring disability or enough accurate representation of characters with disabilities, they disagree on what it means to have quality children’s literature representing disability (Rana 69; Dyches, Prater, and Lieninger 305). While texts have moved away from representing disability as a “monster,” there are still issues within children’s literature that attempts to represent disability because according to Joan Blaska, “Perhaps no group has been as overlooked and inaccurately presented in children’s books as individuals with disabilities.” The quality of literature comes from all aspects of the text, though they disagree which is the most important. From accuracy, the character with a disability is the focus of the story, characters should be realistic, should not become objects, and many others scholars disagree about what makes the text quality (Brittain; Blaska; Carroll and Rosenblum; Dyches, Prater, and Lieninger).. Is it merely having a book that represents a minority group? Should it be didactic? Should it be accurate? Another argument about the quality comes from Saunders and Kings “posit that many underestimate the role that children’s texts play ‘as an agent increasing, preserving, and reflecting cultural attitudes,” meaning that writers, publishers, teachers, parents, etc. don’t understand the impact that children’s literature have on reinforcing societal structures that perhaps we should be moving away from (103). And Tobin Siebers argues “that disability is ‘the product of social injustice, one that requires not the cure or elimination of the defective person but significant changes in the social and built environment’” (qtd. in Yenika-Aghaw 94). (EXAMPLES)
What all scholars in disability studies focusing on children’s literature can agree on is that there needs to be more books representing all types of disability.