Dear Author: Please, don't heal me!Two melodramatic and overitalicised letters to author Alison Goodman
. My first venture in Blogging Against Disabalism. The short version:
Dear Ms Goodman,
Your book! It was epic! And exciting! And you never once
made a mess of your own pronouns or anyone else’s with one of the coolest trans characters I’ve ever seen! And your protagonist wasn’t too bad, either! You had me at the first kung-fu flourish. But wait! There's more!
Your lead was disabled?! And dealt
with it? And was allowed to get angry? And she was neither in a Quasimodo caricature, nor like anything Katy ‘I’m-gracefully-accepting-my-school-of-p
ain’ Carr? (i.e. an obligatory angel, afraid of the burden she places upon others.) She wasn’t either of those and
was she able to kick arse
moves that made sense?
Enough sense to make me overemphasise like the elocution teacher of doom? Yes! Oh, my god. Yes!
...and then you broke my heart.
MIRACLE. CURE. NOVEL.
Two things before the long version [EDIT: which has to go into a separate post because it's bloody enormous]
: One, this is not a book review. It is a book response. It contains spoilers. Big ones, as I am working under the assumption that not everyone reading this has read Alison Goodman’s Eon: Dragoneye Reborn
, originally released in Australia and the United Kingdom as The Two Pearls of Wisdom (2008).
Two: This is not the most detailed study you’re ever going to find on miracle cure novels. Lois Keith, in Take Up Thy Bed and Walk: death, disability and cure in classic fiction for girls (2001), is more eloquent than I in describing the scaffolding of these texts and their implications.