In the foreword to Realms of Imagination: Essays from the Wide Worlds of Fantasy (2023) Neil Gaiman speaks about how fantasy as a genre is often viewed as ‘trivial’ or ‘foolish’ despite giving us ‘powerful tools with which to tell fine stories’ (pg. 11)
As a PhD researcher whose work is primarily concerned with disability representation in fantasy novels, this dismissal of the genre is something I am faced with often. So, when I heard about the Realms of Imagination exhibition at the British Library last year, a whole exhibition dedicated to fantasy novels, it was like a childhood dream come true.
And it was spectacular. 120 exhibits took me on a winding journey through the many different subcategories of fantasy. There were handwritten manuscripts, first editions, and memorabilia from film and TV adaptions of novels, such as Game of Thrones and the Lord of the Rings. The exhibition even showcased how fan interactions with these texts can expand the world beyond that which was originally created by the author.
However, as I got to the end of the exhibition, I couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. In this wonderful collection, there were numerous mentions of how fantasy texts could be used to combat racism, antisemitism and celebrate diversities of culture and belief (as there should be). Yet, I didn’t see a single mention of disability in fantasy.
It felt, in a small way, as if this quest to ‘summarise Fantasy’ (Kirk and Sangster, pg. 12 2023) was confirming a realisation I had about 20 years ago.
See, at eight years old, I was a voracious reader, particularly of fantasy books. I’d spend hours reading about heroes on all different kinds of adventures, and good always triumphed over evil. In the rare times I wasn’t reading, I was imagining that I was joining my favourite protagonists on their journeys or perhaps I was off on a journey of my own.
Until one day, I had a realisation.
I was reading Ranger’s Apprentice series, which to this day is still one of my favourites. The main character Will, had always resonated with me. He was smaller than all the other boys his age—like me—which meant he couldn’t become a knight. But these books showed that not everybody followed the same path, and this perceived weakness became his strength.
It gave me hope for my future, until it suddenly occurred to me that Will wasn’t exactly like me. Because I have a significant physical disability, in the form of quadriplegic cerebral palsy. In fact, I realised, no hero I’d ever seen had had a condition like mine.
It wasn’t as if I didn’t know about my disability before that, but I remember the thought I had as clear as day:
‘I can’t be a hero, because heroes don’t have disabilities.’
I began to search for characters who looked like me, in all kinds of books and what I found told me that the world around me thought the same thing. The number of characters with disabilities of any kind was few and far between, and those that I found often existed to inspire the main characters and would often die, or fade from existence once their narrative purpose had been fulfilled. Not only were people with disabilities incapable of being heroes, but they were often shown to be incapable of much at all.
And though I wasn’t consciously aware of it at the time, this belief became integral to the way I thought about myself.
But, if this is a problem concerned with the treatment of disabled characters in general, why the specific interest in fantasy novels?
Kirk and Sangster state that one of the genre’s defining features is the ‘…balance between imagined impossibilities and the harsh and gentle realities of our world.’ (pg. 13, 2023).
Nevertheless, fantasy is one of the worst offenders when it comes to negative representations of disability, with disabled characters either being magically cured or possessing some great power that renders their disabled identity mute. And to date, my research shows that many recent novels—published in the last decade—still perpetuate many of these outdated ideas about disability. Even such simple things as disabled characters pursuing romantic relationships are rarely shown.
So, what does it say about society’s beliefs surrounding disabled people when even in a genre largely concerned with ‘impossibilities’, we cannot imagine a disabled person having worth without ridding them of their disability?
The exhibition posited that ‘ideas about the nature of heroism change over time’ (Realms of Imagination 2024), and while this was a step in the right direction, I look forward to the day when ‘hero’ and ‘disability’ are no longer seen as mutually exclusive. Where positive disability representation in fantasy becomes commonplace, rather than another impossibility.
REFERENCES
Flanagan J (2004-2011), Ranger's Apprentice, Random House Australia, Melbourne
Kirk T and Sangster M (2023), Realms of Imagination: Essays from the Wide Worlds of Fantasy, British Library, London
Realms of Imagination (2024). [Exhibition]. British Library, London. 27 October 2023 – 25 February 2024.
