| Title | : | Disfigured: On Fairy Tales, Disability, and Making Space |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | 1552453952 |
| ISBN-10 | : | 9781552453957 |
| Format Type | : | Paperback |
| Number of Pages | : | 253 |
| Publication | : | First published February 11, 2020 |
By examining the ways that fairy tales have shaped our expectations of disability, Disfigured will point the way toward a new world where disability is no longer a punishment or impediment but operates, instead, as a way of centering a protagonist and helping them to cement their own place in a story, and from there, the world. Through the book, Leduc ruminates on the connections we make between fairy tale archetypes—the beautiful princess, the glass slipper, the maiden with long hair lost in the tower—and tries to make sense of them through a twenty-first-century disablist lens. From examinations of disability in tales from the Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen through to modern interpretations ranging from Disney to Angela Carter, and the fight for disabled representation in today's media, Leduc connects the fight for disability justice to the growth of modern, magical stories, and argues for increased awareness and acceptance of that which is other—helping us to see and celebrate the magic inherent in different bodies.
Disfigured: On Fairy Tales, Disability, and Making Space Reviews
-
Really interesting and informative. Helped me take a closer look at how disabilities are portrayed in fairytales and how these concepts transfer to real life. I was already familiar with how villains often have disabilities, but thought the author made great points about how heroes often "overcome" disabilities as if that is the reward for being a good person. Another great point the author makes is how positive change in fairytales is individualistic, rather than systematic. I would recommend this to writers to challenge the way we depict “good” and “evil” characters in stories and how happy endings are earned.
-
i read approx 2 nonfiction books per year, but i always really wish i could read more when i do.
this is an excellent read and i really recommend it!
bottom line: maybe it's for the best if i don't read more nonfiction. this reviewing process is unsustainable. -
4/5stars
I really wish I loved this more - this is about Disability and Disney, aka an entire chapter of my thesis. While I loved Leduc's conversation on Disability (SO much amazing information in this book such as definitions, discussions of what is currently happening in the Disability Rights movement and the Disability community as a whole, and personal stories from many different disabled people) I found her conversation about Disney and fairy tales very roundabout and lacking. She talked about The Lion King, The Little Mermaid, and Beauty and the Beast absolutely to DEATH but, during those conversations didn't even mention other characters who aren't as popular (say, Hook when discussing characters who are identified only by their disability??). I found her conversations to also be quite repetitive and never really come to a THESIS - it was more just a discussion and exploration, which is fine, but I wish it had that "this is important BECAUSE" moment.
Still very enjoyable and VERY accessible for able-bodied and neurotypical people who want to read about disability! -
Everyone should read this. And think deeply about how the ideas we have about disability, how the stories we tell shape the realities of both disabled and able-bodied children, and about how we might make the world into a more inclusive, accessible place. Disfigured combines personal memoir, fairytale analysis, and disability theory into a brief but compelling book that will probably make you stop and think about things you have taken for granted.
Why does goodness lead to magical cures for disabled characters in fairytales? Why is happily ever after equated to beauty and able-bodiedness? Think the Beast or The Little Mermaid. Why are villains so often disfigured or disabled in some way? Why is Scar from The Lion King reduced to his facial disfigurement? And what does it do to disabled children to never see themselves represented in the stories and films they consume, or only see themselves in villains or noble yet pitiable characters? When do we get a princess in a wheelchair?
The author raises important questions and offers a great deal of insight into where these stories originated, how people used them to make sense of the world, but also how dangerous they could be. For instance, the idea of changelings led to many weak or disabled children being left to die because their parents were convinced they were actually fairies in disguise and their real child had been stolen away. There are real world consequences to the stories that we tell. So go read this! Let it make you a bit more thoughtful, let it challenge some of your misconceptions or wrong subconscious beliefs. It's definitely worth it.
And as an added note, I appreciate how the author recognizes her relative privilege as a white disabled woman, and discusses how the intersection of disability and race can bring an added layer of discrimination. -
It was enlightening!
-
I'm not totally sure that all the different elements of this book came together as a whole to my total satisfaction, but in terms of content and writing, A+! Very interesting and provided a very helpful grounding in theory of understanding disabilities
-
this book is basically about how disability (or lack thereof) is portrayed in disney/folklore/fairy tales or just stories in general as we grow up. It really made me reflect and understand how I viewed the types of fictional stories that we consume as an audience... especially as kids.
(1)how we should stop making characters that the world would accept but letting the world accept characters that portray real, breathing people
(2)how it affects the way we see ourselves or how we perceive disabled people
(3)how representation in fairy tales is important growing up because those are the stories that we dream about, and if all these princesses are perfect... what will we think of ourselves when we realize that we cannot always be these very able bodied females that are perfectly molded to society?
i feel like any review i write won't match up to the level of importance i think this book is so just read it for yourself.“A world where disabled bodies are as common as fairy godmothers”
i don't usually read memoirs but after this one i just might start scavenging for more because maybe i just haven't found a lot that focus on topics that i am highly interested in :>
my heart is just bursting... with sadness or joy or contentment, go figure.
the storytelling and ideas were so well presented and the examples were relatable on a highly personal level. i could not recommend this more to anyone.
everyone needs to consume this. an #ownvoices memoir on disability and disney.
This book just gave me more concrete examples to push me towards reading more diverse books. There are so many types of people with even more books/stories to represent them (us) if we just actively try to find them.
instagram |
blog | ko-fi | booksirens -
Part literary and cultural criticism and part memoir, this book is engaging, readable and will certainly make readers think. I have arguments with many of the author’s ideas, but to an extent, this type of work exists as a starting point for debate. It will probably be most valuable to those who either have a deep personal investment in these issues or who haven’t ever engaged with disability activism or thought about disability representation in media before, but despite not falling into those categories, I still appreciated the memoir portions and found the book to be worthwhile food for thought. That said, this review will largely consist of the arguments because those take up more words!
Leduc, who has cerebral palsy and has suffered from depression, has a lot to say about fairy tales and how they represent people with disabilities: often the disability is a punishment, or is magically cured as a reward for virtue, or is the source of special powers. From fairy tales the book wanders into Disney movies—Leduc is really into princesses—and also, toward the end, superhero movies and the Game of Thrones show (heads up: she spoils the end without warning). Moving away from fairy tales to make sweeping statements based on only a narrow range of media seems to me a weakness, though her fairy tale criticism generally strikes me as solid. There are indeed many unfortunate messages in those old stories.
But what Leduc really wants to see in media is the realistic portrayal of the dailiness of living with a disability, without the disability meaning anything, being related in any way to magical powers, or being cured at any point. And I couldn’t help thinking, as I read all this, “have you considered realistic fiction?” Which on the one hand is a bit dismissive—just because fantasy contains unrealistic elements doesn’t mean all elements of any given work should be unrealistic—but on the other, she actually writes, “As a disabled woman, I don’t know what it means to have your body represented onscreen in a way that isn’t somehow tied to magic.” Which suggests an extremely narrow range of media exposure. Since we’re going beyond fairy tales, I can think of a lot of fantasy fiction including disabled protagonists whose disabilities aren’t tied to magic—of books I’ve actually read (search for recommendation threads online and you’ll see many more), there’s
A Game of Thrones,
The Mirror Empire, and
Flame of Sevenwaters, for instance. So I think a lot of the type of storytelling Leduc is seeking already exists, though she evidently hasn’t found it.
And just as the book seems to choose the media it engages with somewhat arbitrarily, its notion of “disability” is idiosyncratic, if broad. It includes physical, mental and cognitive disabilities; disfigurement, including scars; lack of physical attractiveness; and being turned into an animal, monster, etc. There’s logical connection among these, as all relate to having a body that diverges from the societal ideal, and it fits to engage here with the many ways imperfect bodies are used as shorthand for villainy in fiction. (This is so common with facial differences that
a UK group actually started a campaign called “I Am Not Your Villain.”) That said, I question some of her examples—she takes major issue with Scar in the Lion King for instance, whereas to me, a scar that might have been gained in a fight seems like a fairly legitimate way to communicate a villain’s toughness visually, with other types of disfigurement being much more egregious. Meanwhile, in the mental health chapter she suggests that it’s too easy to map personality disorders onto villains. But personality disorders, to my understanding, aren’t actual illnesses so much as descriptions of patterns of behavior seen as disruptive or antisocial (medicalized for purposes of receiving therapy to change them)—and what is a villain if not disruptive and antisocial? There are stronger points to be made here, such as that Disney is apparently more likely to represent an evil old lady with a cane than a good old lady with one.
But the biggest issue that troubles me with this vein of criticism is the “disabilities shouldn’t be healed in fantasy” argument, which Leduc endorses. Certainly, I see the issues with stories implying that only people with perfect bodies can be happy, or that if you have a disability, you must deserve it (or you aren’t working hard enough to “overcome” it). That said, I think Leduc goes much too far in claiming to speak for people with disabilities generally and then arguing that they don’t want their disabilities cured, they just want greater accessibility.
This is a complicated issue, and I suspect a more accurate summation would be, “Many people with disabilities are realistic about the fact that they aren’t likely to be cured, and find that other people’s behavior and lack of accessibility can make living with a disability much harder than it needs to be and in some cases is worse than the disability itself. Therefore, people with disabilities may find it offensive when able-bodied people focus on potential cures while overlooking issues of inclusion. Also, some people—especially those who were born with their disabilities and consider them part of their identities [for instance, members of the Deaf community, some people with autism, etc.]—do not want to change this part of themselves.” The author doesn’t take this more nuanced approach however, seeming to lump everyone together in her insistence that disabilities are barely a medical issue at all and should be embraced as is. Given that the preponderance of disabilities are acquired with aging and an awful lot of disability involves issues nobody wants—pain, fatigue, depression—I suspect this is an area where activists don’t represent the majority. Even from the author’s story, while after decades of struggle she seems to have come to terms with her limp, I don’t get the sense she’d necessarily reject magical healing if it existed (she really wants to wear high heels).
But I’ve seen authors do contortions to avoid exactly that. Take
Flame of Sevenwaters for instance (I’m about to partly spoil it but it isn’t a great book). The novel features a teenage girl, Maeve, whose hands were severely burned in a fire when she was about 10, such that she can no longer use her fingers. She goes on an unrelated quest, and the fae ultimately offer to repair her hands. Maeve refuses, because “it would be too easy.” Um. Too easy for our current world perhaps, but just another treatment option in hers, and people typically view “easy” as a major plus in treatment options. It comes across as an author forcing an inorganic and unbelievable choice on a character to forestall reader criticism. Storytellers should of course respect their audience, but they should respect the integrity of their story too, and if you’ve created a world and a plot where this is a possibility (which is by no means true of all fantasy) maybe you need to let it happen—just because the real world isn’t so easy doesn’t automatically make something offensive. Plenty of fantasy elements are out of reach in the real world (her disability isn’t actually why Leduc isn’t a princess, after all. Money and power, however, are easily come by in fantasy).
There’s also a bit of goalpost-shifting in pursuit of criticism. For instance, Leduc takes being an ogre as a metaphor for disability, but is nevertheless displeased with the happy ending of Shrek, in which Fiona embraces her ogre form, because she needs Shrek to tell her she’s beautiful. Look, beauty is in the eye of the beholder—which is another way of saying that beauty is socially defined. Everyone needs to be told that they’re beautiful. It’s just that the closer someone is to their society’s ideal, the more they’ve picked up that message already and so may not need to hear it from their current love interest. Fiona has never had anyone react positively to her ogre form, so of course she needs to hear it, and I don’t see how this takes away from the ending. Leduc also seems to take issue with the whole notion of a happy ending, because not everyone’s life trends toward happiness—which is fair, but muddled since she also wants disabled characters to get them.
All that said, I did appreciate the book; considering issues of representation is worthwhile even if you don’t agree with everything a particular activist says, and it’s important to listen to different voices. This book didn’t convince me on every point, but the writing is good, it doesn’t take long to read, and I enjoyed the memoir sections. Probably most eye-opening for those new to disability criticism, to whom it should prove accessible. -
A brilliant young critic named Amanda Leduc explores this pernicious power of language in her new book, “Disfigured.” Her focus is fairy tales, those make-believe stories gathered hundreds of years ago in the forests of France and Germany, pruned to satisfy the tastes of Victorian audiences and finally polished to a high sheen by Walt Disney. They are, of course, just stories — in the same way the R-word is just a word.
Leduc follows the bread crumbs back into her original experience with fairy tales — and then explores their residual effects. Her daring approach is a hybrid of memoir, literary criticism and cultural commentary. She moves fluidly between grade-school memories and scholarly analysis. She quotes from medieval texts and TV shows. She’s equally familiar with the Brothers Grimm and the X-Men.
As a child, Leduc’s imagination was led into the magical land of beautiful princesses and princes. Like kids everywhere, she learned that good people are beautiful or, after some hardship, become beautiful, while wicked people are mad, scarred or disabled. Such are the universal narratives from which most of us construct our first aesthetics, our fantasies, even our. . . .
To read the rest of this review, go to The Washington Post:
https://www.washingtonpost.com/entert... -
i don't typically give star ratings to autobiographies/memoirs that i have mixed feelings about; to be clear, my rating for this book doesn't reflect how i feel about the author's personal disclosures. in fact, i related a lot to what she shared - particularly as someone who grew up in canada around the same time and who also has a condition affecting her leg. reading about the author's personal experiences was deeply affirming for me. moreover, i think it's so incredibly important to have more books published by and about disabled creators - books about justice, representation, and community and the role of storytelling across each of these areas.
that being said, i was disappointed with my overall experience with disfigured :( i think i was expecting a deeper (or clearer, or more groundbreaking) analysis of the thematic material, as the book itself comes across somewhat haphazard, disjointed, and repetitive to the point of feeling hazy or superficial - particularly in the moments when a random paragraph would be thrown in about a specific anecdote or statistic that, to me, wasn't clearly connected to what was just being discussed. i also felt weird about pocahontas being named as an Indigenous disney princess (and heralded as an icon of Indigenous representation in the franchise) without discussion or even mention of how problematic her disney story is.
lastly, i can't believe there were explicit, non-tagged, MAJOR spoilers for the game of thrones ending! i've worked so hard to keep away from spoilers, and they were just thrown into this book casually and without warning - it was maddening and disappointing. for anyone who doesn't want to read spoilers, i'd recommend avoiding the end of chapter 7 and also the afterword. -
I loved the message about how disabled people don't dream of magically becoming abled but of a world that focuses on accessibility, and it was interesting to hear about how better accessibility is often hindered by "movements" that don't actually help change things for everyone, but only for a select few, which reassures the public that nothing else needs to be changed.
The personal connection to Leduc's experiences and stories from other disabled people she knew were much more compelling than the rest of this book, and I wish there had been less in here about trying to fit her story exactly to that of the Little Mermaid's. Ariel "finds her land legs" pretty quickly after leaving the sea and prior to this, she has a body that fits in with the rest of the community she lives with. It's a much stronger case to point out that Ariel is mute for half of the story and treated as lesser than (esp. in the original tale) for it. There's a vast difference in what the Little Mermaid experiences depending on if we're talking about the original Hans Christian Anderson tale or the prettied-up Disney one. Leduc flip flops on if Ariel/the Little Mermaid is like Leduc (because the original story has her walking on legs with the pain of walking on sharp knives with every step), or is the model of what all the little girls wanted to be but Leduc could never be, or if there are absolutely no princesses with any disabilities.... and no firm stance was taken in the end, so it didn't drive the point home, especially because the author referred to both the original and remake in bursts that felt hurried and less thought-out than is needed. With a little more polish and focus, this could've been a lot more powerful, but it felt very jumbled as it was.
More things: Leduc spends an entire chapter gushing over Kate Middleton, which has aged so poorly given current events. I also don't know why it was necessary to include because Leduc just tells you how badly she wants to be Kate Middleton and marry Prince William, but doesn't really say anything else about her to tie back to her message.
I think this ultimately would be more interesting for folks who have not really examined the way stories we're told when we're younger are packed with messages that tend to punish women, disabled, ugly, fat, and coded-as-queer characters. It's fun to think of the alternate stories that warp the tales we're used to into something more interesting by following the "bad guy" and then seeing how immediately disadvantaged they may be (usually leading to a far more tragic tale). Take the case of Wicked and Twisted: the Untold Story of a Royal Vizier-- both cast the villains of their respective stories as the good guys, who just happen to be shunned by others for being "ugly." These stories give their audience a chance to reexamine the plot from another perspective, to see how truly unfair things may be and how often society will create a monster from an innocent to fit their narrative of "beauty = good and ugly = evil." This is an especially awful way of thinking when our own society has dictated for countless years that beauty is decidedly not synonymous with so many qualities that minorities have and this book is meant to mostly examine that as it relates to disabilities.
While some of what Leduc does here works well, the message is very muddled given that she seems to conflate disability with any and all disadvantages/pecularities fairy tale characters have such as "Jafar has thin features compared to everyone else," "Scar has a scar," "the Beast's form [is hairy]," and "Princess Fiona is an ogre." While there certainly is overlap in the ways these characters are rejected by society, they are NOT disabilities and actively work against Leduc's argument. The Grimm's fairy tale portion of the book functions a lot better at pointing to direct examples of how magically healing from disabilities and being punished by "receiving a disability" is a predictable end goal of these stories-- think Grimm's original Cinderella (in which the ugly stepsisters become blind because they are "evil") or Rapunzel (wherein the prince becomes blind but is healed by Rapunzel's magical tears). This weaves the gross narrative that good people are never disabled, or never disabled for long, and the evil people "deserve" their disabilities. But in the cases where this idea is subverted, Leduc isn't satisfied.
When Princess Fiona (surprise!) stays an ogre at the end of Shrek and says "I'm supposed to be beautiful," and Shrek affirms that she is, Leduc is not satisfied that Fiona needed a man's approval to consider herself beautiful. Okay....? But how does that relate back to the thesis? It's one of the very rare instances when Leduc points out that fairy tale women tend to look to men for validation. But this should serve her argument, given how taken she is with the idea of romantic love being the ultimate goal of all stories, proving disfigured people are worthy of love from people who do not see them as "other" for this disfigurement. (Again, being an ogre is not a disability.) And don't forget about the Cinderella sequel that has one of the evil stepsisters change her ways and find love! If we're taking "ugliness" as a synonym or metaphor for disability, that stepsister became a good person, but didn't physically change, but that's not mentioned at all in this book. It seems like Leduc cherry-picked examples to fit her narrative. She could've dug a lot deeper or made clear why these instances were not good enough.
I obviously have to have a little beef with what the author says about the Hunchback of Notre Dame. First off-- it's true, there needs to be way more representation in films and stories that are about disabled people getting happy endings and NOT being the villains. However, it's clear Leduc is sad that other kids have a variety of princesses to see themselves in (absolutely no mention of the problematic nature of Disney Princess Pocahontas, who is only mentioned by Leduc as a model for Indigenous little girls to look up to. Yikes.) but she is disgusted that she only has Quasimodo, whose movie she refers to as pity porn. Leduc argues that because he doesn't get a love interest, it's all null and void, and I think that's absolutely false. She says it's okay Brave's Merida doesn't get a love interest in the end because she didn't want one, but clearly is stuck on the idea that romance is the end all be all of these stories. It's not.
Let's be real... the whimsy of Disney princess movies revolve around their cute, fantastical stories that call back to Grimm-style fairy tales-- they're not realistic at all, a boy and girl meet and instantly fall in love, they mainly involve a weird moral where women get punished for existing, evil is defeated, and everything turns out great in the end because magic. In other words, they're fun and sometimes interesting, but anyone with critical thinking skills today can tell they're not that deep and they're pretty problematic and that's why Shrek exists. Disney tales from Walt's golden years and beyond are not exactly the perfect teaching moments to be showing your kids (and we didn't even get to my issues with Frozen 2's race war) and part of that is because they so heavily rely on the main character finding romance with a royal that will fix all their problems.
Now, I don't know if it's just a Victor Hugo thing or not, but yeah... it's a sad fucking story. It doesn't fit the usual Disney theme. And Quasi doesn't exactly "get the girl" in the end. The original is absolutely heart-breaking, with far more abuse and death than we see in the Disney film. But the point of the story is to point out the injustices that Quasi faced for being different and how those harmful ideas are passed down from institutions like the church, that shape the minds of the community not only about the disabled but also about poc (which... was kind of the point of Leduc's book, if I recall???). In the Disney film, the same message persists (albeit with a FAR happier ending) and we see him finding happiness alongside friends who love him and a community who has come to realize that disfigurement isn't a measure of a person's worth or goodness (again??? the point of the book????). I'm convinced Leduc didn't really watch or read the Hunchback of Notre Dame, given how little she says about it compared to the numerous other Disney tales she rips apart (as she should). If she had done so, I would've accepted, say, criticisms of the infantilization of Quasi's character as a valid dissection, but this is weak sauce.
Yes, we show Disney movies to kids to teach them about the world and yes, we should think about what we're putting in these movies knowing they will shape the minds of future generations. Engaging with books, movies, and media that have complexities and don't follow the usual hero's journey should be encouraged because it can be worthwhile and expands your understanding of the story. But if you're taking a face-value message like "Quasimodo is disabled and mistreated and therefore disabled people ought to be mistreated" away from this masterpiece of a film, I have news for you.
Even if the straight-to-DVD sequel where Quasi does find romantic love didn't exist (which... let's be real... it shouldn't; it was poor quality and diminished a lot of the worldbuilding and atmosphere from the original film, but I appreciate the filmmakers giving Quasi a chance at love without the distress of a race war breaking out), the story does not exist for Quasimodo to find romance. As a character, he is, for the first time, able to find his own worth and open his heart to all of the magnificent experiences he never got to have before. Part of that includes him falling in love (although he has a less than healthy understanding of it given his own mistreatment), but he still maintains that beautiful thread of love between himself and Esmeralda, which soon encompasses even more people. Can platonic love never be considered as worthwhile as romantic love? And would it make sense for Quasimodo to help rescue a refugee, escape his own dark prison, help rescue a soldier, escape another prison while the entire city is burning, lead a revolution, rescue the refugee from being burned for being a witch but actually just for refusing a man's advances, take down the most evil villain in all of Disney's history, become a town legend, find acceptance in himself, declare his personhood after years of abuse, earn loyal friends--ALL IN THE SPAN OF THREE DAYS-- and sit wishing by the wishing well that one day his princess will come a la Snow White? THERE'S A WAR. THERE'S TRAUMA. THERE ARE IDENTITY POLITICS AND SELF-DISCOVERY. AND DID I MENTION THE WAR??? THREE DAYS???? The Hunchback of Notre Dame has far more lessons to teach than "be good, get love," like every other Disney story.
All this to say, yes, I would love to see more disabled main characters in Disney films and movies in general, which are not focused on "fixing" anyone, but please don't ever come for my favorite movie with a weak ass argument like that ever again.
And last of all, and most unforgivable.............
LEDUC SPOILS TWO HUGE MOMENTS IN GAME OF THRONES WITHOUT WARNING IN ORDER TO PROVE A POINT THAT WAS NOT MADE WELL. THERE IS NO REASON YOU NEED TO BE OUT HERE SPOILING A SHOW WHOSE FINALE HAS AIRED NOT TWO YEARS PRIOR TO TODAY AND NOT ONE YEAR BEFORE YOU PUBLISHED THIS BOOK. ABSOLUTELY UNFORGIVABLE. GAME OF THRONES ISN'T EVEN A FUCKING FAIRY TALE. THERE WAS ABSOLUTELY NO EXCUSE TO INCLUDE THAT.
IN CONCLUSION, I'm really fucking mad about that GoT spoiler and deducting a full star for that, bringing us to a 2.5. -
Damn, this book will make you think long and deep about the fairy tales we internalized as kids. Once you think about it, the connection between disability and fairy tale is so obviously there, but since so many of us started watching/reading/hearing these tales in our youth we accepted major themes as truth. Only certain beautiful princesses or maidens were worthy of a happy ending. Disfigurement meant you were deceitful and/or a villain. If you were ugly or beastly (beauty and the beast/ the ugly duckling) you had to go through a trial to prove you were worthy of being beautiful. Unless you were the hunchback of Notre Dame; a good guy; but his looks made him unfit for love. Chapters tied in with the authors personal story of learning to live with other's perceptions of her and understand her own disability through her lens and not the worlds. Extremely eye opening and sure to be a great conversation starter. From Disney to superheros to Game of Thrones to Grimm; all angles are covered. As an able-bodied person; this really made me think long and hard about how I need to continually be making space for others with different needs then my own. A fascinating book!
-
QUE LEITURA INCRIVEL!! o livro fala sobre capacitismo em contos de fadas e em como as historias que contamos importam e influenciam a sociedade.
É falado sobre a pequena seria, os anões da branca de neve, a fera de a bela e a fera, o scar do rei leao e em como em varias narrativas de contos de fadas tem um tantão de capacitismo no meio se vc olhar a fundo.
um gostinho do livro:
"A campanha "Não sou seu Vilão" foi lançada em 2018 no Reino Unido, organizada pela Changing Faces, uma organizaçao de caridade que tem o objetivo de aumentar a conscientização sobre o uso de cicatrizes, desfiguramento e diferenças faciais como atalho para criaçao de vilões em filmes e séries. É só pensar no Scar de O rei leão, Coringa e Duas Caras do Batman, o Caveira Vermelha do filme do Capitão America, Doutora Veneno do filme da Mulher Maravilha de 2017, os vilões da franquia James Bond do Daniel Craig (3 dos 4 viloes do Bond tem algum tipo de cicatriz ou deformaçao facial). Darth Vader, Scarface, Freddy Krueger, Deadpool, Snake Eyes da franquia G.I Joe, Gregor e Sandor Cleage de Game of Thrones, Leatherface, Voldemort..." (ate traduzi esse trecho pq PQP É MT REAL ISSO)
"why the disfigured body has historically been seen as less than whole; why fairy tales, narratives so often associated with seeming empowerment, have provided a breeding ground for anti-disability narrative"
"Give me stories where disability is synonymous with a different way of seeing the world and a recognition that the world can itself grow as a result of this viewpoint." -
2023 reads: 3/350
this book discusses how fairytales perpetuate ableist views. from belle marrying the beast out of pity just to be “rewarded” with a handsome prince in the original tale to the villain in the lion king being named after his facial deformity, ableism is something that unfortunately runs rampant in fairytales, which of course affects our societal beliefs. due to the author’s experiences, this book mainly focuses on western fairytales. while i thought these discussions were interesting (and, as a western reader, relatable), i’d definitely be interested in reading something similar to this with a focus on non-western cultures just to see how they differ and how they’re similar. i highly recommend this book! -
One aspect of this book is a memoir of Amanda Leduc, her experience of disability and the influence of fairy tales on her and on society in general. The other is analysis of particular fairy tales and popular culture as they relate to disability. The concept for this book is potentially wonderful, but it needs more organization. Also, as someone who has read academic texts I am accustomed to a certain amount of redundancy, but the repetition in Disfigured is excessive. It could have used more rigorous editing.
There were times when I thought that Leduc's fairy tale analysis was a revelation, but others when it felt myopic.
Leduc tells us that she wants different stories that affirm those living with a disability. I look for stories like that too. Maybe Leduc will write, or has written such stories. -
very necessary read
-
via my blog:
https://bookstalkerblog.wordpress.com/
'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 -
This was a very interesting book. I didn't agree with a lot of it, but it was a fascinating perspective. Here's an example of something I both found fascinating and also disagreed with:
One of the primary ways disabled exclusion operates is through language: our tendency to associate disability and disabled characteristics with weakness and inferiority influences the metaphors we choose and the words we use. Disabilities and conditions are co-opted for use as the ableist labels and descriptors that pervade our ways of speaking. An unpredictable person is jokingly referred to as schizo; someone with mental illness is mental, bonkers, bat-shit crazy. Something (or someone) that disappoints is said to be lame.
As a disclaimer, I'm, as Amanda Leduc would say, bat-shit crazy, doctor's note-certified and all; I don't typically discuss my own disabilities, but rest assure that they are both physical and mental. Anyway, I don't entirely agree with this! I think it predicates on the belief that having a disability—physical, mental, whatever—is not inherently a bad thing, which is a compelling perspective, particularly for someone who seeks to be acknowledged as a complete human being while also being disabled. Calling something lame (Old English lama "crippled, lame; paralytic, weak," from Proto-Germanic *lama- "weak-limbed"—source also of Old Norse lami "lame, maimed," Dutch and Old Frisian lam, German lahm "lame"— lit. "broken," from PIE root *lem- "to break; broken," with derivatives meaning "crippled" (source also of Old Church Slavonic lomiti "to break," Lithuanian luomas "lame") as a slang term might not be the kindest of things to do if your friend is walking with crutches, sure, but I do think it's entirely possible to believe that disabled people are just as worthy of personhood AND acknowledge that being disabled sucks.
People are confined to wheelchairs; they succumb to long illnesses, as though the strength required to fight said illness can’t be mustered and giving in is somehow a choice; people who are ignorant of an issue are blind to it. Someone who isn’t paying enough attention to the insensitivity of their language is tone-deaf. Bit by bit, the language we use reinforces the idea of disability as a thing of weakness, making the disabled person into someone weak, someone less. […]
When you are taught that the disabled body is bad, when you use language that reinforces this viewpoint—even and perhaps especially when you use that language unconsciously, without considering what it might mean to speak of someone’s lived reality as a metaphor for a difficulty in your own life, or when you use this language to reinforce the idea, however well-intentioned, that the disabled person can and should rise above their physical limitations—you participate in a world that seeks to further entrench disabled exclusion.
Being blind means that you can't see the way sighted people can: hence someone who can't "see" something obvious is "blind." Something disappointing, like a racehorse with a sprained ankle would be, is "lame." Something out of the ordinary, atypical, or outside expected parameters is "crazy." Someone who says or does something ridiculous is "insane." Again, all of this is predicated on the assumption that having any of these afflictions (blindness, physical disability, serious mental illness, etc.) is not any of the above definitions: resulting in an incapability to see something obvious; physically unable to move about as is typical; saying or doing something that a sane person would not reasonably say or do. Being blind is undesirable to most people! Being unable to walk without mobility aids is undesirable to most people! That doesn't mean that any of these conditions should strip the afflicted of their personhood or rights, OBVIOUSLY, but these things are not things most people want to experience, and I don't think THAT is a real problem.
I do agree that saying "confined" to a wheelchair or "succumbing" to an illness can be and in fact often is insensitive; however, if a normally physically fit person breaks an ankle and has to use a wheelchair for a month while healing, I think it would be perfectly reasonable for that person to say they've been confined to a wheelchair, because that is in fact what has happened. It would probably be in poor taste to complain in the presence of your wheelchair-bound friend who won't ever be able to walk, obviously.
Nothing about being disabled has been good for me, physical or mental or any combination thereof. If I could get rid of my own disabilities, I would in an instant, without a second thought. I recognise that this is not a universal opinion in the "community"; this is only my opinion, and hey, if you don't agree, you can just write it off as the ramblings of some addled idiot. But I still don't think that policing the language used in everyday speech in this manner is more important than advancing disability rights for actual disabled people—in short, limiting options (linguistically) should not be more important than expanding options (literally) for everyone. Preventing your able-bodied friend from saying that was lame is not more important than providing wheelchair ramps at hospitals, is what I'm saying.
Also there's a difference between actual ableist slurs and language of this type. -
4.5 ⭐
-
Please take a minute of your time to read some very important food for thought below.
Representation matters. Accessibility matters. Consider your actions and your words. If someone refers to a disabled person as not being 'normal' or 'regular', call them out. Who cares if it makes it awkward? This is how things shift. Someone is not less than if they are disabled, so they should not live in a society where they are spoken to and treated to as if they are.
• We exist in an able-ist world, where happiness is associated with not being disabled. The ‘problem’ is ‘fixed’ when the hero becomes able-bodied again. This conditions us from the beginning that having a disability is a weakness and must be overcome.
• Discussing one person’s ability to ‘overcome’ their disabilities puts disabled people in a competition with each other. Everyone is in a different situation, and not all disabilities can be ‘overcome’, which just further makes someone feel less than. Are disabled people who are unable to compete in the Paralympics less than the ones who can? Of course not.
• Society cannot imagine a world where someone is happy with a disability, so they focus on curing it. But what about creating a society where your worth is not determined by your productivity or ‘output’?
• So many ‘bad characters’ have physical disfigurements, outside of fairy tales as well. The Joker. Voldemort. Darth Vader. Most villains in Bond movies. Al Pacino in Scarface. Most horror movies. The “I am not your villain” campaign in Britain was the first organization to announce they are no longer funding films where villains have facial disfigurements or scarring.
I listened to this, which was the only reason I finished it, but I think it missed the mark. Although the author stated how it was not meant as a scholarly piece of work, it would have benefitted from a more concise, analytical approach. This could have been an informative article instead of a repetitive, drawn out book. It is a shame because there are several very important ideas here, but it gets swallowed by the repetition and by the memoir aspects of the author's life. -
A fascinating and eye-opening exploration of the connection between fairytales and disability. Amanda LeDuc did an excellent job of compiling a tremendous amount of information into a compulsively readable, concise, and understandable format.
Disability and mental illness are so often vilified in the stories we consume; used as shorthand to indicate that someone is unworthy or wicked. A trope in lazy writing that directly correlates with how disabled and mentally ill people are treated in their day-to-day lives.
How does it feel for a young person consuming media such as The Little Mermaid to see themselves represented in a way they never had, only to find that the heroine is magically cured of her "ailments" and gets her happy ending as an able-bodied woman, with legs and a voice.
How does this reinforcement of the idea that a happy ending is inextricably linked with able bodiedness impact our preconceived notions and biases as we grow up?
This is a world-view shifting book that everyone should read.
Trigger/Content Warnings: ableism, stillbirth, bullying, depression, suicidal ideation, chronic illness, sexual assault, violence, medical content, body horror
VIDEO REVIEW:
https://youtu.be/Z6jPExstT1Y
You can find me on...
Youtube |
Instagram |
Twitter|
TikTok -
Oh. My. God. This book. 🙌🏼😭
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 don't even know how to begin writing my blog review because there's just so much to absorb and to unpack.
I had requested the e-galley for review because I've been trying to reduce my physical book collection, but literally a few pages in, I regretted that decision. There was so much in this I wanted to highlight, so much I wanted to scribble notes on, and alas Overdrive wouldn't let me mark up the e-galley. (Hence all my Goodreads updates, and my apologies to anyone who saw much more of me in the last 24 hours than in forever.)
It's been a while since a book has affected me this much, and I can only imagine its impact on disabled readers. This book is out in February -- read it. -
Disability Readathon 2021
Narrated by Amanda Barker
8h 17 min
"Disfigured" by Amanda Leduc is a book that I had been wanting to read since last year and I was so happy when I randomly come across the audiobook through Storytel. ''Disfigured'' is a memoir but it also has an academic approach which makes it top notch. Amanda Leduc explores how disability has been portrayed in (western) fairy tales and the influence on society especially children.
A princess in a wheelchair would have trouble finding those blackberries, I thought as I crept through the bushes. And then I stopped, briefly, and smiled. A princess in a wheelchair? Whoever heard of such a thing?
When I say this book made me think, I mean it! From Disney princess movies to Grimms fairy tales, disability has always been depicted as something that needs to be cured to get a happy ending. As an able bodied woman, this was eye opening and thought prvoking. Highly recommend checking out this book! -
Disfigured: On Fairy Tales, Disability and Making Space by Amanda Leduc is an excellent look into how disabled people have been portrayed in fairy tales and how that influences peoples perception of disabilities. It delves into old fairy tales, such as Grimms’ Fairy Tales, to the newer versions of Disney. The themes of the fairy tales are then related to real life and how disabled people are treated by the society. In addition, we get to see the author’s experiences growing up with cerebral palsy.
Disabilities have generally been seen in fairy tales in two character tropes. Either the villain has a disability, which makes them “bad” or the hero/heroine “overcomes” their disability through their good character and perseverance. The disabled body is always seen as less and weaker than that of the abled body, and as such, being able bodied is equated with happiness. There are a lot of examples in the book about ableism in fairy tales, such as the Little Mermaid, but I found the ways she transferred those concepts into real life very interesting.
“The society does not change in fairy tales. The transformation is individual, not systematic.”
This quote hit me hard because it is so real. There is a lot of discussion how, in fairy tales and real life, disabled people are championed to overcome their disability. The society is never interested in becoming more accessible to disabled people. The recovery (or in fairy tales, the completion of the quest) is always on the individual, and never in the role of the community to offer help.
“If you look up the criteria of any personality disorder, they pretty much pathologize any behavior which is not considered socially acceptable.”
I also liked that the book discusses that disabled POC are even more marginalized. The disability discussions need to be more intersectional. The fairy tales always teach us to climb to the top of the social hierarchy, rather than dismantling the social order. The current social order is so obsessed with productivity, and when you’re productive, you’re worthy. This applies to both disabled and able bodied people, but usually the productivity society is in no way accessible to disabled people.
The book discusses all of these in much better way than this review, so I would highly recommend picking this up -
While I found this to be an interesting read, there were major issues with this work. The most striking one being that the marketing is completely wrong. This story has barely anything to do with how fairytales shape able-bodied persons views of the disabled. This is mostly a memoir, where the author then attempts to interweave medical definitions and various histories of fairytales, Disney portrayals, and superheroes. Yet the story was not cohesive, and the scope of what the author was trying to examine was too broad. I have no clue what the takeaways were supposed to be from this work because - as a history of disability in fairytales - this is not a credible analysis or even an understandable narrative. One of the most frustrating parts of this overall was the analysis of the Grimm Brothers. I studied German literature - specifically Grimm's fairytales – through much of my time in university and the author’s analyses of the stories were a surface level examination. Furthermore, the rants the author would go on were often simply about what to diagnose the characters with rather than an in-depth analysis of why things were problematic, or a deconstruction of stories and representation. My final gripe about the Grimm’s section is that if you are going to write about German translation, you need to clarify where you are getting these translations. If you are having someone else narrate the audiobook, make sure that the narrator is correctly pronouncing the German words that you chose to include. The pronunciation was horrendous in this and one particular translation was inaccurate. Later in the work, there is also the inclusion of a random element from a popular television show that completely spoiled the series finale. This part of the story was unnecessary, as she was attempting to argue the character had a mental illness when this was not at all what was expressed within the show. There were many more subjects discussed to this, but the story jumped back and forth constantly. Topics were broken up throughout the book and revisited at times that made no sense and I cannot even begin to describe how confusing that made the memoir aspect. Overall, this was a frustrating read. There were at least 2-3 sections where I enjoyed the author’s discussion of a particular experience, or how representation affected her. I think that there definitely needs to be more positive disability representation and more ownvoices within that representation. However, this was not marketed as a memoir and it honestly isn’t really a memoir – I don’t know what to consider this at all.
-
I am totally embarrassed by the fact that although I have taught English to speakers of other languages for over thirty years, it is only in that last few that I really realized that the ‘disabled’, those with psychiatric problems, the homeless, and anyone outside of narrow specifications of ‘normalcy’ are not to be found in any of the text books. This has led to a more general interest in the in how the ‘different’ are dealt with in stories, and that general interest brought me to this book. ‘Disfigured’ takes in the world of fairy tales and the way that the those of difference are portrayed, how happy ever after is often only for the beautiful, or involves a miraculous spell that rids one of her disability, and how ugliness and old age are so often linked with evil. I promise that if you read it you will become aware of things you never really considered, so read it. Having said all that and despite all the good things about it, the book is really a bit of a mess. It never really knows where it is going and changes direction often and suddenly . In one part we find out about the authors ‘disability’, then there is some talk of fairy stories, and some talk of a crush she had at school that never worked out, presumably because she was not ‘normal’. I didn’t quite buy into that having had lots of failed crushes with nothing to blame them on but my lack of good looks and insipid personality. Most infuriating is the time spent on how she felt Kate Middleton was such a wonderful princess and how beautiful Megan Markle looked in her wedding dress. I was only half way through when I realized why the book had such an odd and unfocused title. My guess is that the book needed and didn’t get a strong editor to pull this all together and keep it on track. Please read it, and please let’s try to get rid of terms like disfigured, disabled, disadvantaged, and started realizing that it is difference that makes the world beautiful. Buy this book and embrace that thought.
-
i understand why disney & marvel/superheroes were touched on but aside from the author's exploring her identification with the little mermaid, i found those parts much less interesting than the discussions of early fairytale stories. i liked the personal essay aspect (especially the final chapter and afterward) but i think i expected this to focus more on literary evolution of fantasy/fairytales - imo the way disney has informed the public consciousness of beauty, race, body types, identity as well as the capitalist/imperialist aspect is a complicated subject better suited for an entirely separate book. still really worth reading, more than someone looking for fairytale analysis, i think this would be a good starting point for someone who hasn't thought much about how disabilities are perceived, the lived experience/inner thoughts of disabled people, the way our biases are changed or confirmed by things as mundane and obvious as the way public spaces are constructed (ie-if there were wheelchair ramps everywhere would someone who couldn't walk really be "disabled"?), and how these perceptions relate to the expectation that humans are only worthwhile as long as they are capable of producing work of monetary value. even if you think you aren't in any way prejudiced there is always more to learn.
-
3/5 stars
Perhaps a bit of an unpopular opinion, but I didn't relate to this book as much as I wanted to. I absolutely loved the idea of it, but I feel the execution could have been a bit more polished and definitely had some issues. Mainly repetitiveness, oversimplification, but also a narrative tone that may come off as preachy to some, and antagonize some parties that are integral in the discussion surrounding disability.
It's important to recognize that LeDuc describes her experiences with disability and her opinion on it, and it's only natural that my experiences and my opinion will differ from hers, as my body and life are different in their (dis)abilities. It's still something I'd love to open a discussion on, so full lengthy review and discussion to follow... -
i am someone that is chronically ill, and most people would never know because i happen to have something often referred to as an “invisible illness.” i experience extreme amounts of fatigue and brain fog if i over exert myself physically, mentally, or emotionally and this can often result in very painful headaches and naps that last longer than normal. my joints don’t do very well most of the time, either. i spend most of winter feeling very “crunchy” and most of summer swollen and uncomfortable. but despite this, i don’t really require a mobility aid of any kind— though i probably will further into the future.
the author of ‘disfigured,’ amanda leduc, has cerebral palsy and walks with a limp. she had multiple operations as a child that resulted in the necessary use of mobility aids and relentless bullying from other children. in ‘disfigured,’ leduc offers up her own experiences with disability while closely examining the use of disability and disfigurement in fairy tales and disney movies. we learn about the dwarves in snow white, the original version of the little mermaid and all the versions that came after (especially disney’s 1989 adaptation), disney’s live action maleficent, and more.
this book really aims to bring to light how often disability and disfigurement are used as plot devices to portray either truly reprehensible villains or useless characters with no agency in fairytales and folkloric stories. which, spoiler alert, is not just very often but almost always. leduc uses her own experiences, especially in childhood, to show how this negative representation affects the way we see ourselves and how we perceive disabled people.
good, well-written representation in fairy tales is important because most children grow up around them, watching and rewatching and reading and rereading. disney is the most popular media company that consistently adapts fairy tales, and if all of the princesses and heroines are physically ‘perfect’ and all of the villains and schmucks are visibly disabled in some way, then children are bound to view the world this way. children shouldn’t grow up thinking that the only way they can be valuable in society and worthy of love is by being unattainably perfect and able-bodied.
leduc also briefly discusses how, when able-bodied, ‘normal’ people, are faced with physical/visible disability and/or disfigurement vs. mental disability, these people are much more likely to view the physically disabled as human and worthy of basic respect or basic human decency. physical disability can be forgiven because, ultimately, it can’t be the person’s fault. but, if an able-bodied person views a mentally disabled person as ‘stupid’, then the conclusion is drawn that ‘stupid’ is intentional and can’t be helped.
this examination on disability in fairytales and disney movies as explored through the author’s memoir is nuanced and, in my opinion, a very important read. it’s only 250 pages and i got through the audiobook in just a few hours on 1.5x speed and i recommend it to everyone.
