READING TIME

BY DAN WHITE

This was essential after stumbling across the Netflix documentary, “CripCamp”. Judith’s groundbreaking biography is the honest work of someone who must go down as one of the greatest disability rights activists in history. I am ashamed that up until seeing the movie, I had not heard of Judith’s fight against the discriminatory American political system, especially her rallying call to arms for equality which culminated in a 10-day sit-in in the offices of the San Francisco office of the US Department of Health, Education and Welfare in 1977. This incredible stance which involved a glorious mix of disabilities and ages helped change the landscape for disability rights across the United States.

The book is empowering and the passion for the disability community literally drips from the pages. Judith comes across as gregarious, generous, and shares the credit around. The book is a must for anyone interested in disability history. It’s a rallying call for our children’s generation because it inspires without being inspirational. Beautiful.

I’ve known Penny for many years and if you meet her you will be instantly in love. She is passionate and extraordinary. Penny’s memoir sticks out from other disability life stories in that it is equally frank, funny, and fiercely political. This book is what all life stories should contain, sex, music, parties, and punk! Penny’s writing is brisk and punchy, her life, her words, break many taboos, and why not? Disability doesn’t mean sainthood. Penny has much to say and is brutally honest about it. From the emotional early days which seeded her activism, Penny has provoked and challenged the world around her, challenged it to accept that wheelchair or not, everyone is deserving of a shot and everyone has the right to be expressive. She doesn’t shy away from the occasional terrible moments, and that is imperative as we see her progression from childhood to poet, punk, and the author she is now. Awesome book, witty, different, and fearless.

Ok, you got me, I do pick up and read my daughter’s books when she has finished them. Emily is, like me, a total bookworm, and her howls of laughter whilst reading this book pinged my literary radar. I could have reviewed David Walliams “Slime” but this book, in both our opinions hits the mark better. To start with, Mr. Baddiel has probably unwittingly based his main character, Amy, a wheelchair user, on every disabled child in the UK. By that, I mean fearless, passionate, and a want to do and experience everything every other child does. As a children’s book about disability, it doesn’t preach (thank god) and I could really empathise with the characters. The book is funny, without falling into the trap of most books with disabled characters, the one that makes the character such an inspiration, having to overcome insurmountable odds. Writing about disabled characters to a mainstream audience, especially adults, has always been an exercise most publishers shy away from, for fear of slow sales, but children have a natural non-bias to disability, and it’s here that David proves that disability sells. Of course, there has to be a bit of an inclusion message, but I think the subtlety of that does not take away from the humour and the relationships. Oh, and it has a rocking turbo wheelchair. Where have I seen that before? (Department of Ability?) Nope, can’t think.

Well, if a book ever summed up my life and collective lives across the country, this is it, my favourite read of lockdown. Tender is essentially a story of care and carers. With key workers as the lauded champions of COVID, Penny’s timely released book acts as a tap on the shoulder of society to remind it that carers exist in many forms and many places. Penny has been a carer twice in her lifetime, once to her mother and now to her son. Moving through the reality of what a parent carer does, Penny doesn’t necessarily tell us anything new but creates such a communal empathy that you nod, sigh, and cheer in equal measure. Penny is absolutely and utterly correct in her belief that we, as carers should forget comparisons, ignore pressures, that we are not failing but we are a community that supports each other with guidance and spirit. With stories from families, perspectives, and support mechanisms on our lives from disabled writers and others, this beautiful book is a cathartic necessity, once read never forgotten. This is the book any one of us could have written, but not as beautifully and powerfully as Penny.

Some other excellent works that need mentioning are

People” by Ellen Clifford. Both books are written with fiery passion and tell, in different voices, how disabled people have becorne the brunt of social and stereotypical ignorance from the system. Both works are, as a writer and campaigner myself, necessarily brutal, honest, shocking, and truthful. Both Ellen and Frances expose the cruel politics and real-life stories behind so much oppression and both demand nothing less than utter change. Both books will make you equally angry and passionate, but both need reading and sharing both inside and outside our glorious community if a change is to come.