As a young blind girl, Georgina Kleege repeatedly heard the refrain, “Why can’t you be more like Helen Keller?” Kleege’s resentment culminates in her book Blind Letters to Helen Keller , an ingenious examination of the life of this renowned international figure using 21st-century sensibilities. Kleege’s absorption with Keller originated as an angry response to the ideal of a secular saint, which no real blind or deaf person could ever emulate. However, her investigation into the genuine person revealed that a much more complex set of characters and circumstances shaped Keller’s life.
Blind Rage employs an adroit form of creative nonfiction to review the critical junctures in Keller’s life. The simple facts about Helen Keller are how Anne Sullivan taught her deaf-blind pupil to communicate and learn; her impressive career as a Radcliffe graduate and author; her countless public appearances in various venues, from cinema to vaudeville, to campaigns for the American Foundation for the Blind. But Kleege delves below the surface to question the perfection of this image. Through the device of her letters, she challenges Keller to reveal her actual emotions, the real nature of her long relationship with Sullivan, with Sullivan’s husband, and her brief engagement to Peter Fagan. Kleege’s imaginative dramatization, distinguished by her depiction of Keller’s command of abstract sensations, gradually shifts in perspective from anger to admiration. Blind Rage criticizes the Helen Keller myth for prolonging an unrealistic model for blind people, yet it appreciates the individual who found a practical way to live despite the restrictions of her myth.
A book I should have liked, but really, unreasonably didn't. A blind English professor writes letters to Helen Keller, who is a really uncomfortable figure for the disability community because her "story inscribes the idea that disability is a personal tragedy to be overcome through an individual's fortitude and pluck, rather than a set of cultural practices and assumptions effecting many individuals that could be changed through collective action." Kleege talks about that discomfort, and the assorted favors and damage Keller's narrative did the disability movement by probing some of the difficult unknowns of Keller's life, such as her always-elided sexuality, her socialism, and the persistent claims that she was nothing more than one of those horses that can appear to do math by following trained cues – that she was a fake, because clearly she could not be intelligent. The letter format makes it personal and reflective, and lets Kleege do some interesting work with narratives and points-of-view and the lens of modernity.
And ug, I did not like it, and it was all about the damn letters. Kind of twee, sure, but really it's just that I seem to be allergic to second-person writing these days. Seriously, I was having flashbacks to bad eighties lit fiction, and I was in actuality just reading freaking Dr. Seuss in the eighties. I don't know why I had such a huge problem with the form of this book, because its content was generally good, if not ever surprising to someone in my particular niche of the disability movement.
Just, second-person. For hundreds of pages. Yargh.
This book is such an interesting creative mash-up: part fiction, part literary analysis, part biography, and part cultural commentary, all packaged in letters to a dead woman (who still has a haunting presence). I have a soft spot for innovative works by English professors, and this one gave me a lot to think about.
This is now one of my favorite books. I got it from the library out of curiosity. I've heard the criticisms that Keller was nothing without Anne Sullivan. She was simply trained to parrot some phrases, and cued by fingerspelling to act out specific behaviors. Sure, some of her accomplishments were remarkable, especially in the time and place where she lived. I suppose I can understand how some people might believe all that.
What I hadn't realized was the level of resentment of Keller that's present in the disabled community. Because of her status as a paragon, virginal, selfless, uncomplaining, ever cheerful, she became nearly impossible for most people - regardless of ability - to live up to. It never occurred to me that disabled people were being told "why can't you be more like Helen Keller?" Of course they would resent that. Especially in this modern world where people are freer to speak their minds, where the disabled have more autonomy than before, why shouldn't they complain when things are hard for them? People complain when their latte is too hot; why shouldn't a person complain when they can't access basic necessities?
Anyway, Blind Rage is written by one of the Keller-haters. Georgina Kleege is a writer and college professor, and is also blind. She grew up hearing the comparisons, never feeling that she measured up. She unleashed some of her hostility in a one sided correspondence with Helen. As she did, she researched Keller's life. It wasn't an easy one.
The more she read and the more she wrote, the more Kleege came to understand Helen. To empathize. She doesn't and won't let Keller off the hook for her contribution to the Helen Keller Mythos, but she develops an understanding of where it came from and why.
There are wild leaps of conjecture, including the idea that Helen was most probably molested as a child. Kleege seems pretty convinced. I'm less so. Even with the disagreements, the writing is compelling. I read the book in a day - couldn't go to sleep until I was done. There's an urgency that just wouldn't let me go.
I was blown away by this book. The book does a wonderful job humanizing Helen Keller, and people with disabilities in general. Though there were some points where I cringed as the author spoke directly to a fictionalized Helen Keller, I felt the style of this book was effective in both presenting biographical details in an interesting way and speaking to/interpreting what disability means from the perspective of a blind author. It explores: - what Helen Keller's relationship with Anne Sullivan/her interpreters would have been (and how her experiences and conversations with others would have had to pass through them first) - what fundraising and charity might mean to some people with disabilities (Helen Keller's reluctance to accept a pension from Carnegie, her inspiring other disabled people with her jokes...) - disability rights/ how some people are denied certain access (the author's mentee in a wheelchair, who wants access to the stacks in the library, the idea of Helen Keller/the blind having children) - how Helen Keller would have perceived the world with her remaining senses - how the public was reluctant to think of Helen Keller as a sexual being (John Macy, lesbianism, Peter Fagen's marriage license) - Helen Keller's desires to write and what audiences were willing to read from her/ what agency and individual thought the public was willing to credit her (when it came to her positions on socialism, feminism, etc)
And a lot more that I couldn't just list here. The author largely focuses on The Myth of Helen Keller as the endlessly optimistic saint who could overcome anything, and the book does a good job humanizing her... but I was still left extremely impressed and inspired by Helen Keller (her intellect, her achievements, her humor)
Moments throughout are quite humorous - it's terrible to admit, but I really hadn't imagined Helen Keller making jokes or working in vaudeville before. I also didn't know she worked in Hollywood (in a movie about her called Deliverance). In the Vaudeville scene, she's taking questions from the audience and one man asks if she thinks of marriage- Kleege writes how Keller first looks up and dreamily answers yes, before eagerly looking back down towards the man and saying, "Iz duh gendleman proposing to me?" Or when she's in Hollywood, and placed on a horse for a scene, the horse stomps its foot three times and Helen thinks to say that three stomps means 'open the window'- since the director had been communicating with her through stomps.
an ambiguously unethical and immoral book, but precisely for that reason, all the more necessary. Not in the sense of redressing the balances of autobiography and biography (here Janet Malcolm was right) but necessary for the conceptualisation of the experience of blindness and disability more generally as artificial and mechanised process of acquisition, incessantly and obstinately indexing the symptom that can only ever serve as the traumatic corporeal real (I.E: the persistent void) of the able-bodied. Or as we would say on the street: nothing alien is fake to me.
Once one is able to grasp this, a panorama of seemingly fruitless (and at risk of incurring the wrath of feminists) hysterical) speculations gradually transmute into the authors discovery of the hard rational kernel undergirding the often deleteriously reprehensible mythologies surrounding the condition of blindness. In a way, if this work was not traversing such novel ground, if the territory wasn't so unfamiliar, I would be inclined to subject it to a cholerically remorseless demolition job in order to illuminate the synthesised ethical content that arises once one expels the excrement — really now, professor Kleege, get over her already, most of us blind folk don't give a shit! As things stand, however, this book would be pushing above its weight if it focused on the fact that disability problematises the notion of individual appropriation and ownership, even and especially of one's carcass. Thus, to paraphrase Biggie Smalls: such property as able bodies will be eliminated from the higher organisation of society! Eliminated, that is to say, by ensuring the human species is reconciled to what they must disavow of themselves in the externalisation and alienation of disability in order to uphold their unconscious fantasies of a harmonious and organic society.
This was a tough read. At times it was a breeze, and other times it was like pulling teeth. There are a lot of high points in the book, but enough awkward, borderline obsessive bits of commentary that are too overwhelmingly recurring to ignore.
For example, an entire chapter was devoted to Helen’s sexuality which wasn’t based off much but the author trying to read between the lines. The way the author dug into it was very… strange. It was weird to read her letters hypothesizing that Helen had a sapphic relationship with her teacher, as in… her lifelong teacher, the one who took care of her and had nearly a parental role in her life. It was hard to feel like this book of contrived, projected facts upon Helen Keller’s private life. I get that that may have been the point, but the author’s one-sided correspondence just feels at times infuriating.
That being said, the author is incredible at painting a story and developing her characters. It was insightful and although it’s tough to know how much of the things I’ve learned are fact vs fiction (or an exaggerated half truth?), I feel that I’ve taken quite a lot away about who Helen was.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Don’t read this thinking it’s a history book or even likely to be accurate. This isn’t that book. What it is is a very interesting look into a person’s obsession with a dead famous person due to their disability. It’s easy to see the ways their lives intertwine in the author’s way of thinking, and why this is the case for her. I enjoyed it, even if at times I was thinking “but you have no idea!” It was still really interesting.
Daring format, interesting topic and thoughtful reflections. If you are looking for a biography, then no, this isn't it. This is Kleege's reading of all those other Hellen Keller books, her response to them, the ways in which she fills the gaps left by provable history and facts and comments on Keller's disability from the perspective of her own modern blind experience.
Kleege is really interested in Keller's romantic life, I'm not convinced it is entirely because officially Keller is so asexualized as part of the process of turning her into a saint but that is a decent reason. Although asexuality is real, can you think of a less likely candidate than someone for whom touch is a primary sense? Not to mention that while real, it is also quite rare and being deaf-blind is already a rarity indeed. Kleege's speculations were interesting, then she won me over by suggesting than Keller and Teacher (AKA Anne Sullivan) might have had a romantic relationship (a Boston marriage) and Teacher's own marriage to Macy might have been a cover up for that (or a threeway relationship!). Basically I'm about to start writing them fanfic now, since this feels quite like meta.
Many seem to find the second person narratative tedious, I love it. It's intimate and different, makes you think of the words. It also perfect for the game of 'what ifs' that this book ultimately is (it's reliance on actual facts is not the best, afaik, but that is also not the point).
I really liked the analysis of language (how dare a blind person speak of colours?) and Keller's explanation that no language existed to describe the variety of input she got through touch/smell/taste in the English language, and, if it did, it would not be understood by Normals. As well as the general criticism of abled-bodied people of the supposed capacities of those who lack one or more sense (the author gets corrected when she writes 'I was reading a book' instead of 'I was listening to a book'), I have considered whether it is accurate to use 'read' to refer to audiobooks and concluded that it is (it's actually *harder* for me to listen, tbh).
I really enjoyed this and you should know Hellen Keller's own books are available at Guttenberg Project for free. "The World I Live In" looks great!
I don't have a ton of experience with disability literature, but I read this book for a class I'm taking for grad school, and really enjoyed it. Professor Kleege does an excellent job of interrogating the Helen Keller mythos and offering up a bold and unflinching reimagining of the events of Keller's life. This text definitely deserves more praise.
Blind Rage: an open Letter to Helen Keller, by Georgina Kleege. Borrowed from Library of Congress Library Services for the blind.
This month has definitely been one for amazing books, and this is another one. Georgina Kleege is a blind professor of English and creative writing at Berkeley. She took on the task of writing about Helen Keller, but with a difference. She tried to look beyond the myths about Helen, to analyze things that must have been stressful to Helen. She used all the nonfiction accounts, including those written by Keller, as reference material, and then fictionalized conversations with Helen Keller, really a combining of fiction and nonfiction.
Many blind people, plus people with other disabilities, who have grown up hearing about Helen Keller, her saintliness and cheerfulness, etc. hated her. Georgina began these letters to Helen Keller with that same feeling about her. But as she read about Helen, the biographies about her and the books and journals she wrote about her own life, her feelings changed. This book, based on nonfiction writings, still has the feel of fiction because Georgina is writing a letter to Helen Keller who in 2006 has been dead for almost 40 years. Georgina explores Helen’s life, makes guesses about her feelings at various times, discusses her own feelings as a blind woman, and much much more. This book blew me away!
"But now, I find myself spending endless hours speculating about the truth behind the facts of your life, wondering what really happened. I extrapolate, I read between the lines, I out-and-out fictionalize" (93). Georgina Kleege's Blind Rage is a creative historical non-fiction biography with analysis on real/imagined events, a (day)dream journal, and other musings to and about Helen Keller. Some of the analysis - such as observations on biographers' needs to preserve Keller as virginal and societal acceptance of Kellers' writings as "true" - is interesting. However, reading analysis on speculations, some of which have little founding, was tedious, as was the prose, most of which Kleege writes in second person.
I thought it was a great, thought-provoking book. A bit slow at times (for me, anyway), but overall I loved the read! It made me realize to what extent I myself had been forced to pass as a fully sighted person throughout my childhood. Not being allowed to hold my hand out in front of me so I wouldn't bump into things, being told to watch where I was going (a little hard for a legally blind person), and then not being taught to use a cane all made it seem like it was "better to look sighted". As I gained more independence I found it easier to use a white cane, etc and the problem was forgotten about - but this book made me think about things completely differently. :)
It took a little while to get used to the idea that someone would needle Helen Keller - which is the point - she's such an icon and "national treasure" that she was never allowed to be human - at least in the public eye. Georgina Kleege has done a good job of illustrating what irked her about the fairy tale of Helen Keller and Annie Sullivan.
I hope to read some of the sources Kleege cites as my curiosity has been piqued about the situations Keller dealt with.
A book that uses the conceit of correspondences between the author and HK to examine the latter's mythos and the problems it presents for the former as a contemporary blind woman. I want lots more people to read this.
There aren't enough stars!!!!! This book is warm, engaging, and powerful. Kleege's treatment of Keller is personal but not saccharine. I loved this reading so much!