Quick Look (out of five):
Plot Rating: 0
Character Rating: -
Romance Rating: 1
World-Building Rating: 1
Writing Style Rating: 2
Recommended?: Only if you want to read something with dangerously ableist (discriminatory or prejudiced attitudes towards people with disabilities) depictions that feed into the ways people with disabilities are treated as inferior and undeserving and violent.
I received an Advance Reader Copy of this book from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.
This book made me vibrate with anger. If I did not feel it was my duty to finish this book for you guys so that I could more fully discuss why it is awful, I would have stopped within the first 20 pages. This novel revolves around an extremely dangerous depiction of disability. The two main characters have some kind of physical disability or disfigurement, and their love story is disability inspiration porn at its finest. The villain is described constantly as having a mental disability which causes her to be violent and cruel. At its core, this novel is about an ableist depiction of ‘good’ disability versus ‘bad’ disability. The novel also works extremely hard to cash in on the emotions of a storyline around two disfigured people finding love, without making either character less than traditionally beautiful and functional. All of this is tied up in overarching Christianity that I am not religious enough to untangle. There is so much to unpack, that I will not be doing a traditional “Spoilers” section. Instead, after the analysis of the overall novel, I will delve into the common disability stereotypes in media, the way this novel uses them, and why they are very, very dangerous.
Set in the late Middle Ages, Castle of Refuge follows Audrey, our perfectly beautiful and good heroine. At the start of the novel, Audrey is 15-years-old and her father wants to begin talks to marry her off to Lord Dericott’s son Edwin. However, her older sister Maris, in a fit of jealousy, trips Audrey into a fire. Though left with mild burns, her father decides her marriage prospects are significantly lowered and stops pursuing a match for her. Maris is sent to a convent and four years pass. Audrey, now 19, discovers her father intends to marry her to a knight more than twice her age and that her sister is returning home. Desperate to escape a loveless match and her older sister’s cruelty, Audrey flees. She ends up at Dericott castle, working as a maid to the man she was supposed to marry four years ago.
Audrey does not feel 19-years-old to me, often acting childlike and impulsive. Audrey develops more of a personality as the novel progresses, but in the beginning she is a caricature of the perfect woman. Her ‘personality’ is good, pious, patient, forgiving, unfailingly kind, cheerful, and beautiful – she is the archetype of the patriarchal ‘perfect’ woman in every way. Audrey dreams of doing something to leave a mark on the world, something important and grand, such as teaching girls to read. The longer Audrey is away from the constant fear she experiences around Maris, the more she gains confidence and a personality. Never enough to make her anything less than the ideal woman, though. Audrey’s scars are described as marring one ear and extending the width of two fingers onto her face and are easily hidden with her hair. Audrey’s storyline is clearly supposed to be about someone scarred and considered ugly finding someone who loves her anyways. However, it feels cheapened in too many ways. Audrey’s scars are never described as enough to mar her perfect beauty. Edwin, our romantic interest, thinks to himself how unfair it is that such a beautiful, kind woman has scars, as though scars are only meant for ugly, mean women. That her beauty overcomes them. Not that he does not see them or does not find them ugly, but that she is beautiful enough to compensate for them. It creates the sense that this is the amount of disfiguration that can be overlooked on a woman, that any increased disfigurement being ‘overlooked’ would be too unbelievable. The aim is to craft a character storyline that shows a man who finds a scarred woman beautiful despite her being considered ugly, and falling in love with her personality and scars. What we get is a woman who is conventionally beautiful having a slight ‘issue’ with her appearance overlooked, presented as some kind of inspirational story about broken people falling in love.
Edwin has even less personality than Audrey, somehow. He is 19 at the beginning of the novel, and 23 when Audrey works for him incognito. He recently lost his arm protecting his brothers during their time in the Tower of London after falsely being accused of treason. I was hopeful that the novel would delve into the feelings of loss and the struggle to adapt to a new way of life in a nuanced and realistic way. At first, there are moments that show Edwin struggling with balance and walking much slower than others while he adjusts to having only one arm. However, by the middle of the novel, these moment of Edwin actually experiencing the disability that comes from having one arm in a world designed for people with two vanish. He is suddenly riding his horse at a gallop, when a week ago balancing on a horse walking was difficult. Edwin is wielding his sword with perfect skill, despite the fact that he would need to retrain his body to perform these motions with a different center of balance. We never see Edwin doing the hard work of relearning things he used to take for granted. The only depictions of Edwin’s struggle that remain are his emotional struggles. Edwin regularly thinks of himself as “half a man” who must conquer his weakness and refuses to use a walking stick. This is fine as a starting point during a journey of adaptation, but it only changes when the disabilities that come with one arm vanish from the narrative.
Maris is a disgusting, ableist caricature of mental disability. To start with, the only evidence given by the narrative and the other characters for why Maris is “touched in the head” (one of many terrible euphemisms used in the novel) is that she is violent and cruel. This pulls from the damaging stereotype of those with mental disabilities as inherently dangerous and violent. Maris is presented as evil incarnate. She has no good qualities and is motivated only by hatred and jealousy, the stereotypical cartoon villain. The most disgusting part of Maris’s character is her backstory, which is used to explain away and justify her actions. When Audrey was born, a nursemaid was hired to take care of the children. The nursemaid doted on Audrey and physically abused Maris for three years before her actions were discovered and she was fired. Audrey describes how this experience clearly “altered [Maris’s] mind” and is the root cause of her hatred and anger issues. Physical abuse as a child can cause lasting trauma, but painting this as the reason for Maris’s villainy is awful. It is supposed to make the reader pity Maris, as Audrey does, and create a sense of empathy that dulls the edge of Maris’s cruelty. This depiction of abuse leading to mental disability pulls from multiple dangerous stereotypes about both groups and paints them as deserving of pity and less capable. Further, the novel creates a dichotomy of good and evil with different types of disability depicted as naturally falling to one side or the other. It is the ‘good’ disability of physical disability/disfigurement (Edwin’s lost arm and Audrey’s burns) versus the ‘bad’ disability of mental disability.
Despite being a romance novel, the romantic plotline feels bland. There is never any sense of the characters falling in love. The narrative observes moments where the characters have growing feelings, but in a way that does not feel believable. Audrey is already in love with Edwin by the time she meets him, simply because she saw him once four years ago and was supposed to marry him. There is never any sense of romantic tension when they are together. Other characters comment upon this ‘tension’ but the reader never sees it. We do not see Audrey and Edwin engage in very many serious conversations that bring them closer together. Some of the blandness of the romance comes from the fact that these characters are boring, and some of it comes from a lack of romantic moments between Audrey and Edwin.
This novel is very loosely set in the late Middle Ages. The main elements are there, such as lords with field workers beholden to them and fewer options for women. However, the setting offers no true constraints or color to the novel. It feels like a prettified vision of how the Middle Ages were, with anything that does not fit with what the author wants tossed aside. It does not feel like the author did very much research about the Middle Ages. Scars were not uncommon during this time period. There were wars, not great medicine, and a lack of understanding of how disease spread, making it difficult to stop. Peasants engaged in hard labor and had poor nutrition. Disfigurement and scars would not have stood out in the way the author presents them, nor were people so superstitious that they would think scars the sign of the Devil. The time period setting is not well-crafted or accurate. This means that all of the disability representation cannot be written off as a product of the time period (nor would that be an acceptable excuse no matter what). For example, Audrey is able to travel quite far on her own. She is robbed, but none of the robbers with “evil in their eyes” touch her. She is allowed to run wild through flower fields and befriend people in the village nearby, something no women of good birth over 12 would be allowed to do. The fashion and social customs are vaguely accurate, but again they bend into whatever the author wants them to be.
The writing style is fine. It feels like the author is attempting to recreate how they believe people spoke during the Middle Ages. However, it just makes the dialogue feel clunky, like puppets talking without emotion behind them. It also is not accurate in any way. The actual words used in the late Middle Ages might be different than those used by modern speakers, but they did not speak in formal and unnatural tones. The plot, like the dialogue, is stilted. The narrative tension is poorly held, and most of the struggles the characters face are overcome too easily. Maris causes problems throughout the novel, in a way that begins to feel boring and repetitive in nature. Her actions do not feel like they come from personal feelings and wants. Maris’s actions and desires are designed to move Audrey’s plot forward, making Maris’s actions feel heavy-handed and flat. Further, the author does too much telling and not enough showing. We are told that Audrey loves learning and is smart. We are also told that this woman who loves to read histories has named her horse Blackie. Considering the lifespan of horses, Audrey named him when she was old enough to have a favorite figure in history that she named him after. Blackie is the name a child gives an animal, not a woman who is presented as intelligent and interested in history.
I do not say this lightly, I feel this novel should be boycotted. It somehow manages to present every single negative stereotype of mental disability. The attitude of the narrative conveys a sense of judgement and dehumanization toward people with mental conditions. The novel has terrible representation of physical and mental disabilities and exists solely for the enjoyment of an able-bodied audience. I have read books I dislike for various reasons, but I have never read a book I hated the way I hate this one. As someone with a disability, reading this novel made my skin crawl. Castle of Refuge is a disgusting and dangerous depiction of disability that should never have been published.
DISCUSSION
Ableism is defined as discrimination or prejudice against individuals with disabilities. Disability is the experience of decreased ability level due to a person functioning in a way that society is not set up to accommodate. This novel presents a façade of disability representation that falls apart very quickly. The author crafts a story that hinges around the inherent evil of people with mental disabilities. Instead of simply having an ‘evil stepsister’ type villain, the author tries to have her cake and eat it too. Maris is vicious and cruel, but it is not her fault because she is “touched in the head”. This is damaging disability representation in two ways. First, the only evidence presented to prove Maris is “mad” is her violent behavior. There is not a single mental disability that can be diagnosed by the presence of cruelty. Rather than pulling from accurate information about mental disabilities, the author instead presents a character based solely on dangerous and inaccurate stereotypes. Second, it leans into this idea that people with mental disabilities are less capable and deserving of pity. It dehumanizes those who are different, showing their differences as something sad. In this novel, this attitude intertwines with religious ideas of everything being the work of God. However, it is Audrey who experiences this. She thinks of Maris’s cruelty and mental instability as something done to her as a test or something to overcome. It does not center Maris in her own life and instead makes her an ornament in Audrey’s. Her personhood is stolen by the narrative in the ways Maris’s “madness” is discussed and presented, and the ways in which Maris’s actions always revolve around Audrey’s storyline.
These stereotypes have real-world consequences. They are the reason people get scared and call the cops if homeless people are ‘acting strange’. They are why interactions between those with mental disabilities and the cops so often end in tragedy, especially if that person is also a person of color. They are the reason that people with mental disabilities are fired from jobs and discriminated against. I had a teacher who had revealed that they had bipolar during a class discussion beg our class not to say anything, for fear that they would be fired. I myself have faced discrimination due to my disability. Teachers have made me cry in the ways they belittle me or refuse to believe that I need certain accommodations in order to survive. The world is incredibly dangerous for people with disabilities, and this book pushes forward the exact kind of attitude that makes everything more unsafe.
The lack of disability representation and the presence of many harmful depictions of those with disabilities is extremely prevalent in literature. Disabled activists and authors often comment on the ways in which their experience is erased. The few instances depicting disability that are found in pop culture are designed to appeal to able-bodied audiences. They are disability inspiration porn stories. For example, many, many people have written about the ways in which the highly popular film and book Me Before You, encapsulates this genre perfectly. The story is about an able-bodied woman finding herself through working with someone with a disability. The disabled character is robbed of his voice at every turn – the novel does not feature a single chapter from his point of view. Everything is about the able-bodied protagonist, with the disabled character merely a tool and place where she works through a process of self-discovery. Maris fulfills a very similar role in this novel. All of Maris’s actions are for the purpose of driving Audrey’s story. Any information we learn about Maris comes from outside of her and is the product of people speculating and assuming. The author uses Maris as a tool in Audrey’s story, one that is immediately removed from the narrative once her usefulness is over.
Edwin, our other disabled character, is presented very differently from Maris. Yet his representation also falls into the category of ‘bad representation’. His disability is represented haphazardly at best. He only experiences physical impairment when the narrative wants to create sympathy for him. However, it vanishes when the narrative needs Edwin to fulfill the role of male rescuer for Audrey. For example, at one point they have to crawl deeper into a small cave behind a waterfall. This is simply accomplished; there is no discussion of how Edwin crawls into a cave with one arm. It would be more difficult and would require movements that would not read as befitting a ‘dashing masculine hero’ – so it is simply excluded. Edwin’s representation falls into the category of white male protagonist who ‘overcomes’ a disability through great struggle and endurance and goes back to how life was before. This paints disability as something negative that must be overcome and as something unheroic and unmanly. Edwin serves to allow able-bodied people to pity and sympathize with someone with a disability, and then to experience joy at their ‘great triumph’. It is not about crafting a story that feels authentic to a disabled audience or to create an ending triumph that does not minimize their experience. It is disabled achievement written exclusively for able-bodied enjoyment – what is often referred to as disability inspiration porn.
In this novel, Audrey is supposed to elicit pity due to her burns. However, Audrey is still conventionally beautiful – the author makes sure not to scar her enough to be always noticeable or actually disfiguring. The novel is trying to capitalize on this sense of instant pity for those who are disfigured without making its heroine less conventionally perfect. At the same time, it is pitting Audrey against Maris, physical disfigurement that should be pitied versus inherently evil mental disability. The narrative is using the two stereotypes of disability/disfigurement against one another, creating the sense that one is better. In Audrey and Edwin, the novel is trying to have an inspirational story of two ‘ugly’ people finding love while also demonizing neurodivergence, all without actually having to feature depictions of the protagonists as different from the able-bodied audience.
The author must feel the need to get their hands into all the ableist pies, because there is also representation of people with mental disabilities as childlike. Joan, a servant girl, is described as childlike by Audrey, although there is absolutely no evidence of this presented to the reader. Audrey thinks that Joan is so childlike that she must be “a little addled”. Again, like with Maris, the only evidence given that Joan must be mentally disabled is this childlike behavior. This stereotype dehumanizes people with mental disabilities and presents them as naturally underdeveloped and in n