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raelovestoread 's review for:
Me Before You
by Jojo Moyes
I read this book 7-8 years ago.
Since then I've read many reviews by disability advocates who HATED it (and the movie, which I haven't seen). The feeling seems to be pretty universal, and I can see why.
I would encourage anyone reading my words here to listen to their views - their words are much more vital to the conversation than anything I might have to say.
I gave this book 5 stars because it made me cry for hours. I'd never felt so utterly destroyed by a book.
A lot of people feel that the message of the book is that life isn't worth living with a disability. That's not how I interpreted the story at all.
Will is loved and valued by those around him, but his personal need for control and independence (a personality feature prominent both before and after his life changed) are so important to him that he can't accept his new life. He isn't a burden. His family, and the woman he loves, all adore and accept him how he is and are devastated by his decision. He adds value to their lives, and has so much to offer the world. He's smart, he's stubborn, he's wise, and he brings just as much quality to Lou's existence as she does to his.
The character of Will felt completely real to me. His overriding need for bodily autonomy felt in keeping with his character. The tragedy is that, because of who he is / sees himself to be, he is unable to come to terms with his paralysis, and chooses to take his own life, on his own terms. It broke my heart.
The characters felt so real to me that it tore a hole right through me. I can still remember sitting with my parents blubbing into my chicken stew and chips. I wanted Will to change his mind more than I've ever wanted anything for a character in a novel.
I agree that this is not a positive representation of disability. It is not an own voices novel, and there is a clear focus on the difficulties and restrictions that Will faces. Also, there are many ways in which the (well-meaning) people around Will fail him.
In an ableist world where there is little healthy representation / normalisation of disabled bodies, I can completely understand how upsetting it must be for the narrative to be dominated by stories like this.
For every disabled person who feels unable to go on, there are many out there living the best life they can. Falling in love, working, enjoying themselves, struggling, hurting, laughing, watching shit TV and eating pizza. And we need their stories. We need more diversity and inclusion.
I'm torn, because my rating reflects the pain and empathy I felt reading the book, rather than its impact as a literary work. Just because a story is unusual or unhelpful to the overall conversation, doesn't stop it from being valid. Prominent stories about women who pretend to have been raped, for example, can do damage if they start to dominate the discussion. That doesn't mean the stories shouldn't be told; it's an uncommon experience, but we can't pretend it doesn't happen. In the same way, we can't pretend that there aren't individuals who choose assisted suicide.
What we need is for marginalised voices to be heard, humanised, and brought into the mainstream. Stories like Me Before You bring up a lot of questions about perspective, representation, and message. I hope that these discussions will lead to more positive stories and narratives. Still, Will's story got beneath my skin, and still makes my chest hurt when I think about it now.
Since then I've read many reviews by disability advocates who HATED it (and the movie, which I haven't seen). The feeling seems to be pretty universal, and I can see why.
I would encourage anyone reading my words here to listen to their views - their words are much more vital to the conversation than anything I might have to say.
I gave this book 5 stars because it made me cry for hours. I'd never felt so utterly destroyed by a book.
A lot of people feel that the message of the book is that life isn't worth living with a disability. That's not how I interpreted the story at all.
Will is loved and valued by those around him, but his personal need for control and independence (a personality feature prominent both before and after his life changed) are so important to him that he can't accept his new life. He isn't a burden. His family, and the woman he loves, all adore and accept him how he is and are devastated by his decision. He adds value to their lives, and has so much to offer the world. He's smart, he's stubborn, he's wise, and he brings just as much quality to Lou's existence as she does to his.
The character of Will felt completely real to me. His overriding need for bodily autonomy felt in keeping with his character. The tragedy is that, because of who he is / sees himself to be, he is unable to come to terms with his paralysis, and chooses to take his own life, on his own terms. It broke my heart.
The characters felt so real to me that it tore a hole right through me. I can still remember sitting with my parents blubbing into my chicken stew and chips. I wanted Will to change his mind more than I've ever wanted anything for a character in a novel.
I agree that this is not a positive representation of disability. It is not an own voices novel, and there is a clear focus on the difficulties and restrictions that Will faces. Also, there are many ways in which the (well-meaning) people around Will fail him.
In an ableist world where there is little healthy representation / normalisation of disabled bodies, I can completely understand how upsetting it must be for the narrative to be dominated by stories like this.
For every disabled person who feels unable to go on, there are many out there living the best life they can. Falling in love, working, enjoying themselves, struggling, hurting, laughing, watching shit TV and eating pizza. And we need their stories. We need more diversity and inclusion.
I'm torn, because my rating reflects the pain and empathy I felt reading the book, rather than its impact as a literary work. Just because a story is unusual or unhelpful to the overall conversation, doesn't stop it from being valid. Prominent stories about women who pretend to have been raped, for example, can do damage if they start to dominate the discussion. That doesn't mean the stories shouldn't be told; it's an uncommon experience, but we can't pretend it doesn't happen. In the same way, we can't pretend that there aren't individuals who choose assisted suicide.
What we need is for marginalised voices to be heard, humanised, and brought into the mainstream. Stories like Me Before You bring up a lot of questions about perspective, representation, and message. I hope that these discussions will lead to more positive stories and narratives. Still, Will's story got beneath my skin, and still makes my chest hurt when I think about it now.