LADY CROOKBACK – on disability and invisibility in historical fiction. By Elizabeth Fremantle

Lady Mary Grey

Lady Mary Grey, youngest sister of the tragic Lady Jane was described by a contemporary ambassador as 'small, crookbacked and very ugly.' It is thought by some historians that she was born with the congenital scoliosis of her ancestor Richard III (possibly also suffered by her cousin Edward VI) and there is more than one reference to her diminutive stature, suggesting that she was, aside from her spinal distortion, remarkably small. It would seem that Lady Mary then was a woman with significant disabilities and yet one who inhabited the highest echelons of the court. It was this intriguing figure that inspired my novel Sisters of Treason.

My own daughter was paralysed as a baby and for many months we believed she would never walk. Happily she did, but that experience fuelled my desire to give a voice to one of history's invisible women and to articulate something of the kind of life she might have led as both court insider and outsider. One comes across the occasional  man with physical differences in historical fiction: Bucino the dwarf of Sarah Dunant's In the company of the Courtesan, George RR Martin's Tyrian Lannister and polio victim Tomas Ashton of Rosie Allison's The Very Thought of You. All these characters play a pivotal part in their respective narratives, with Ashton as a damaged romantic lead in the mould of Jojo Moyes's quadriplegic hero in Me Before You, Lannister as a key character and Bucino as the protagonist of Dunant's novel. But there is a distinct absence of women with disabilities at the heart of historical fiction. It seems that women are allowed flaws of character, and a prevalence of women with psychological challenges can be found, but bodily flaws seem to be taboo. Looking to the past for literary examples offers little. There is the wheelchair-bound Edith in Stephan Zweig's wonderful Beware of Pity and a number of tragic girls like Beth in Louisa May Alcott's Little Women and Love For Lydia Springs to mind too, who are defined by debilitating illness but it is hard to find empowered women who do not conform to the physical norm. It is for this reason that I chose to take that ambassador's grim appraisal at face value when creating the character of Mary Grey. I didn't want to tone down her disabilities or blur them in any way and felt it was important for her to live on the page as she was in life and allow her, in some small way, speak for all the invisible women of her time.

The Infanta of Spain with her dwarf

In Early Modern Europe the Medieval belief still held sway, that physical flaws equated to sin, demonstrated effectively in Shakespeare's evil characterisation of that 'lump of foul deformity' Richard III. But Mary wasn't a child hidden away like a shameful secret, on the contrary she was educated alongside her sisters and is thought to have been something of a scholar like her eldest sister Jane. She spent many years at court, a place where dwarfs held special status as royal playthings. But Mary was different: she was full of royal blood herself and so I imagined her position as complex, treated as a kind of pet by dint of her stature but also holding a position in line to the throne. Mary inhabiting a place of ambivalence offered me opportunities to make her party to information others would not, as being infantalised or dehumanised in the eyes of others, her presence was not considered a threat. I show her sitting on the lap of Mary Tudor and overhearing political discussions of great secrecy. Thus she is empowered by her intelligence. But her life is a hard one, as roles for aristocratic women of the period were limited and always involved marriage and the bearing of children, something impossible for Mary. She envisages an endless life lived out in limbo at court where, as the daughter and sister of traitors, she is watched closely. But the most remarkable thing about the real Mary Grey, which truly demonstrates her extraordinary character, is that she refused to be bound by the expectations of her situation and made a break for personal freedom and happiness. A true heroine for our times.


Here's a short extract from Mary Grey's story. In it she is only nine-years-old and reeling from the execution of her beloved sister Jane.

   I hand my gown to Magdalen, who holds it up, saying with a smirk, 'How does this fit?' She dangles it from the tips of her fingers away from her body.
   'This part,' I explain, pointing at the high collar that has been specially tailored to fit my shape, 'goes up around here.'
   'Over your hump?' Magdalen says with a snort of laughter.
   I must not cry. What would my sister Jane have done, I ask myself. Be stoic, Mouse, she would have said. Let no one see what you are truly feeling.
   'I don't know why the Queen would want such a creature at her wedding,' Magdalen whispers to Cousin Margaret, not so quiet that I can't hear.
   I fear I will cry and make things worse, so I think up a picture of Jane. I remember her saying once: God has chosen to make you a certain way and it cannot be without reason. In his eyes you are perfect – in mine too. But I know I am not perfect; I am so hunched about the shoulders and crooked at the spine, I look as if I have been hung by the scruff on a hook for too long. And I am small as an infant of five, despite being almost twice that age. Besides it is what is in here that matters; in my mind's eye Jane presses a fist to her heart.

Sisters of Treason will be published on 22nd May

ElizabethFremantle.com

Book Review: Girl with a White Dog

By Anne Booth

(Post by Marie-Louise Jensen)

Jessie is excited when her gran gets a white Alsatian puppy, but with Snowy's arrival a mystery starts to unfold. As Jessie learns about Nazi Germany at school, past and present begin to slot together and she uncovers something long-buried, troubling and somehow linked to another girl and another white dog…
Family troubles, dementia, a longed-for pet and a mysterious past: I wasn't far into this book before I began to realise there were many layers in the narrative and that the way the tale was unfolding was unusual but exciting. The writing is gentle, warm and caring.

When Jessie's grandmother begins to have episodes of forgetfulness and fear and to say things that make no sense to her family, Jessie becomes afraid for her. Strangely, the things she is saying begin to link uncomfortably with Jessie's aunt, who blames immigrants for all the troubles in the area, with the brick that is thrown through Mr Gupta's village-shop window and with an attack on the young man with Down's syndrome. Her grandmother's condition also seems to coincide with her unexpected acquisition of a white puppy for whose safety she is irrationally afraid.

Jessie grows curious about her grandmother's past, which no one in her family knows anything about. This becomes especially important when Ben's grandmother visits the school to talk about Nazi Germany as part of a history project. Eventually she decides to look through her box of photos and letters which Snowy has found and chewed.

All the threads in the story are linked and connect past and present. The tale is a lesson in remembering the past and making sure it doesn't repeat itself horribly in the present. My favourite line, without doubt, and the main message I myself will take from the book is in the very last section: "a story [...] is being told that we believe in [ ... ] But we have not checked who is telling it."

Do we always think about who is telling us something and what their agenda might be? If we don't, we should. Otherwise we are easily manipulated.

Jessie tells us this is a fairy tale, and like all fairy tales it begins by being sad. And you have to make up your own mind about whether the ending is happy or sad. It may be different things to different readers.

It’s difficult to pinpoint an appropriate reading age for this book. It seems to be set in secondary rather than primary school, as the subjects are divided and taught by different teachers. The voice is young and the writing highly accessible. The subject is upsetting in places but always gently told and never graphic. My feeling reading it was that a child would understand the story on different levels depending on their age and would draw an age-appropriate message from it. There is plenty here for an adult reader too, especially those readers who aren't all that familiar with the Third Reich - and anyone who enjoys a sensitively-told tale, beautifully written.

With thanks to Catnip Books for a review copy.