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Life Unscripted

Monthly Archives: January 2017

Book Review: The Fault Tree

31 Tuesday Jan 2017

Posted by blindbeader in Book reviews, Fiction

≈ 2 Comments

Who doesn’t like a good mystery? years ago, that’s all I read. One day I realized I was moving away from the genre because I got tired of the shoot-’em-up finales where someone always wound up dead. But years ago, when this book was first released, I read it and loved it because it featured a blind protagonist with a job and everything! I decided recently to re-read and review it on this blog… have my views changed?

 

The Fault Tree

By: Louise Ure

 

For one woman, the dark is a dangerous place to be, and it’s the one place she cannot escape. Arizona auto mechanic Cadence Moran is no stranger to darkness. She was blinded in a horrific car accident eight years ago that also took the life of her three-year-old niece. She knows she was only partially to blame, but that doesn’t make the loss any easier to bear. She’s learned to get by, but there are still painful memories. When she is almost run down by a speeding car on the way home from work, Cadence at first thinks that she is the victim of road rage or a bad driver. But that’s not the case. In fact, she is the only witness to the murder of her elderly neighbor, and now the killer believes that she’s seen the getaway car. Louise Ure paints the glare of a Southwestern summer with the brush of a blind woman’s darkness in this novel of jeopardy and courage…. and the fine line between them – as Cadence fights to stop a killer she can’t see.

 

(Second) First Impressions

 

The first thing I noticed was that this book had no cheesy title about sight, darkness, or vision. Most books that have blind protagonists fall into cliched titles like this, I was thrilled that Louise Ure chose to forego this. Instead, she uses the “Fault Tree” to symbolize guilt, punishment (by oneself or others) and pennence. The second was the fact that Cadence is a tough-talking blind woman with an unconventional job as a car mechanic. The third was the fact that she truly hadn’t come to terms with her blindness.

 

Word Pictures

 

Louise Ure paints verbal word pictures of the Arizona desert. It’s rugged, beautiful, harsh landscapes are described in ways that engage all of the senses, from the prickly cactus to the sounds of the night to the desert heat. Part of this, I am sure, was to get inside of Cadence’s head; partly, I am also sure, because this author loves this land.

 

Cadence and Discord

 

I’ve written above about how I love Cadence’s unconventional job. As a blind car mechanic, she doesn’t fall into a stereotypical job, and she’s a true part of the team at the shop. She uses her ears to listen for engine troubles, the other guys help her with visual work. Some might take offense to her nickname (“Stick”) and how incredulous the shop owner was when she applied for a job, but it’s a tough industry and it’s painted realisticly. Cadence travels independently, using her other senses to orient herself. She cooks well, labels things, and does other things that blind people all over the world do.  her brother created a special cane for her because she doesn’t like the white ones (this was, again, written at a time before coloured or customized canes were more common), and he takes her flying in an airplane to celebrate her birthday every year (something that comes in handy later).

That being said, I have HUGE problems with Cadence. This book may have been written before the iPhone became mainstream, but computers were definitely in use, and Cadence chooses not to use them. She touches peoples’ faces (sometimes without permission) and doesn’t seem to want anyone else to know that she’s blind. This last point puts her in danger when a killer thinks that she’s seen him leave the scene of a crime.

 

Other Frustrations

 

The heightened-other-senses trope. Can it just die already? Cadence smells things, feels things, hears things, and relies on them too much. Sometimes she’s right and (thankfully) sometimes she realizes that they’re just excess information. But the police either dismiss her outright or they think she’s got super-powers.

About three quarters of the way through the book, we know who the murderer is, and we know why. The last quarter is devoted to the police interviewing neighbors and family, while Cadence finds herself in the crosshairs of a murderer. Cadence shows terrific problem-solving skills to get herself and her niece out of a jam, but some of it stretches credibility.

 

Conclusion

 

It’s not a bad way to spend an afternoon, reading this book. You need to stretch credibility pretty far, but the descriptions of the Arizona summer almost carry this book. I found that Cadence, in particular, frustrated me. She would’ve frustrated me as a headstrong sighted character, too, but as a blind one she just made me want to shake her for making things harder on herself.

2.5/5 stars.

Removing the Bubble Wrap: Freedom to Fail

20 Friday Jan 2017

Posted by blindbeader in blindness

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

disability, effort, perceptions, perfectionism, protection

Listen to a reading of this postDownload

When you think of disability, what do you think of? Do you think of struggle, tragedy, inspiration? Do you think of incompetence or hope? Do you feel the overwhelming need to protect people with disabilities from all harm?
None of these – tragedy, protection, inspiration, incompetence – are what disability is about. It’s the only condition that transcends ethnicity, nationality, race, religion, gender, age, sexual orientation or economic status.
Disability IS humanity.
So why do we in the disability community – whether we’re disabled ourselves or are a loved one, teacher, spouse, or caregiver of someone who is – swing to the extremes of over-achievement and low expectations?

Those who know me well (OK, and if I’m honest, even those who don’t) learn pretty quickly that I’m a perfectionist. I like to do things well because I hate backtracking and doing my work over again. I’d like to think I’m more tolerant of the true limitations, weaknesses and eccentricities of those around me than I am of my own, but the jury’s still out on that. This isn’t to say I agree with lazy or apathetic attitudes (I don’t), but I realize we’re not all blessed with the same personality traits, gifts, skills and talents.
But why do we raise or lower the bar only because of disability? How can parents sometimes deliberately make their blind child stand out by not teaching them how to perform basic living tasks? And what makes us, as disabled people, feel the need to do absolutely everything perfectly by ourselves just because it can be done? Why do we believe the lie that we cannot fail at anything? Ever?
I’m currently working in a field that does not come naturally for me. It’s uncomfortable. It’s discouraging sometimes (okay, a lot of times). But in an odd, uncomfortable way, it’s also been the most empowering experience of my life. If one day it reaches the point where it’s not working out, I can honestly say that I threw my whole weight behind it… and I didn’t give up. I’ve been publicly compared to Rocky Balboa, and I wear that badge proudly, with the metaphorical black eye, split lip, and everything.
Why do I do this?
Because far too frequently, I’m not given the chance to succeed or fail on my own merits. I’m either not given an opportunity at all because of the preconceptions of my blindness, or I’m told that any effort I give is good enough. Both are wrong. Often times, people with disabilities are robbed of a crucial part of a growing process because these opportunities are denied us by those who “mean well.” We’re not wrapped in cotton, we’re not precious little beings who need to be patted on the head for every little thing we do that our non-disabled classmates, coworkers, or friends do just because its expected. We’re not achieving something simply because we do it “in spite of” or “because of” our disabilities. We are people, period, and we should be able to embrace our talents, be encouraged to make an effort to expand our horizons, and be met with the inevitable challenge of falling flat on our face sometimes.
So throw away the bubble wrap. We’re going to get hurt sometimes. But look back on your life. Tell me, what are the times you grew the most? Was it the time when things came easy to you? Or the times you looked yourself in the face (metaphorical black eye and split lip and all), squared your shoulders, and told yourself that you’d give it one more try?
Disabled people may need help with some things, with some tasks, with some alternatives. Or we may not. But what we need, more than anything, is the opportunity, on an equal and level playing field, to succeed or fail on our own merits, based on our own personalities, skills, talents and effort. No one should deny anyone else those growing pains and glimmers of hope, and disability doesn’t change that.

2016: The Year of the Marathon

01 Sunday Jan 2017

Posted by blindbeader in blindness

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

2016, life lessons, struggling, writing

Ah, 2016.

I am SO glad to see the back of you. It’s been a hard year for many, from a surprise American election result to many celebrity deaths to the personal struggles that many (myself included) are facing.

While 2015 was the year a bunch of bad stuff happened, 2016 was the year of holding on, pushing through, and hoping for better things to come. I’ve affectionately dubbed this year “the year of the marathon” – a very very hard marathon.

While you are reading this, I am likely snug under piles of blankets after an evening of celebrating with close friends. This may or may not have included beverages, food, games, laughter, and a fire burning some horrible symbols of this year. But 2016 is now over, and 2017 is beginning.

Fire!

 

This blog has been a repository for some important thought processes. It’s enabled me to get out some frustrations, to let others know they are not alone, to speak some hard truths into the air. I’ve written more about my personal experiences, and I thank you for joining me on this wild ride of a blogging journey. No year on this blog would be complete without looking back on what’s happened before, so here’s a snapshot of what this year has brought:

 

Top 5 Posts

 

  • 5. A Burger with a Side of Discrimination, Please, where I discuss the reality of a province’s well-publicized Service Dogs Act.
  • 4. because I’m more than a source of inspiration. Your “Inspiration” doesn’t Pay My Bills
  • 3. A cry to my own community: When we are the problem
  • 2. What would actually make my life easier: The Easy Life
  • 1. An Open Letter to Service Dog Fakers

Most popular book review: Not if I see you First

Most popular in the “Empowered” series: Elegant Insights

 

Blogging Makes me Stronger… especially with posts like These

 

Part of the joy of being a blogger is the ability to look back over the course of your writing and see how you’ve grown. Many bloggers love it when their posts gain acceptance and popularity, but I find myself challenged by the posts that were hardest to write, or those that were not accepted as widely for a wide variety of reasons. So here are a few posts that have made me grow and have truly changed my perspective on writing or life this year.

  • The post with the content I still fully support, but the title that makes me cringe.
  • I was corrected kindly on my use of language on a popular post from last year.
  • Writing this made me cry… and now that I’m re-reading it… is someone cutting onions in here?
  • Sometimes… it’s all about perspective.
  • is it wrong to have a favorite blog post?

Bring on 2017!

 

I’m so proud of how I have come out stronger in 2016. A part of me wishes it didn’t have to come from necessity, but I’ve learned a lot about writing, myself, and life. Whether it’s running with Jenny in preparation for a 10K, creating pretty beaded things with my hands, career struggles, falling and getting back up again… I’m so ready for 2017 and what it has in store. Who’s with me?

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