Fourth Wing: The disability rep I didn’t know I needed

This is the story of how I ended up sobbing over a custom made dragon saddle. Yup, not a sentence I ever thought I would write, either.

But recently it was Ehlers Danlos Awareness Week, so it seems a good time to write about this.

I will hold my hands up right now (one of which is splinted and swollen - more on that later) and say that I had, until four days ago, never read an adult fantasy book.

I’ve always been a bit snobby about it, perhaps. I like literary fiction because I am obsessed with human beings, and being human. I need characters that feel real, that experience things and convey those experiences to me as if I am the one experiencing them. I therefore didn’t think that fantasy, with its dragons and elves and… gnomes? I don’t even know what kind of characters often feature in fantasy books because I don’t read them… I didn’t think that other beings would be able to provide any semblance of a relatable experience for me. I also struggle with maps, and facts, and names, and that aspect of fantasy has historically put me off. I can’t even play chess; let alone understand the Rules of The Flargantuan Treaty of 3065 made between the warring Vinsjuku Clan from the Eastern Wards of the Hombala Straits and the Gilded Derpingtons from level 4 of the 13 Mines of Schinmubu.

And then, people started talking about Fourth Wing, and for some reason, I listened. Normally I gloss over fantasy chat on my Bookstagram, but something about it spoke to me. I knew nothing about it - just that it’s about people learning to ride dragons - but I saw how people were talking about it, and how they lit up, and I wanted to feel how they felt.

I read on my Kindle, which tends to put a bit of distance between a book and I, but I didn’t want to splash out on a physical copy if I was going to hate it. Spoiler alert; I did not hate it, and I wish I’d had the foresight to pick up a beautiful sprayed edge version like this one from Fairyloot.

It wasn’t long before I started to realise that the main character, Violet, was somehow - despite her entering into a dragon riding military training establishment, and me sitting on my sofa at home waiting for my baked potato to cook - kind of like me. She was struggling with her physical health; loose joints, old injuries flaring up, becoming out of breath easily, struggling to carry heavy things. And she was planning ahead as best she could to figure out how on earth she was going to survive in a world which was designed for able bodied people. Not only that, she was preparing to fight for her life through a series of gruelling physical challenges designed to weed out - and kill - the weaker members of the group. Thankfully I was not, but the way that her character was written was just so incredibly relatable. Not just the physical symptoms, but her mental state. How she thinks and plans ahead. Her emotions. It was all so familiar. I found myself thinking ‘she has Hypermobile Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. Surely. Surely she doesn’t, though, because I haven’t heard about that being the case, but…. does she?!” One swift Google later and I learned that the author, Rebecca Yarros, has Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. And so, therefore, does her brave, daring, spirited main character, Violet Sorrengail.

“My favorite aspect of Violet is that her strength isn’t physical. Because she lives with chronic illness (based on Ehlers-Danlos, which I have), she has to rely on her wits and find different ways and accommodations to succeed and survive in an exceptionally brutal environment designed to weed out the weakest. I really hope that others living with chronic illness can see elements of themselves represented in Violet and that readers come away feeling inspired by Violet’s tenacity.” - Rebecca Yaros

For those unaware, the Ehlers Danlos Syndromes are a group of 13 genetic degenerative connective tissue disorders. I have hEDS, Hypermobile Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, meaning that my joints dislocate or subluxate (partially dislocate) very easily, that ligaments and tendons tear when under very minor pressures, my gastrointestinal and cardiac functioning is impaired and I live with severe, daily pain and fatigue. I am currently typing one-handed (which is very arduous) as I subluxated my wrist while trying to take the handbrake on my car off (with no great force, might I add) and have now got my hand and wrist splinted and wrapped. It hurts, and I am frustrated. I can’t drive my child around or nip to the shops. I can’t do my own buttons up. It’s tricky to cook for myself. I tend to feel very alone in my illness and disability; exhausted by having to excuse myself from the life I’d like to lead.

I have never, ever, seen myself represented within a book, let alone within a main character, and I certainly wasn’t expecting to find it within a fantasy book.

“Violet deals with more pain before lunch than you do in an entire week. If any of my children is capable of surviving the Riders Quadrant, it’s her.”

I don’t mind admitting that I had a big cry when I realised I was reading a book about a character with EDS. I texted friends and colleagues that had read Fourth Wing to ask why they didn’t tell me to read it sooner and, while one had mentioned good disability rep, none of them had realised that Violet’s disability was EDS. Which is fair enough, because it’s a poorly recognised condition. My affinity with Violet’s character was instantly stronger than any I’ve ever felt. It felt like a secret I was destined to discover; the compulsion I felt to read this book despite it being the opposite of the kind of thing I would normally read, just to find someone like myself within its pages. Living with a degenerative, painful condition like hEDS means constant forward planning, constant sacrifice, and constant pain. It means struggling to form or keep relationships, it means facing your mortality and frailty daily, it means questioning whether everything and anything you do is going to cause you problems. Reading such a sensitive, accurate representation of this state of existence broke me open. I cried for myself, I cried for Violet, I cried for the worry those who love her feel, I cried with the pure release of knowing that someone, somewhere, understands. The author understands how infuriating and dispiriting it is to be told you are frail, too weak, too risky, over and over again by loved ones. She understands how that can form the steeliest core of determination within a person, but how it can simultaneously challenge or break bonds, and she understands how deeply that cuts. She understands how utterly exhausting it is to keep up the facade while in the presence of people who expect to see you succumb. She also understands the power that comes from being seen, held and supported by the right people; the sheer joy of being alive when you have to fight for it every day. And she has quietly written all of that into the main character of book 1 of a 5-book epic, without shouting about it. It is a simple “here, have this main character. She has EDS and she is incredible. Enjoy the ride.”

Before I reached the end of the first chapter, I was gripped. I devoured the entire book in the dead of night over the course of three nights - the only peaceful reading time I could find amid my busy life. I marvelled at how Yaros mentions Violet’s physical issues just enough to remind the reader that they exist, while keeping the focus on her mental grit, strength and courage; and her ability to keep her heart open. Disabled people can and do fall in love or lust and have great sex, and Yaros doesn’t shy away from that; the simmering sexual tension in Fourth Wing had me hooked like never before. The action scenes are so well-written that I felt as if I was flying with Violet and her peers; that I was experiencing the exhilaration, the pain, the fear, the triumphs and the losses right alongside them. I felt very, very sick at one point - in a good way. Which I know is weird, but with EDS, I often feel sick in a very bad way, so it was nice to feel sick from riding a dragon instead.

There’s a deaf character, a non binary character, queer people, there are morally flawed characters and complicated family dynamics and twists and turns which literally made me gasp out loud, but none of it is sensationalised and they don’t feel like token efforts. It’s all just there, existing within their world, as it does within ours. People just aren’t shown it enough.

Every now and again, throughout the book, there are moments which - in another first - made me cry. I am not a crier when it comes to books. I guess I’ve always been able to separate myself from the characters, but it turns out that the main character’s love interest designing her a custom and first-of-its-kind saddle for her dragon, so that she can wield her powers and do her incredible thing to the fullness of her ability, will make me sob. To feel that someone understands and accepts you for who you are, and to know that they are making an effort to accommodate that without being asked - to enable you to use the powers you do have, whether that’s dragon riding or writing or baking or raising your child or simply being - is one of the most powerful, and sadly rare, feelings when you live with chronic illness.

“There is no rule that says a dragon cannot modify their seat to serve their rider. You have worked just as hard - if not harder - than every rider in this quadrant. Just because your body is built differently than the others doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to keep your seat. It takes more than a few strips of leather and a pommel to define a rider.”

This book which pretends to be about riding dragons has broken and mended my heart several times over the last few nights. It’s reminded me that using mobility aids isn’t shameful. It’s reminded me that I am worthy of love, and respect, and praise. I am deserving of the same things everyone else is deserving of, despite being built differently. It’s reminded me that I can do big things; that my pain and my disability don’t define me. I define me. It’s made me cry, laugh, gasp, and it’s left me sleep deprived, but I am so, so glad that I felt that strange compulsion to pick it up. I needed this book. Maybe now that I’m reading fantasy books, I’m getting carried away, but it feels almost as if someone used their signet power to attract me to the book. If you know, you know. You can pick up a copy here; in case you couldn’t tell, I really think you should.