Okay. Let's face it: a book like Lady Chatterley's Lover sounds like something you'd find in a 12-year-old's sock drawer just so that they can read about sex. And, yeah, it's made more than a few people a little hot and bothered since its publication, we're sure.
So what in the world does a romance novel that's been banned in schools worldwide and pretty much borders on the pornographic have to do with disability studies? Two words: Clifford Chatterley.
You see, the lusty Lady Chatterley's got a man—a husband to be precise. And while that may make the sex with the gamekeeper even hotter, it also poses a problem, especially for disability studies scholars. And that's because Clifford is rich. He's brilliant. He's not a bad husband.
But he's also paralyzed.
After suffering a paralyzing wound in WWI, like so many millions of others, Clifford has decided to devote himself to the "life of the mind." That means turning away from all things physical, sensual, and intimate. Clifford has turned into a kind, but cold, companion, leaving Lady Chatterley to seek comfort elsewhere. And boy does she.
But this book calls a lot of things into question when it comes to representations of disability. After all, Clifford Chatterley's fictional experience was that of countless real young men injured in the war (not to mention the innumerable others injured by just the day-to-day hazards of living).
So as we read this novel, we should ask ourselves what this story can teach us about the nature of relationships with those who have a disability. Must the disabled always spurn the body? Is the "life of the mind" the only option? How do we understand marriage within the context of disability? What about family and reproduction? What about pleasure? What about sex?