Cockeyed by Ryan Knighton features a “powerful” narrative about his progressing blindness through adulthood that shows he is “impatient with the preciousness we’ve come to expect from books on disability” (according to the summary on the back cover of the book). As the disability studies scholar G. Thomas Couser states, “such narratives not only attest to but advance the work of the disability rights movement; in their consciousness of their own condition as culturally constructed and as shared by others, their author may move beyond the familiar formulas of disability memoir and point the way to broader critiques of the construction of disability in America today” (48) relating Knighton’s unconventional disability memoir to a greater purpose: de-stigmatizing the discriminatory views that some people  have against disability. So what makes Knighton’s autobiography “powerful” rather than triumphant? Knighton’s use of constant dark humour plays a major role in making his memoir untraditional – but can his jokes be too much? Does Knighton’s dark sense of humour – shown by making jokes about his disability, hinder the process of changing the stigma surrounding disabilities through writing a memoir? To be explored further, Cockeyed can be seen as “irreverent” (according to the back cover of the book) for quite a valid reason.

Disabilities take on a variety of forms throughout the population – epilepsy being one of them. Epilepsy’s relevance in the context of humour in Cockeyed is that this forum exemplifies how some members of the disabled community feel on the use of humour in regards to their condition. As everyone has a different sense of humour – some lighter than others – Knighton is surely to upset some people. Right from the beginning, Knighton makes it clear that his darker sense of humour is incorporated into the book by signing “This book is a work of memoir. All people, places, events, and neuroses are representations of the facts. That includes encounters with dead philosophers. Should a reader determine that the author is not disabled, please contact the appropriate authorities. He would gladly delete his blindness from any further memoirs” which shows Knighton’s acceptance of his disability by acknowledging the reality of it. This acceptance reflects the grasp that Ryan Knighton has on his limits and the life situation he is facing; he is able to demonstrate “self-assertion” (44) according to Couser. By doing so, Knighton empowers his own disability so that he is able to portray himself in a way that he wants to be seen, rather than allowing criticisers to do that job for him.

So to answer the question, “does Knighton’s dark sense of humour – shown by making jokes about his disability – hinder the process of changing the stigma surrounding disabilities through writing a memoir?” I believe that his ability to maintain his sense of personality (whether it is offensive to some audiences or not) shows that he has normalized his disability, relating it to what we (so-called “normal” people) can understand. Knighton’s disability memoir is powerful in the sense that he shows readers a perspective that relates to them and helps eliminate stigma by normalizing his disability, thereby effectively freeing himself from the discrimination he has known by taking control of it into his own hands.

Works Cited:

Couser, Thomas. Signifying Bodies. University of Michigan, 2009.

http://www.epilepsy.com/connect/forums/family-friends/making-fun-yourself

http://www.ohrc.on.ca/en/policy-preventing-discrimination-based-mental-health-disabilities-and-addictions/5-ableism-negative-attitudes-stereotypes-and-stigma

Similar to how meeting a person for the first time can leave a lasting impression, the jacket of a book can convey a first impression to a reader — primarily through the cover page. Ryan Knighton’s Cockeyed: A Memoir features a prominent image of a blind man as indicated by the cane with an eyeball on the end of it.

The cover page uses blank space effectively as the only text on the cover is the book title and author of the memoir. The back side of the jacket cover features a summary of the book, as well as critical reviews that are bolded text in comparison to the summary. The image of the man with a cane that has an eyeball on the end which I have interpreted as Knighton’s source of vision is found through a cane, rather than his own brain; hence the lack of an image where the man’s head should be – even though his hand in his pocket is present – his head is not. A message from Knighton found on the first page of the book states: “This book is a work of memoir. All people, places, events, and neuroses are representations of the facts. That includes encounters with dead philosophers. Should a reader determine that the author is not disabled, please contact the appropriate authorities. He would gladly delete his blindness from any further memoirs.” Before the audience begins reading the text itself, there is already a clear sense about what the focus of Cockeyed is.

Cockeyed is one of many autobiographies, yet it is one that fits into the more specific genre of a disability memoir (according to Couser) through the use of being a marginalized person telling their life story. Throughout time, books that have been best-selling are often books that relate to the majority of people, or they are ones that feature an element of either drama or triumph. A compiled list (Grabianowski) shows that the books that are often unpublished or do not receive much recognition are literature that cannot appeal to the majority of society. In the case of Cockeyed, many readers expect a disability memoir to feature a heroic story, which is a way of drawing in an audience through the image found on the jacket cover. Even the title itself (Cockeyed meaning crooked) is designed to attract attention from a prospective reader. So, does the cover jacket of Cockeyed use the representation of blindness to indicate that the content within is a disability memoir, hoping the audience will be intrigued solely through the book jacket itself? Knighton’s autobiography is described as “irreverent”, therefore it appears based on the front cover as if the memoir is a story of triumph, as many disability memoirs are; however, after reading the back of the book’s jacket, there are hints implying that Cockeyed is unconventional not only literally in the title’s definition, but also within the story itself.

The peritext of Cockeyed is simple; it is mostly monochromatic, allowing certain aspects of the book jacket to stand out. The cover image and title, for example, are the key figures in representing what is within the content of Cockeyed: Knighton’s disability. As a disability memoir, Cockeyed is an example of one whose story might not be heard or cared about by a wide spread audience if Knighton was not a marginalized person. Therefore, the jacket cover of the book clearly presents that the autobiography is one that focuses on the life of a disabled person, distinguishing it as a book that readers may be more inclined to read. By strategically marketing a disability memoir, it can draw attention to a certain group of typically disregarded people and bring a first-hand perspective into the life of a disabled person. Through the clear depiction of a disability on the front cover of Cockeyed, as many disability memoirs feature, attracting an audience can allow for the content within a memoir being able to shift a reader’s perception of a disability, thus advancing the stigma around being “disabled”.

Works Cited

Couser, Thomas. Signifying Bodies. University of Michigan, 2009.

Grabianowski, Ed. The 21 Best-Selling Books of All Time. 19 December 2011. October 2016.

Knighton, Thomas. Cockeyed. 2006. Penguin Books.