My journey through magical, futuristic, historic and scientific worlds

Nikola Radley reflects on the impact and value of being a member of the Reflecting Disability review team.

I’ve always cared about diversity and diverse representation in books. Having taught kids and teenagers in places like China and Brazil, I’ve seen how books can open minds and change the way young people see themselves and the world. I loved encouraging my students to read and explore new ideas, and I’ve always believed that the characters they encounter matter. I believe that seeing disability represented meaningfully in books shapes empathy, self-esteem, and inclusion from the earliest years.

So when I received an email via my MA Publishing course looking for people to help review how disabled people are represented in UK children’s books for ages 3 to 11, I knew I wanted to be a part of it.

Using – and expanding – my experience

Beyond aligning with my personal beliefs, this important study sought applications from individuals who possess a critical eye, are proactive, and have a keen eye for detail, as well as an interest in children's literature.

I’m a self-proclaimed avid reader of multiple genres, and to this day, many of my favourite books are children's. As an editor, I also felt that I was technically aligned with the project. The application process wasn’t light. First, I filled out a detailed form about my background and reasons for applying with an NDA. Next came two sample reviews: one for a short, illustrated picture book and another for a hefty 400-page fiction title for older children. At first, I underestimated the illustrated book; it looked straightforward, but reviewing it properly meant studying every single image and interpreting what was actually on the page without the words telling me, not just filling in gaps with my assumptions.

'I was surprised by how much I connected with the longer book for 10-12 year olds as an adult reader. At first, it seemed like it would be a pretty standard bullying story, but as I kept reading, it unfolded into this beautifully layered story about identity, resilience, and relationships. I even cried a few times! I ended up writing pages and pages of notes, as there were so many relevant points that I wanted to capture in my review to detail how well the story handled its characters.

Eye-opening training

Thankfully, my hard work paid off. I was invited to a full training day with the project’s facilitators, Beth and Alex. The session dove into how disability is represented in books and introduced us to different models of thinking about disability, especially the social model, which sees disability not as a personal limitation but as something created by societal barriers and attitudes. That perspective has stuck with me, and I think about it quite often in my day-to-day life.

One part of the training that opened my eyes was when we analysed illustrations. I realised how often assistive devices, such as wheelchairs or hearing aids, are depicted using outdated or unrealistic designs, and how, if I even imagined a wheelchair or hearing aid, I would picture these outdated images because of this. It showed me that even when the intention is positive, it can still unintentionally reinforce stereotypes.

It made me reflect on how easy it is, even for well-meaning creators, to miss the mark when proper research isn't done.

We also went through the review framework together, discussing responses as a group so we’d all be aligned. Later, we each completed an individual review and got personalised feedback. Beyond the training, there was a WhatsApp group and weekly sessions where we could ask questions. I often found myself checking whether specific details were genuinely implied in a book or if I was reading too much into them, especially with illustrations, or confirming whether characters were part of the background or a group cast.

Rising to the challenge

Over the next few months, I reviewed 32 books. They were all different: some were short picture books under 30 pages, others were long novels over 300 pages. Genres ranged from contemporary realism and fantasy to sci-fi and educational non-fiction. I brushed up on science topics I hadn’t studied in years and read subjects that I wouldn't necessarily choose, yet enjoyed, like aviation. I enjoyed seeing how books conveyed information about these subjects in a way that felt fun and accessible to young readers.

One thing that struck me was how much had changed since I was a child. Books now talk openly about things like body acceptance, which I wish had been normalised when I was younger. Reading these books made me think that if children today have access to such stories, perhaps society can become kinder and more inclusive, though we still have a long way to go.

The books portrayed a range of impairments, conditions and differences: neurodivergence, communication differences, sensory conditions, chronic illnesses, learning disabilities, Down syndrome, physical differences, and mental health challenges. Sometimes these were central characters; other times, they appeared in the background, barely noticeable unless you read closely.

But every detail of representation mattered and needed to be recorded.

Accessibility matters too

Whilst the main focus for review was studying the characters, illustrations and plotlines, we also had to think about accessibility. Was the font easy to read? Did the layout intrude on the legibility of the text? Were there reading aids, such as communication symbols or eye-gaze accessibility? Before this project, as an non-disabled person, I regretfully hadn't thought much about how many barriers could stop a child from even accessing a story. A book can have the most inclusive, heartfelt storyline, but if certain children can't physically read it, what’s the point? That realisation brought an awareness about accessibility that I will carry with me.

This project took me on an incredible journey through magical lands, futuristic worlds, historic moments, and scientific discoveries.

Along the way, I realised just how much richer stories become when disabled people are authentically represented, especially when that representation is layered with other aspects of diversity, like class and ethnicity. 

Some of my favourite characters were those who embodied this intersectionality, adding depth and nuance to their storylines. These books felt more real, more complete, and ultimately more human.

Being part of the Reflecting Disability research reinforced my conviction that children’s literature is a powerful force in shaping empathy and promoting equality. It sharpened my analytical skills and critical thinking, prompting me to think more deeply about accessibility and challenging my own unconscious biases.

I hope that as society evolves, it will one day feel completely natural for books to feature a diverse range of characters, reflecting disability with authenticity and care. This experience has made me far more mindful of how stories include or exclude disabled voices, and whether books genuinely welcome all readers.