I Hate Jojo Moyes...Here’s the Reason for My Fury, All These Years Later!

I’ve never been known as a hater. In the past, I’ve forgiven the worst kinds of backstabbers, barefaced liars, people who disliked me for being myself, and people who’ve quite literally left me stranded in the middle of the road, holding a white cane, with high-speed vehicles swirling by like mini torpedoes.

As a journalist, I’ve been taught to get the opposing party’s version of events. This meant the other side always received a fair hearing, not only in journalism but also in real-life situations. Good sense prevails, and you learn to let bygones be bygones. It may not mean renewed friendship, but it’s certainly a way to make peace with yourself and let go of the other person, understanding that he or she is as fallible as you are.

But Jojo Moyes is a different story.

In the summer of 2017, I began reading “Me Before You,” foolishly believing that the title referred to a woman prioritizing the person she loves. Honestly, that was how the story seemed to progress as I listened to the 16-hour audiobook.

I remember sitting in the noisy auto-rickshaw of my regular driver, John, telling him that I wouldn’t like to be disturbed until we reached the office, fixing my earphones, and turning up the volume as the story filled my head. I continued to listen that way on my way back from the office, during the dead of night, wanting more from the story. My eyes, unseeing but still normal-looking, widened at the way love blossomed between Louisa and Will.

Here’s a gist of the story: Louisa is poor; Will is a young man crippled by a terrible accident and confined to a wheelchair. Will is determined to end his life at an assisted suicide unit in Switzerland, but his mother, in a desperate attempt to stop him from that terrible decision, recruits Louisa with the promise of a good salary to care for him. They begin to love each other, and Louisa hopes that Will will change his mind about assisted suicide.

Now, I’m not one to give away spoilers, but the crux of my argument here is based on the book’s ending. Despite Louisa’s love, Will goes through with his decision to end his life. In the end, Louisa gets all the attention, wiping away her tears as she embarks on a backpacking holiday in France. She says her love for Will (or perhaps for herself) taught her self-care.

As you can imagine, the book was a smashing hit, particularly among women. Having been raised by a woman, I know precisely the kind of challenges women face in this world, and I respect them for all the right reasons. This book, on the contrary, wins Louisa sympathy at the expense of Will. To be precise, it reinforces myths and stereotypes about disability in the author’s attempt to empower her female protagonist.

You probably understand why I’m unable to contain my anger with the author. I’m sure Ms. Moyes meant well for the disabled community. However, nothing would even remotely qualify as atonement for the egregious injustice she has dealt to the disability community. A cursory search would have revealed that almost no person with a disability would contemplate suicide, even without the financial privileges Will had at his disposal. Thousands of army veterans lead their lives with disabilities, having lost their limbs and sanity in wars that make absolutely no sense! None of them make that decision to end their lives. On the contrary, they become para-athletes, motivational speakers, system designers, computer programmers, writers, and poets.

If you wonder what stereotypes Ms. Moyes has reinforced, just consider this:

The world believes that people with disabilities live in regret, regretting that they aren’t as “normal” as the rest of the world. They brood over their condition in isolation and are therefore emotionally vulnerable, even though they work hard to maintain a cheerful demeanor.

So, if a character like Will, who, despite his privilege and position, decides to end his life, you, as an able-bodied human being, would assume that the regret is so extreme in some people that they are pushed to end their lives. I imagine Jim or Martha—in their own positions of power and privilege—closing the book and telling each other, “Poor chap, what else could he do but kill himself? But you must admire Louisa’s courage!”

For this reason alone, I’d consider “Me Before You” a cheap kind of romance, cheaper than the “breakfast in bed” variety!

As for Ms. Moyes, I have these questions:

• Is this a marketing ploy—killing off a seemingly weaker man and glorifying women so that they’d pick up your book and make it a bestseller? If so, you’ve succeeded at the expense of portraying disability in a poor light.

• If a woman were disabled, would you still write the book the same way? Do you even know that women with disabilities are excellent role models and have the “will to live” (pardon the pun)?

• Do you even understand the subliminal messaging a story like “Me Before You” can have on emotionally vulnerable people with disabilities (in this age of mental illness, there are those even among people with disabilities who can be disturbed over their living condition and lack of opportunity)?

• Have you ever encountered the suicide or death of a person with a disability? Do you even understand the pain of it?

Of course, Ms. Moyes isn’t the only writer to have shown disability in such a pathetic light. There was the Portuguese writer José Saramago, who totally dehumanized the blind community with his book “Blindness,” which portrayed blindness as a kind of pandemic that zombifies people. Defenders of the author may say it’s just literary license, but they don’t understand how that could end up becoming a stronger reinforcement of myths and misconceptions about blindness. Contrast that book with Stephen King’s “The Stand,” a book with a more or less similar feel but closer to reality, which had real-life ramifications in the aftermath of the COVID-19 pandemic. Regrettably, King wasn’t rewarded for his literary genius with a Nobel. But people rewarded Saramago for his lunacy.

I’m not sure how far I’ve succeeded, but this post is an attempt to break the stereotypes Ms. Moyes has reinforced, stereotypes that her readers will continue to subconsciously believe.

My request to Ms. Moyes and other bestselling authors is: please don’t undo the hard work of thousands of people with disabilities across the globe who are working to break stereotypes that keep them excluded from the rest of society! Also, women and people with disabilities are fighting the same cause; don’t pit them against each other.