Bran Davies vs. Disability Tropes

Susan Cooper’s The Dark is Rising Sequence is a fantasy novel series published between 1965 and 1977. Surprisingly, her books feature an albinistic protagonist, who makes his first appearance in the fourth book, The Grey King, originally published in 1975.

Part of what made The Dark is Rising stand out to me when I read it was the lack of a consistent single protagonist. The first novel follows the Drew siblings, Simon, Jane, and Barney; in the second, the lead is Will Stanton and the Drews never appear; the third novel stars all four; the fourth novel follows Will once more with Bran Davies introduced as a secondary protagonist; and in the fifth, all five lead.

While I have a few major issues with the books, particularly the character Merriman, which are shared by most fans, Bran’s portrayal is not really one of them. As a disclaimer, I am not albinistic, nor do I have any other skin condition. This is coming from the perspective of a differently disabled person who loves this book series dearly, particularly the character Bran.

The Grey King was the first book I read in the series, sparking my love for the characters of Will and Bran in particular. I will be focusing on that book, mostly because it’s the one I remember the most, as I have read it more times and more recently than Silver on the Tree, the other novel that features Bran.

Bran first speaks on the 23rd page of my copy of The Grey King. Will describes there being “a quality of strangeness about him […] for this boy was drained of all color.” This idea of albinistic otherness is nearly always present in stories with albino characters. Will originally thought that Bran bleached his hair specifically for a startled reaction from anyone meeting him.

The color of Bran’s eyes have been a point of contention, both because he is albino and because their description changed between books. Bran’s eyes are “a strange, tawny golden colour like the eyes of a cat or bird,” a far cry from the way albinistic eyes are usually thought of. Oddly enough, some claim that golden eyes are likely for albino people with dark skin tones, and while Bran is portrayed as racially white, he does describe the Welsh as being typically darker in color.

On the subject of Bran’s eyes, he frequently covers them. He is light-sensitive, as stated on multiple occasions, and he wears dark sunglasses both for protection and to avoid attention. He also uses them for dramatic effect, as shown on page 24, where he takes them off to add to the effect of what he’s about to tell Will.

One complaint I and others often have when it comes to disabled supporting characters is that they tend to exist seemingly for the sole purpose of teaching the main character about ableism or disability or compassion. The Grey King subverts this in part not by taking out that “teaching moment” completely but instead by dedicating nearly three pages to Bran teaching Will (and, by extension, the readers) to pronounce Welsh words. More time is spent on this than on Bran’s disability, and it’s truly a relief (and, as someone who is not Welsh, a lifesaver).

Throughout the book, including during teaching scenes, Will and Bran banter like any friends. Will doesn’t worry about Bran because he’s disabled, but because he’s human, and this world of High Magic is entirely new to him. Bran stops to let Will rest and encourages him to slow down when his legs give him trouble, a side effect from his illness prior to the book, but he doesn’t pity him or patronize him. This is a friendship that truly works, in ways that many relationships with disabled characters often don’t.

Bran isn’t patronized by his family or the narrative, either. His father is as hard on him as most fictional fathers, which is to say just enough to be encouraging, but he also trusts him to make his own decisions and look after himself. Bran spends a lot of time wandering, but that’s of his own choice. He works, and he’s comfortable doing it, and no one questions that a disabled teenager is working. He’s not identified by his albinism, either. It’s described, and he’ll occasionally be referred to as “the white-haired boy” the way you’ll see with any character, but when Will recognizes Bran as the boy of the prophecy, it’s through his dog, the eyes Will saw in a vision, and his name, which translates to “crow.” Bran is the raven boy, not the white-haired boy or the albino boy. He’s not defined by his disability, but by his name and his home.

When we first see other characters being ableist towards Bran, it’s Caradog Prichard, a man we’re already meant to dislike, on page 34, blaming Bran’s dog, Cafall, for the death of his sheep. Cafall’s appearance is considered an oddity and he appears to be albinistic like Bran but it’s never outright stated. Bran is unhurt by Prichard’s attacks, using the man’s superstitious fear of albinism against him. The ableism Bran experiences is partly rooted in folklore – the Tylwyth Teg, fair-skinned spirits, are thought of by many as the only pale creatures in Wales, and to many of his classmates and neighbors, that’s what he is.

Another interesting aspect of the book’s portrayal of ableism is how Caradog is described as an animal. He goes from distrusting Bran and Cafall to threatening with a gun and demanding Cafall and Pen, another dog, be brought for him to kill. Caradog’s ableism is not portrayed as a logical response to a suspicious character, or even as something completely ingrained from a young age – it’s an instinctual reaction to his rage, and it’s not limited to solely the disabled characters, as seen in the way he targets John Rowlands, Pen, and Will. It takes another farmer arriving and yelling at him to snap him out of his anger so that he can help fight the fires.

Prichard’s villainy is not confined to ableism, either. He holds a grudge against Bran’s family. Bran’s mother, Gwen, was a stranger who came out of the mountains and disappeared just as oddly, and while she lived with Owen Davies, Prichard attacked her, and is implied to have assaulted her. Prichard isn’t an all-powerful villain – he’s a terrible human being, and he keeps trying to make up excuses. Owen is ashamed of Bran, not because he’s disabled, but because his son is not his by blood and Guinevere not his wife by law.

Bran enjoys his strangeness. He likes how people fear him, and he intentionally contrasts his dress with his paler features. “You will find out,” Bran says, “that people like him are a bit afraid of me, deep down. It is because I am albino, you see.” Will, and thus the reader, are led to believe that this is a defense mechanism – he’s arrogant so he’s not ashamed. It certainly helps that his unsettling attributes extend past his albinism. A lot of his speech and his behavior in general would be off-putting to hear and witness, which helps to put him on the same level as Will.

Bran is unique among fictional boys, disabled or not, in how he is able to show is grief. When Cafall, dies, he’s in a panic. He cries and he screams and he’s blatantly detached from reality. He just lost his best friend, and it shows, plain as day. He’s not emotionless, as many portray albinistic people to be, and he’s not stoic, as many male heroes are written. He’s human and emotional and he reacts as any person would. He doesn’t move on quickly, either, and it’s a relief. He snaps at Will, telling him he never wants to see him again.

Something else that stands out is that Bran doesn’t hate himself. He may not be entirely confident, but he only begins to think of himself as a freak when he’s being influenced by the Grey King’s warestone.

You are different. You are the freak with the white hair, and the pale skin that will not brown in the sun, and the eyes that cannot stand bright light. Whitey, they call you at school, and Pale-face, and there is one boy from up the valley who makes the old sign against the Evil Eye in your direction if he thinks you are not looking. They don’t like you. Oh, you’re different, all right. Your father and your face have made you feel different all your life, you would be a freak inside even if you tried to dye your hair, or paint your skin.