Adele Joubert is a good girl. Her white father pays her school fees at Keziah Christian Academy, and Adele is permitted in the ranks of the wealthiest girls at the school — until one year she isn’t. Suddenly she has lost her place among the popular clique, and she has to share a room with ferocious Lottie Diamond, who is unequivocally at the bottom of the school’s pecking order. But in living with Lottie, Adele slowly begins to realize the ways that power and injustice function in her world — and the ways she can fight it.
I want to open this review by saying that while I loved many things about When the Ground Is Hard, I had a serious problem with its depiction of disability and disabled people. If that type of thing tends to be a problem for you and you want to know about it first, you can skip down to that section of the review. And now, onward!
Diversifying YA is a glorious and worthwhile endeavor for many reasons, not least of which is the telling of new stories. But I also love discovering books for kids that tell old types of stories in ways that I haven’t encountered before. When the Ground Is Hard uses the tropes that I’m accustomed to, and adore, in the boarding school books of my childhood: the reversal of fortune, the hostile teachers and the unexpectedly kind ones, the shows of pluck by our protagonist, the conflicts with other groups of boarding school kids. At the same time, it takes place in 1960s Swaziland, and the inequalities Adele comes to recognize arise from racial divisions born of empire. It’s exhilarating to be reminded of the ways old and beloved types of stories can be made to feel new and vibrant in the hands of talented authors like Malla Nunn.
Until she’s made to share a room with Lottie, Adele has shut her eyes to the flagrant inequality among kids from different social classes at her school, as well as kids of different skin color. She starts to see how the decks are stacked against Lottie, how a slip-up that Adele can get away with (because she’s a good girl, because she has a white father, because her family pays her fees) would land Lottie in a world of punishment with their teachers. She isn’t better behaved than Lottie; she’s just better supported. Her family and social status allow her to be a “good girl,” and they don’t allow Lottie.
Adele also comes to see how Lottie keeps fighting even within the social and educational structures that try to keep her down. When the school catches fire, Lottie’s the first to run out and fight the flames — in part because she’s brave, but in part because she needs school. Even more than Adele and the other girls, Lottie needs this unfair school that judges her by her parents and punishes her disproportionately, because it’s her only possible path to a better life. And Adele comes to recognize Lottie’s bravery, not just in fighting fires but in maintaining her personhood when the people around her try to demean her and make her see herself as less. The blossoming of their friendship is the chef’s-kissest thing you ever saw, not least because they bond over reading one of my favorite-ever books, Jane Eyre.
With so much going for it, When the Ground Is Hard really let me down in its depiction of disability. One of Lottie’s establishing character moments early on is her kindness to an intellectually disabled student named Darnell. In a more substantive scene, Darnell brings Lottie and Adele to look at his collection of beautiful things from nature, which leads Adele to see the beauty in a discarded snakeskin, which she initially finds repellent. Darnell’s character combines the trope of the disabled character who’s too good and pure for this world with the thing of suggesting that an intellectual disability makes one closer to The Land and God’s Creatures. Then, of course, Darnell dies. His death on the land of a bigoted white farmer leads Adele to a greater awareness of inequality and racism in her world, which, again, means that a disabled character’s life and death exist primarily as lessons for the abled protagonist.
I genuinely did love this book, and there were many moments when reading it felt like coming home to a genre I’ve always loved. A big part of me wished I could give it to Kid Jenny, because I know I’d have adored it — and maybe would have found my way to my interest in African history a little sooner! But my hope for diversity in publishing is that we can continue to ask for more from our books, and pursue ever-better representation of all types of people and a more just reading future.