By Magdalena Hernandez

Little People: Learning to See the World Through My Daughter’s Eyes
by Dan Kennedy (Rodale Press; New York; 2003; 304 pages; $24.95)

In 1992, Dan Kennedy’s infant daughter, Becky, was diagnosed with achondroplasia, a common type of dwarfism. Her adult size, doctors predicted, would be approximately four feet tall. Since Kennedy and his wife are both of average height, Becky’s diagnosis, he says, was akin to “a personal visit from Ed McMahon bearing a check with a dollar sign followed by lots of zeroes.”

Luckily, as Kennedy points out, our culture’s acceptance of diversity is at an all-time high. And dwarfs seem to be more visible among us—from Verne Troyer, who plays Mini-Me in the Austin Powers franchise, to Michael J. Anderson’s role in last year’s HBO series Carnivále.

But what does Becky’s difference really mean? That’s the question Kennedy, LA’79, Boston Phoenix senior writer and media critic, explores in Little People. Equal parts memoir and social history, loosely organized by theme, the book chronicles the journey Kennedy traveled from learning about his daughter’s dwarfism, to accepting her condition, to becoming involved in the group Little People of America.

The author puts a variety of faces on the topic. We get biographical sketches of such historical figures as Charles Stratton (a.k.a. Tom Thumb), the P. T. Barnum entertainer. We’re also introduced to contemporary celebrities, such as the late Henry J. Nasiff Jr.—more widely known to Howard Stern fans as Hank, the Angry, Drunken Dwarf. And we meet professionals from outside the show biz realm, who lead lives considered successful by any measure.

Today, Kennedy observes, “what was once stigma is now identity.” Indeed, he helps us sort out the politics of dwarfism, noting, “Most people never have the opportunity to assimilate dwarfs into their consciousness the way they have assimilated, say, people of different racial backgrounds. To them, dwarfs will always look funny, or wrong, because they’re never going to see enough dwarfs to register them as another type of normal.”

Toward such integration, we get a primer on terminology. Although “little person” is widely employed within the community, the phrase has been rejected by some dwarfs, especially the younger generation, who tend to be more politically aware; they prefer “dwarf.” “Midget,” a word coined during the freak-show era, is generally considered derogatory. But just as other minorities take control of slurs to defuse their power, Kennedy writes, “the dwarf community may be slowly coming full circle, embracing ‘midget’ as a way of lessening its sting.”

The author helps us understand that dwarfism, like race, is a social construct. Dwarfs face challenges because mainstream culture does not accommodate their needs. See, for instance, the typical wall-mounted light switch or standard automatic teller machine, both positioned at inaccessible heights for dwarfs.

Kennedy takes pains to underscore that the dwarf community is not monolithic in its views. This is perhaps most evident in his discussion of dwarf entertainers. Some argue the average-height audience laughs at Mini-Me’s antics, not his condition. Others believe dwarfs who are comic actors exploit their size for their own ends, with the result that laughing at a dwarf—any dwarf—has become widely acceptable.

Another polarizing topic is limb lengthening, an excruciating procedure that helps dwarfs attain average height. Bones are broken; limbs are placed in external frames, then gradually stretched, allowing new bone tissue to form within the cracks.

Many dwarfs are against the procedure, on the grounds that it suggests dwarfism is a “problem” that needs correcting. And the ethics behind its use are troublesome: From a medical standpoint, the optimal time to lengthen limbs is during the teen years—just when a young person is most self-conscious and desperate to fit in.

Elsewhere, Kennedy illuminates how disability rights apply to dwarfs, explaining that they are simultaneously seen as part of and not part of the disability community. We also glimpse a darker side to modern attitudes. Despite society’s widening embrace of diversity, Kennedy notes, as we strive to perfect ourselves physically—witness the popularity of breast implants and penis enlargement—we may actually be taking a step back from pluralism.

And science may be helping us make dwarfism more rare. In 1994, the mutation that causes achondroplasia was discovered by a group of scientists led by geneticist John Wasmuth. If parents choose to terminate pregnancies after learning a fetus carries the gene, achondroplasia could one day disappear. Even more troubling, Kennedy wonders whether insurance companies might pressure parents into aborting fetuses that will be born dwarfs, or simply refuse to cover fetuses diagnosed with expensive genetic conditions.

Such thought-provoking questions are happily plentiful in the book. Kennedy writes candidly and with introspection about his daughter’s condition. And he avoids the trap of using dwarfism as a symbol. This book might easily have become a meditation on “difference” and “the other.” After all, we have a tendency to apply significance to the outsider’s condition.

But, for dwarfs and their families, the condition is simply a fact of life. As Kennedy observes about Michael Ain, a doctor who chooses not to be defined by his dwarfism, “to elevate Ain because of his genetic difference is as dehumanizing, in a way, as it would be to denigrate him for it.”

One warning: Readers who, on the basis of the book’s subtitle, expect to get a glimpse of the world through Becky’s eyes will find only a few such examples. In one of the most affecting passages, Kennedy asks his daughter how she feels about being a dwarf. On the cusp of adolescence and possessed of a healthy self-esteem, she nonetheless has a child’s raw awareness about the drawbacks of not being of average height.

For instance, she says, when she has children, they will be sad “because they won’t be able to reach stuff . . . and they won’t be able to go on big rides that they like.” Kennedy hears in his daughter’s comments her “unhappiness about being a dwarf, an unhappiness that she already assumes she will pass on to her children.” As fascinating as this book can be, we’re left wishing we had a greater share of Becky’s viewpoint.

But this is a minor quibble. Little People is a well-researched overview of dwarfism, told through the sharp prism of one family’s story.

Magdalena Hernandez is a senior editor.

Stealing Dreams: A Fertility Clinic Scandal
by Mary Dodge and Gilbert Geis; Northeastern University Press; 2003

In 1995, fertility specialists at a California clinic were discovered to be taking women’s eggs and implanting them in others—without the consent of the donors. Stealing Dreams effectively re-creates the events surrounding this infamous case of egg theft and insurance fraud.

Beyond exploring the circumstances that led to the crime, the book delves into the motivations of the key players—including the doctors, the lawyers, the claimants, and the media. The authors also shed light on the complex issues surrounding the relatively new field of reproductive medicine.

The Oath: A Surgeon Under Fire
by Khassan Baiev with Ruth and Nicholas Daniloff; Walker & Company; 2003

Clearly, this book shows, some doctors take the Hippocratic oath more seriously than others.

Khassan Baiev was one of the few surgeons to remain in Chechnya during two Russian invasions in the 1990s. In his memoir—cowritten with journalism professor Nicholas Daniloff, former Moscow bureau chief for U.S. News & World Report, and Daniloff’s wife, Ruth—Baiev shares his heroic tale of treating thousands of Chechen and Russian civilians and soldiers under appalling wartime conditions.

American readers will come away with a more nuanced view of the demonized Chechens. And this absorbing account truly shines when Baiev recounts the wonders he performed as a doctor treating casualties on both sides of the bloody conflict.