The price of a good read

How blind and partially-sighted people are discriminated against when it comes to reading

When David Blunkett appeared on Mastermind, his specialist subject was the rather non-cerebral choice of the Harry Potter novels. This may seem to be surprising until the very limited range of literature available in Braille and audiobook format is taken into account.

Cases like these reveal an oddity or, dare I say, hypocrisy about the importance attached to literacy. We are always told how vital it is that children should be taught how to read and we are encouraged to feel sorry for blind and partially-sighted people who are unable to enjoy conventionally printed books.

However, this is a problem which is not difficult to solve. All of the technology required to make the printed word accessible to disabled people already exists. The only major stumbling block is merely a lack of political will.

The simplest solution would be for publishers to commercially produce their books in a variety of accessible formats. At present, a fair number of major bestsellers are converted into audiobooks, which are also popular with sighted readers who enjoy listening to the dulcet tones of the likes of Stephen Fry, but they represent a surprisingly small proportion of the overall output.

Furthermore, unabridged versions of these books are expensive, and are often sold at around four or five times the price of their printed equivalent. Braille and large print editions are particularly rare from publishers and instead are usually left to be produced by charities. According to recent research carried out by the RNIB in support of the Right to Read campaign, a huge 96% of books are never made accessible in any way.

This commercial apathy is usually justified by saying that there is just not a large enough market among blind people. However, this excuse fails to consider the large number of people with less significant sight problems or with dyslexia, who would also benefit from alternative formats. But the major problem with this argument is that it is contradicted by the stance of the publishers when it comes to self-help conversions of books by disabled people.

It is relatively straightforward process to scan a book into a home computer and there is software available to produce an imperfect spoken version using optical character recognition, or indeed a copy in Braille or large print. The only disadvantages are that the equipment remains very expensive, upwards of one thousand pounds in total, and each individual scan takes a long time, several days in the case of a very large book. Both of these difficulties could be overcome through file-sharing but publishers refuse to allow it.

Their fear is palpable and, suddenly, it seems as though a fairly small minority, regarded as being commercially insignificant, has become a horde of potential pirates. This idea is absurd. Nevertheless, the lobbyists of the publishing industry continue to crusade against any relaxation of the current laws on copyright. In the United States, a special exemption exists which allows the Library of Congress to produce talking books for blind people and this same loophole has been used to allow a more extensive sharing of books via the internet site Bookshare.

Unfortunately, when the UK government reformed the law in this area a few years ago, it was designed specifically to avoid a similar scheme from being possible here. Instead, disabled readers are only permitted to scan books which they already own at the expense of considerable time and money. The industry is not willing either to make reading accessible themselves or to allow anyone else to do it for them.

As a child, I was very successful in my schoolwork but found it difficult to make friends. I went to Cambridge University but dropped out after a year due to severe depression and spent most of the next year in a therapeutic community, before returning to Cambridge to complete my degree. I first identified myself as autistic in 1999 while I was studying psychology in London but I was not officially diagnosed until 2004 because of a year travelling in Australia and a great deal of NHS bureaucracy. I spent four years working for the BBC as a question writer for the Weakest Link but I am now studying law with the intention of training to be a solicitor. My hobbies include online poker and korfball, and I will be running the London Marathon in 2007. I now have many friends and I am rarely depressed but I remain single.
Getty
Show Hide image

If there’s no booze or naked women, what’s the point of being a footballer?

Peter Crouch came out with one of the wittiest football lines. When asked what he thought he would have been but for football, he replied: “A virgin.”

At a professional league ground near you, the following conversation will be taking place. After an excellent morning training session, in which the players all worked hard, and didn’t wind up the assistant coach they all hate, or cut the crotch out of the new trousers belonging to the reserve goalie, the captain or some senior player will go into the manager’s office.

“Hi, gaffer. Just thought I’d let you know that we’ve booked the Salvation Hall. They’ll leave the table-tennis tables in place, so we’ll probably have a few games, as it’s the players’ Christmas party, OK?”

“FECKING CHRISTMAS PARTY!? I TOLD YOU NO CHRISTMAS PARTIES THIS YEAR. NOT AFTER LAST YEAR. GERROUT . . .”

So the captain has to cancel the booking – which was actually at the Salvation Go Go Gentlemen’s Club on the high street, plus the Saucy Sporty Strippers, who specialise in naked table tennis.

One of the attractions for youths, when they dream of being a footballer or a pop star, is not just imagining themselves number one in the Prem or number one in the hit parade, but all the girls who’ll be clambering for them. Young, thrusting politicians have similar fantasies. Alas, it doesn’t always work out.

Today, we have all these foreign managers and foreign players coming here, not pinching our women (they’re too busy for that), but bringing foreign customs about diet and drink and no sex at half-time. Rotters, ruining the simple pleasures of our brave British lads which they’ve enjoyed for over a century.

The tabloids recently went all pious when poor old Wayne Rooney was seen standing around drinking till the early hours at the England team hotel after their win over Scotland. He’d apparently been invited to a wedding that happened to be going on there. What I can’t understand is: why join a wedding party for total strangers? Nothing more boring than someone else’s wedding. Why didn’t he stay in the bar and get smashed?

Even odder was the behaviour of two other England stars, Adam Lallana and Jordan Henderson. They made a 220-mile round trip from their hotel in Hertfordshire to visit a strip club, For Your Eyes Only, in Bournemouth. Bournemouth! Don’t they have naked women in Herts? I thought one of the points of having all these millions – and a vast office staff employed by your agent – is that anything you want gets fixed for you. Why couldn’t dancing girls have been shuttled into another hotel down the road? Or even to the lads’ own hotel, dressed as French maids?

In the years when I travelled with the Spurs team, it was quite common in provincial towns, after a Saturday game, for players to pick up girls at a local club and share them out.

Like top pop stars, top clubs have fixers who can sort out most problems, and pleasures, as well as smart solicitors and willing police superintendents to clear up the mess afterwards.

The England players had a night off, so they weren’t breaking any rules, even though they were going to play Spain 48 hours later. It sounds like off-the-cuff, spontaneous, home-made fun. In Wayne’s case, he probably thought he was doing good, being approachable, as England captain.

Quite why the other two went to Bournemouth was eventually revealed by one of the tabloids. It is Lallana’s home town. He obviously said to Jordan Henderson, “Hey Hendo, I know a cool club. They always look after me. Quick, jump into my Bentley . . .”

They spent only two hours at the club. Henderson drank water. Lallana had a beer. Don’t call that much of a night out.

In the days of Jimmy Greaves, Tony Adams, Roy Keane, or Gazza in his pomp, they’d have been paralytic. It was common for players to arrive for training still drunk, not having been to bed.

Peter Crouch, the former England player, 6ft 7in, now on the fringes at Stoke, came out with one of the wittiest football lines. When asked what he thought he would have been but for football, he replied: “A virgin.”

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 01 December 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Age of outrage