Reviewed by Rebecca Miles Henson
“I was supposed to die forty years ago.”
So begins the reader’s journey into the life of Gregory Smith: retired medical social worker, author, and long-term survivor of Type III Osteogenesis Imperfecta.
Mr. Smith tells his own tale, of diagnosis with OI—”brittle bone disease”—as a young child, through his experience with fractures at a greater rate than a person without the disease could ever even consider, into young adulthood, and the joys that come with that particular, challenging, stage of life. He writes of his struggles and extreme determination to make something of himself, of his life and circumstances, and to give back to society, in a world determined to make him feel that his lot is merely to await a certain, untimely demise, in the safety—and secrecy—of his own home.
Smith’s writing is easy to read, his sentences and stories brief, his style commercially appealing. Ironically, in a story that looks at the failures of accessibility in the 70s, 80s and beyond, Smith’s writing is very accessible. He writes in bite-sized chapters, each focusing on a separate element of his life—his life with OI, his life as a person with accessibility needs, and his life as a very normal human: the three exist separately, and intertwined, as in the story of any one person’s life, and each thread is intrinsic and affecting of one another. Smith includes glimpses of history as memory, which bring global context into the intimate view of his life, reaffirming the truth that his story, though unique to the author, is one which is lived, in one way or another, by millions across the planet, through the decades, in enormously differing circumstances. Smith shines a light on his own experience, whilst subtly illuminating the truth of others. The reiteration of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), and his desire to help future patients of OI with the research he could assist are just two examples of the writer’s outward-looking view.
The curbs were finally installed and life became easier. But even now, there are still instances of inaccessibility. Occasionally I run into a restaurant that has steps to deal with. There still are times, even in this day and age, when I need to enter a restaurant through the kitchen to reach the dining area.
On occasion, the jumping around of timelines can be a little confusing, but reestablishing oneself in the flow of the narrative is no great pain. And indeed, though pain has been an ever-present factor throughout most of Smith’s life, the author does not dwell on this, beyond it being a symptom of his condition. The reader does not feel that they are being forced to bear witness to what has undoubtedly been a lifetime of struggle, of suffering. At times Mr. Smith writes his condition as brutal, but never sensationalist. The writer never once comes across as a victim: the reader, therefore, experiences compassion, and empathy, but never sympathy. Mr. Smith’s humour and good nature, as well as the loving, caring nature of his family, and the “angels” in his life, are written vividly on the page. The book is a beautiful testament to those people who have been instrumental in his life; the focus is always external, rather than internal.
I met hundreds of other children with disabilities in my eight years there, all with various ailments and limitations. It led me to believe that having a rare genetic bone disorder wasn’t the worst thing in the world. I could have cancer, or be deaf, or blind, or have a heart condition or multiple sclerosis. My point is that it is a matter of perspective.
The drive and determination shown by Smith in his goal of becoming a social worker illustrate not only the writer’s own plight, but that of thousands of other disabled people across America in the 80s and 90s—people trying to live a life easily accessible to nondisabled people, which they themselves have to fight tooth and nail for.
For the first time in my life, I was pals with a group of “normal” guys. On the radio, it didn’t matter that I couldn’t walk. Everyone was the same. Race, religion, and disability didn’t matter.
Smith’s recounting of his time working in care homes is nostalgic and lovely, again giving focus to another marginalised sect of society. In telling his own story, Smith inadvertently shines light on so many others who may have struggled to tell theirs, utilising self-deprecating humour and lightheartedness, but never frivolity.
While Stronger Than Bone is, in part, a recounting of the difficulties of being a person with disabilities throughout seven lived decades in America, it does not read as an essay, or a lecture, or even some sort of social activism. Though Smith had forays into activism in his college years, real action came from smaller, personal interactions: the lowering of curbs on his street to make life not just easier, but possible, for himself and others; and the influence his love had on his now-wife Holly, that she would be inspired to fight for the rights of disabled people, as two examples.
Perhaps one would pick up this book with an interest in Osteogenesis Imperfecta—as, as the writer reminds us, there are few lived accounts of the condition, and even fewer where the patient has lived to such a ripe age. Perhaps a reader would have an interest in a true survival story, in a tale of overcoming all odds. All are relevant, and valid, reasons for choosing Stronger Than Bone. But more than these, Smith’s story is a testament to love, a passion piece for the individuals he has been blessed with sharing his life with, and a book which is absolutely full of gratitude. “Without hope, there is nothing,” the author repeats. His steadfast determination to live a beautiful, fulfilling, worthy life makes this account equally beautiful, fulfilling, and worthy.
Title: Stronger Than Bone: An Unbreakable Life with Brittle Bones
Author: Gregory Smith
Publisher: Compassiviste Publishing
Year: 2025
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About the Reviewer
Rebecca Miles Henson, author of the speculative novel, The Cracks We See Through, is a writer of literary fiction. Her short stories and poetry have been published in journals and online magazines. She also grew up with a severely disabled mother, and has experienced, first-hand, the way that disabled people can be treated and viewed by society. She has a vested interest in disability rights, and creating a fairer world for all.