I’ve just finished reading Rebekah Barry’s “Considerate Content” in one go and honestly, I wish I had had this book years ago. When I was knee-deep in trauma-informed content for services like Universal Credit and Cancer Research UK, this would have been gold dust.

Barry’s nailed a blind spot in our professional knowledge. It’s so easily overlooked, but it’s fundamentally important.

So, what’s the gist?

“Considerate Content” is all about making digital content truly accessible and inclusive. We’re talking about people with disabilities or conditions that affect their online experience, and how to make it work for them.

Barry’s background in law, charity work and content design comes together brilliantly in a book that has the right balance of theory and hands-on application.

Structurally, the book breaks down into three key areas: context and definitions, practical advice, and, best of all, case studies of specific conditions. It’s that final section that elevates this beyond a dry textbook, because it’s packed with first-person accounts from people with ADHD, dyslexia, autism, bipolar disorder, aphasia and deafblindness.

Barry’s tackled a complex subject with real clarity and a kind of empathy you don’t often see. It’s not a perfect book (I’ll get to that), but it’s an incredibly useful resource and fills a noticeable gap in the content design world.

The stuff that works

The real strength of this book is those case studies. Barry doesn’t just talk about accessibility; she introduces you to Paul with ADHD, Jane with dyslexia, Naomi who is autistic, Sam with bipolar disorder, Colin and Howard with aphasia and Molly who is deafblind. And these aren’t those squeaky-clean textbook examples either. They’re complicated, messy and properly authentic human experiences, shared in their own words.

That approach really resonated with me, particularly when I was working on vulnerability-aware content for Police.UK. Designing information about reporting domestic abuse and drink spiking, I quickly realised that formal, detached language just created barriers for people already in crisis.

Just like Barry’s approach, we found that understanding the complex, messy reality of traumatic situations was absolutely essential to creating content that actually worked. Victim support organisations told us that we’d created something that struck exactly the right note.

Barry acknowledges what she calls “symptom soup”, the reality that people rarely have one condition or experience them in isolation. This is the kind of nuanced understanding that elevates the book beyond a simplistic checklist.

The practical advice is bang on, too. From explaining why you should ban acronyms to demonstrating how to write good alt-text for images, Barry provides actionable guidance that content creators can implement straight away.

The compliance mindset

I was particularly keen on her breakdown of writing in active voice and her workshop on naming things. It’s so often overlooked, but getting the naming right is critical.

I also rate Barry’s rejection of the compliance mindset. Right at the start of the book, she explains why she doesn’t focus on meeting the Web Content Accessibility Guidelines (WCAG). She highlights that even the highest standard (AAA) still provides shockingly inadequate recommendations.

Instead, she aims higher, focusing on content that’s genuinely inclusive, not just a box-ticking exercise. We did the same when working on Cancer Research UK content, prioritising emotional accessibility right alongside the technical compliance. I see standards and guidelines as a minimum requirement and Rebekah seems to agree with her approach.

Where it could be better

Look, no book is perfect, and “Considerate Content” isn’t an exception. The section on emojis feels a bit out of place. There are some chapters where the advice gets a bit repetitive.

I would have also liked to see more visual examples of those principles in action. Barry provides text examples (especially in the structure and style chapter), but more visual representations of good (and bad) accessibility would have made things even stronger.

The business case for accessibility gets a bit sidelined, too. The moral reasons for inclusive content are compelling, of course, but many organisations need to see the economic argument as well.

When pushing for more trauma-informed approaches to Universal Credit content, I often had to demonstrate how accessibility improvements could reduce support costs and improve completion rates. A stronger focus on how accessibility benefits business would make the book more persuasive for those in charge of budgets and priorities.

The book also focuses mainly on specific conditions, rather than providing a comprehensive overview of accessibility considerations as a whole.

How this compares to my work

Reading Barry’s work made me think about my own content creation approach. Her emphasis on clarity and directness mirrors my own preference for straightforward communication, but she’s made me think about areas where I could improve.

When developing trauma-informed content for Universal Credit, I always prioritised clear, direct language and a logical structure. That was in 2012, however, when the basic principle of using plain English over jargon for GOV.UK services still had to be championed. We’ve come a long way since.

Barry’s detailed breakdown of sentence structure, active voice and paragraph length provides a more structured framework than I typically used. And her advice on using everyday words, rather than trying to sound clever, really resonated.

Our approaches probably differ in structure. Barry methodically breaks down elements of accessible content into defined categories, while my writing tends to flow more organically (sometimes at the expense of clarity). There’s a lesson here for me. Attention to the smallest detail can make all the difference to accessibility and inclusion.

I’m also struck by how Barry centres the voices of people with lived experience. I relied on extensive user research when creating content for Cancer Research UK, Universal Credit and Police.UK, but this book really highlights the power of actually including diverse perspectives.

As I have said previously, it is a real eye-opener to speak to people. A jobbing plumber who has more chance of finding work down the pub than by sending out a thousand resumes. The elderly mother of a profoundly autistic daughter struggling to make sense of the online red tape to get support. People with ADHD who can no longer work as a team leader because of a shortage in medication, but feel that the welfare system is designed to conspire against them.

It’s a good reminder of the importance of research and conversation without unconscious bias, rather than making assumptions. Be extremely picky in who you invite for your user research and testing sessions, because it makes all the difference.

Practical tips

So, who exactly is this book written for? I’d say it casts quite a wide net. It’s certainly valuable for content designers of all experience levels, from newcomers just starting out to veterans like me who have worked with vulnerable audiences for years.

You don’t need any previous experience with accessibility or trauma-informed approaches. Barry explains everything from first principles with refreshing clarity. But what makes this book particularly special is how it speaks to both the technically-minded and the empathy-driven professional.

Whether your background is in UX writing, marketing copy, technical documentation or public service information, you’ll find something valuable here. It’s equally relevant for those with lived experience of disability who want to advocate for better content, and for those without such experience who want to expand their understanding. In essence, if you communicate with humans through digital channels, this book has something profound to offer you.

Here are the key lessons from Barry’s book:

• Keep language clear and concise: Use everyday words, write in active voice, keep sentences short and avoid jargon or figurative language.
• Structure matters: Use proper heading hierarchies, align text to the left, put important information first, and break instructions into clear steps.
• Make multimedia accessible: Provide alt-text for images, captions and transcripts for videos, and consider how your content works across different formats.
• Think about your audience: Understand how conditions like ADHD, dyslexia, autism, bipolar disorder, aphasia and deafblindness affect how people experience content.
• Test with real people: As Barry emphasises throughout, there’s no substitute for understanding how actual people use your content.

Final thoughts

“Considerate Content” is a great reminder that accessibility isn’t just about ticking boxes. It’s about people.

Barry says: “Some points about improving content may seem small, even trivial, to some people. I’d argue that is absolutely not the case. You have the power to make people’s lives a little easier and help them feel more welcome with what you produce. And what a wonderful gift that is.”

I couldn’t agree more. I see my own mother, 89, deaf, almost blind, traumatised by the reality of online government and financial services. Despite spending four decades in content strategy and digital transformation, I am dumbfounded by the level to which vulnerable, traumatised people are excluded digitally.

If you create digital content, “Considerate Content” deserves a place on your bookshelf. It will make you think differently about your writing, help you create more inclusive work and remind you of the real people on the other side of the screen. It’s not just a practical guide, but a compassionate one.

In a world where digital content is increasingly how we access services, information and community, Barry makes a strong case that being considerate isn’t just a nice-to-have, but essential. And that’s a message we should all take on board.

You can buy the paperback and e-book ‘Considerate Content’ by Rebekah Barry from the Content Design London shop.