I’ve recently heard some sharp comments from friends about male authors publishing books under female names. The pseudonyms are sometimes gender-neutral, but in genres dominated by women, readers assume that these writers are women too.
I know there are historical examples of the inverse: female writers using male names or gender-neutral names that are assumed to be male. But are these equivalent? Whatever difficulty male authors may face in majority-female literary genres today cannot compare to women’s historical struggle to live a public life. Is it unethical for these male authors to present themselves this way? — Name Withheld
From the Ethicist:
The longstanding asymmetry you note points to a woeful history. Women have taken male pen names to be read as writers rather than dismissed as female writers. When men have written under female names, by contrast, the motive has often seemed tilted toward manipulation — a way to gain access to female readerships or to game the market. It can feel like stolen valor.
Consider Lawrence Block, who churned out lesbian pulps in the 1950s and ’60s under the names Jill Emerson and Lesley Evans (“Strange Are the Ways of Love”), the better to titillate the men he was targeting. Or male authors of romance novels about women, like Thomas E. Huff, who wrote as the megaselling Jennifer Wilde (“Love’s Tender Fury”). Romance publishers have long pushed men in the genre to adopt female names.
But is the basic narrative here — women evade, men invade — a little pat? It’s certainly true that, in recent years, some men writing mainstream trade fiction have obscured their gender in an effort to help their chances. When Todd Ritter found his fiction fizzling, he had to reboot his career and chose to use a gender-neutral pseudonym, Riley Sager. Women apparently buy most books, especially fiction, and the data shows that new female authors outsell their male counterparts. (These days, an Ellis Bell might adopt Emily Brontë as a pen name.) Readers often shrug when these identities are revealed — after all, Jennifer Wilde’s books kept selling even after the truth came out. But as you note, the reaction isn’t always so easygoing.
An interesting comparison is with women who write genre fiction about gay men. Tony Fennelly, when publishing a debut mystery about a gay sleuth, let its packaging blur her gender and only later outed herself — in the letters section of this newspaper. After her book did well, she wrote: “The truth can be known. I am (as my husband has suspected for years) entirely female.” A decade ago, as Reddit records, some gay men were flummoxed when Josh Lanyon, a prolific author of gay genre fiction, turned out to be one Laurie Gold; a male competitor even accused her of catfishing. Then her male fans took a beat and came to grips with the truth: There was nothing about their lives that a woman couldn’t capture.
And so it goes. In many cases these days, the dust-jacket masquerade isn’t meant to last; it’s just a foot in the door. Todd Ritter outed himself as soon as the first Sager book took off. Readers picture an author of one gender, only to discover they got it wrong, and they process the reality. There’s value in that. As for those midcentury lesbian pulps that men wrote for other men? They ended up circulating among queer women and, scholars say, helped shape modern lesbian identity.
The deeper lesson is simply that imagination isn’t bound by gender. The putative authority of lived experience — the idea that only certain people have the ability and the right to tell certain stories — shouldn’t be taken at face value. Fiction’s power, for writers and readers, lies in the way it allows us to inhabit lives other than our own. Even when the gender ruse is driven by mercenary motives, it forces us to appreciate, once more, the power of empathy.
Readers Respond
The previous question was from a parent of a 15-year-old son who has been spending time at home with his teenage girlfriend. The parent wrote: “Because of an accidental slip of my son’s, I learned that her parents don’t allow her to date. She has been spending a lot of time at our house, and I suspect that her parents think she’s visiting a female friend. I’ve warned my son that this secrecy could end badly if her parents find out that she’s deceiving them. … My husband and I feel uneasy about being complicit in this deception. The girl’s parents speak little English, so communicating with them would be tricky. … Can I just supervise them at my house and absolve myself of enforcing her parents’ rules?”
In his response, the Ethicist noted: “How would you feel if your son were the one sneaking off? Her parents are entitled to set boundaries for their minor child. Given your restricted options, you might start by talking with your son’s girlfriend. She understands her parents’ temperament and values, and she can gauge what might be acceptable to them. You’re not responsible for enforcing her parents’ rules, and you’ll want to avoid pushing her toward any action that might compromise her safety. But you can help both teenagers appreciate the value of honesty. … And if your son’s girlfriend insists on keeping her parents in the dark? I’m afraid you should tell the couple that they can’t meet at your home anymore. Yes, your son will most likely be furious and bitterly regret that he inadvertently revealed the situation with her parents. And yes, teenagers in love often find ways around obstacles. But now that you’re aware, you can’t ethically enable this deception under your roof.” (Reread the full question and answer here.)
⬥
What is foundational here is the trust between parents and son — not between parents and parents. What would the son think of the betrayal of his personal information and the ruination of his relationship? Teens who aren’t heard and respected learn to lie, and then lose out on parental care and wisdom. The relationships between other parents and children are best left without interference. — Annette
⬥
Discussing the dilemma openly with the young couple is a reasonable approach. By including the letter writer as a knowing bystander, the couple should understand that they now have a problem they didn’t previously fully appreciate. And now that they know about it, what do they suggest everyone do? It’s the discussion that matters more than the actual solution. — Tim
⬥
I fear the Ethicist erred in prioritizing parental rights and championing truth-telling above other virtues. We don’t know what the girl’s parents may do if she’s found to be dating a boy without their permission. Violence is not out of the question. I’d rank safety-planning over transparency in this case. — Patty
⬥
When I was a teenager, my mother, a radical Catholic, only accepted me dating to pursue marriage. That isolated me from girls, and I didn’t have a girlfriend until I was nearly 30. I even became accustomed to concealing my friendships from my parents. The letter writer should welcome the girlfriend, especially as she navigates a world in which she doesn’t have her parents’ support. — Manuel
⬥
Teenagers are volatile, sexually charged and have few safe places to meet. Do you trust your son to act with integrity with the girl he loves? Then tell him so, with pride, while pointing out legalities he might not know. Under your supervision, the young couple is safe from drugs, violence and the vast possibilities of rash behavior. Teenage love may not last, but it is love. Let them have that joy, too. — Jackie
Kwame Anthony Appiah is The New York Times Magazine’s Ethicist columnist and teaches philosophy at N.Y.U. To submit a query, send an email to [email protected]. More about Kwame Anthony Appiah
The post Can Male Authors Publish Books Under Female Names? appeared first on New York Times.
