Never judge a book by its gender

Are you also intrigued by the nom de plumes of authors who chose the ‘write’ name to get famous? Join Indu Balachandran on a ‘man’uscript writing trip

Several women that I know of have undergone swift gender changes, without going to shady clinics or dubious doctors. One such person who transformed from gal to guy overnight was this talented young writer who went to sleep as Louisa and woke up as Barnard. The reason for this name change is understandable. Louisa had written a bunch of stories focused on lust, passion and revenge. But who would publish such lurid fiction, written by a lady? And that too in 1860? But by signing her work as A M Barnard, she found her reluctant publisher suddenly eager to sign her on. You too may have heard of this clever lady author. After writing Little Women, it seemed the right time to emerge from the closet as a female, and the hugely successful Louisa May Alcott proudly continued writing in her real name.

For a sexist nuance

But even as recent as 2013, another shrewd woman Joanne did much the same thing. After her publishers went cuckoo over her crime-ridden manuscript (feminists, note this sexist nuance: why ‘man’uscript?) they gently suggested a sex-change procedure before creating the cover design of The Cuckoo’s Calling. And Joanne K Rowling immediately became Robert Galbraith. After all, how could the creator of Harry Potter and the darling of millions of children worldwide, ever write four-letter words, that too in a gruesome detective series? Way more practical to release the book with a new masculine identity... Now before feminists reading this go off to burn down a few well-known publishing houses, do note that male writers too have plotted sex-altering procedures, suddenly transforming into women to make a book more saleable.

The ingenious Benjamin Franklin began writing in a local newspaper as Mrs Silence Dogood; a cheeky, witty middle-aged widow poking fun at illustrious institutions like Harvard. Even Benjamin’s brother James Franklin printed this scandalous and popular column with no idea that it was his own precocious 16-year-old brother writing in. Romance novelists in the early 1900s had identity problems too. Figuring it wasn’t manly to write mushy romance, Christopher Wood became Rosie Dixon; Peter O Donnelly became Madeline Brent. But a guy called Harold Robbins had no such worries. Ah! You know that one if you were a teen in the ’70s. His lustful hi-flying romantic novels were a worldwide hit, though it was decidedly difficult to hide a fat Robbins bestseller in between the covers of a Chemistry textbook, and read it furtively in class. Robbins seemed unabashed about being a man writing hot romantic fiction, inspiring several other guys into giving the promiscuous bedroom genre a shot.

Closer home, there were popular male authors of fiction who also chose to write under female names. The prolific Tamil writer Rangarajan preferred to write in his wife’s name Sujata. And the popular Bengali author Anila Devi, who gave us Devdas and Parineeta, was actually Sarat Chandra Chatopadhyay in real life. Meanwhile lovers of whodunnit, generally don’t care whowroteit! Yet there was a hesitant woman writer of murder mysteries who thought for days trying to choose between two masculine nom de plumes for herself: Martin West? Mostyn Grey? And finally settled for her own rather maiden-auntly name, Agatha Christie.

When readers are kept guessing

But what about authors whose gender-neutral names keep readers guessing: Man? Woman? Or something in-between? Many such asexual pseudonyms were deliberate choices. Harper Lee who gave us To Kill a Mockingbird dropped her first name Nelle, so that Harper may be seen as male or female. And the could-be-any-sex E L James had similar ideas while submitting Fifty Shades of Grey to be published... however, as thrilled readers of ‘mommy porn’ soon discovered, this randy dandy James was actually a housewife called Erika Leonard, much like themselves.

Being an author myself, in a family of three sisters — all writers — I felt rather flattered when someone once referred to us as the Bronte sisters (I suspect, as a joke rather than a compliment). But since sales of my books are never going to reach Wuthering Heights, I am wondering whether to quit writing safe pristine pure rom-coms, and much like Charlotte, Emily and Anne Bronte — who earlier called themselves male names like Currer, Acton and Ellis Bell all to avoid being recognised by their neighbours — I too will choose a macho sounding male name and secretly write torrid prose for a living. But till then, I will rely on my luck at where I am placed in bookstores.

When my first novel was stacked in bookshelves, I was placed alphabetically in fine company. Sitting cosily between Jeffery Archer (A) and Michael Crichton (C), both record-breaking best-selling types, my title at least caught the eye of a curious browser or two. And maybe that’s how I managed to sell a few books of my own.

(He said/She said is a monthly column on gender issues — funny side up. The author’s book, The Oops and Downs of Advertising, sold mostly because half of it was filled with cartoons by the famous Paul Fernandes. Her second book Runaway Writers is selling now, as her large extended family gets easily bullied into buying ten books each. Reach her at [e-mail])