When driving home from university each weekend my son and I occasionally passed the time by guessing the gender of car drivers’ way up front. We usually got it right simply by observing the way the car was driven. The ladies tended to drive more cautiously and were inclined to take the outside lane several miles before they were due to turn off.
A generalisation I know but to me at least; and do feel free to disagree, the men compose music and women dance to it. There is only one thing more beautiful than a waltz, ballet or tango; any dance for that matter. It is the dancer. I know men dance too but to me they are no more than what frames are to portraits. They are supporting roles. Credit where it is due; there are some things women are better at and it works both ways.
What has this get to do with a writers’ blog? I am coming to it; do have a little patience. As a rule of the thumb I can guess the gender of an author, not from the cover but from the writing style of the novel’s content. Now that doesn’t suggest for a moment that men are better writers than women or vice versa. I just believe, rightly or wrongly, that their take on things are different. Women writers tend to be focused on relationships; romance and emotional conundrums. Men appear to prefer writing about spearing fuzzy-wuzzies or checking if women have round heels.
This difference will not be as noticeable in a kitchen sink drama or soap opera but let us take masculine books like The Wild Geese, Zulu; the Wilbur Smith novels and those of Robert Ludlum. I find it an amusing pastime to imagine how they would read if re-written by women authors. This again is not an aspersion for what male writers could hope to match the female greats; Agatha Christie, Barbara Cartland and J K Rowling?
I was born to parents who loved literature. Among other notables my father was a friend of Irish playwright Sean O’Casey and soldiered with Ernest Hemingway during Spain’s Civil War. You could read a poem to my mother and she would immediately identify the poet; read her a paragraph from a Dickens novel; the title and even the chapter would be immediately identified. She never got it wrong. Dad preferred male authors; mother was happy with either.
Now I come to the scary bit where I could possibly shoot myself in the foot. I was once approached by a gentleman who had led a truly masculine life. A raconteur and entrepreneur he was a dead ringer for Sean Connery and had rubbed shoulders with super stars. I lost the draw – stuff happens: He placed his memoirs with a lady ghost-writer.
I am sure it will turn out well but I couldn’t help wondering: Whereas editing is mechanical and gender doesn’t come into it, can the same be said for a re-written novel or memoirs? Can a woman writer see things through a man’s thought processes? Can she possibly empathise emotionally with a man; especially a red-blooded male and his philandering lifestyle?
The same question might be asked if turned around. Can a male ghost-writer emotionally become a woman when re-writing novels penned by female writers? I have had no complaints so far and so, Jilly Cooper; I am ready to take you on, dear.