Evan Marks' favorite provocative books that subvert gender norms

One of the most interesting and influential writers of all time, he was banished from society for being too provocative before inspiring and appearing in the works of Shakespeare, Dante, and Goethe.

Heroides is one of my favorite works from his long list of great titles, in no small part due to the sheer creativity of the undertaking. It not only retells Greek myths from the perspective of a woman but also restructures the narratives around love rather than war and destruction.

Not bad for 20BCE and probably about as comforting a reference as one could ask for when writing from the perspective of the opposite gender.

There’s so much to like about this book, whether it’s the quality of writing, entertaining narrative, or intriguing character study.

But for me, the most memorable aspect was that it brought an entirely new appreciation for the beauty of cross-gender narratives. Specifically, the uniqueness such endeavors offer through the introspection they invite.

Whether it’s on a conscious or subconscious basis, you’re encouraged to evaluate the voice on a deeper level than you otherwise would—its accuracy, its sincerity, and so on. And in doing so, you inevitably draw on your own experiences and perhaps become aware of your own biases or limitations.

It adds a whole new dimension to the work, and one that can arguably feel more personal than what you might find in other types of narratives.

Like Ludwig Wittgenstein himself, this book is a work of extremes.

The delusions are grand, the narrative is dense, and the non-sequiturs are out of control. And yet, the more time you spend with it, the more these inhibitors become the very reason for your voracious engagement.

Once you get through that, what stands out about this work is the nuanced approach Markson takes to the female voice. On the one hand, it’s very subtle, with thin, cosmetic references to clothing, aesthetics, and male love interests. But as you immerse yourself in the text, you begin to sense a deeper ambition is possibly at work, inherent in the stream-of-consciousness narrative he employs.

The other thing that’s cool about this book is the series of disparate facts Markson weaves together about a range of cultural figures. It’s easy to take these as throwaway comments until you remember they were accumulated manually, before the internet was invented.

I came across this at the Tate Modern, where they were featuring a room of works highlighting gender fluidity, named after Rachilde’s work, along with an accompanying narrative.

I’m all about serendipity, and the fact that I was in London promoting Vesper and stumbled across this the day before I left; well, I found it timely and intriguing. What followed was one of the most provocative reads I’ve come across of late, particularly when you contextualize the impact it likely had when it was written in 19th-century Paris.

What’s noteworthy about the piece is the author’s bold inversion of gender stereotypes, dramatized through the power dynamic between an aristocratic woman and her impoverished but highly attractive lover. The subversion is so pronounced that it pushes you to form an opinion on how such perceptions are treated in contemporary times; another example of the unique qualities these kinds of works can offer.

This was provocative in a different way, in that it made me realize how accurately an author can capture the voice of the opposite sex.

Dolly’s portrayal of Andy was, in many ways, both convincing and emotionally resonant, and she achieves this while sustaining a thoroughly entertaining narrative. It was a bittersweet experience because, as enjoyable as the read was, it set an excessively high benchmark for my own attempt.

Thankfully, by the time I got around to reading her book, it was too late to do anything about it, other than make a mental note of how much work would be required if I ever decided to make another run at it.