You know the titles. The ones that indicate the gender of the protagonist or victim in some short, vague line. The Girl on The Train. The Woman in the Window. Gone Girl. The Wife Upstairs. Then She Was Gone. The Woman in Cabin 10. Her Perfect Bones (WTF?!).
It’s an ongoing book trend that has made me really dislike the mystery thriller genre. Why is a bland title such as “What She Knew” the standard, not the exception? (By the way, I seriously just made that one up and Googled it and *surprise* it’s an actual title.)
There are always going to be annoying trends, like the historical fiction covers of women walking away. Often in muted colors. Bonus points if it’s a WWII historical fiction. But you get the picture. It’s just one of those things. So why does this one bother me so much?
My first complaint is the liberal use of the word “girl.” Most of the titles that use the word “girl” are not talking about a girl at all, which is defined as a “female child.” These are grown-ass women. The “girl” on the train is a 30-something alcoholic. The “girl” who is gone is a similar age and masterfully plotted her own disappearance and gave herself a new identity.
Sure, we use the word “girl” in a loose sense. Women are not infrequently called “girls” in day-to-day life, something that is already a sore spot for feminism in general. Grown girls are, well, women.
It matters because the word “girl” diminishes the character. Suddenly, she’s not a strong and capable human, but a vulnerable and naive child. “Girl” implies that she cannot take care of herself, make her own decisions, and probably has fanciful, underdeveloped ideas about the world. In a sense, we cannot take her seriously.
Let’s put that aside for a second. It’s still only part of the problem. The other is that her, the protagonist’s, gender needs to be specified, as though it alone indicates her innocence and need to be protected. For some subliminal, ingrained reason, we care more about a woman protagonist in a story about murder. And that seems good enough for a lot of book publishers.
But this isn’t as much of a red flag as the use of the word “wife.” Here, this protagonist is directly identified in her relationship to a man. Maybe her relationship is the cause of her fictional problems (men, amirite?), in which case, her relationship is somewhat relevant. But in a lot of ways it reduces the character to her marital status, and does not allow her to be seen without the man in the picture.
Then, the overuse of the word “wife” also implies that the overuse of the word “girl” may alternately refer to the character’s unmarried status. It could imply that to be grown the girl must be attached to a man.
I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that all these labels imply something more than just gender. They imply that gender tells you something. Something that you will find interesting about the book. Why are we drawn to dark covers with a small splash of color, perhaps with part of a woman’s outline or shadowy face? What is it about women that make murder mysteries more desirable?
Maybe she adds a bit of sexiness to the story. A bit of vulnerability. A bit of naivety. All those tired assumptions we have about how women should be. Maybe “she” isn’t just any woman, but the kind of woman we expect in this role. The ubiquitous “she” is a woman we have already pictured in our minds (if not already pictured on the cover). Think: beautiful, long hair, thoughtful, vulnerable, intelligent.
So, ladies – because, yes, ladies are the biggest perpetrators of this recent trend – let’s do better. Let’s give our characters the title their story deserves. Their story does not hinge on their gender. And they aren’t just a wife, or girl, or even just a woman. Once we break her out of this cliche, the more we do ourselves a favor as women, and the more we do our characters a favor by acknowledging they aren’t just their gender.
