That Gender Genie
Aug. 21st, 2003 11:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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cesperanza's lead I tried this Gender Genie thingie on a few of my stories and also got
Both The Space Between and And in the Morning got a result of female. The text I used for The Space Between was:
MacLeod followed Methos out of the elevator and down the hallway. He wasn't sure why he was here in this hotel with this man but he was too tired to think or to care. When suddenly faced with an option, he had realized it was easy to follow, to defer to Methos; and for a little while, he wouldn't be alone.
Methos opened the door to the suite and they both walked in. The rooms were smallish but elegant with warm, low lighting and distinctive furnishings, more upscale then his last hotel had been. MacLeod moved slowly inwards, looking around but not really focusing on anything. He could hear Methos systematically moving from room to room, opening doors and closets.
Then I plugged in the beginning of one of my FMCs (which I happen to consider to be my best writing ever):
After Bordeaux, after Byron, they sat quietly in the crimson light of the bar with the soft strumming music of Joe and his guitar behind them, sharing a bottle of whiskey. The night was at its end, or nearly so. The chime on the door signaled as the last of the patrons left. And they sat, settling into that space that happens at the end of day, at the end of a life, at the end that always turns into the beginning.
Methos tilted the bottle and watched the amber liquid hug the sides of its glass cage. Click. Slosh. He poured what was left into his glass, into Mac's glass. The lights over the bar shimmered at the edge of his vision. Slightly distorted. He downed the rest of his whiskey.
He looked at MacLeod, bathed in red light, and he seemed to shimmer also, just along the edges, like frisson, like white noise for the naked eye, and Methos thought perhaps he'd had too much to drink. He looked around and the room appeared to breathe in. And out. Contract. Expand. He looked at MacLeod again.
Brown eyes shimmered, a brief glance at Methos then down at the glass in his hand, fingers caressing the rim. MacLeod finished his whiskey and placed the glass on the table. He stood up and put his coat on. He waited by their table, silent.
Methos rose and they walked out. Cold air, sharp in his lungs, cutting through the fog in his head. He turned to MacLeod. He still shimmered, even more so under the light of Paris at night.
And got the result of male, interestingly.
Then, just to try all angles, I did what cesperanza did and used an excerpt from an essay I wrote about a year ago.
This "inversion" of the Chaucer tale allows for some further exploration of gender and identity within the characters and the story. While March, Banford, and Henry do take on their respective counterpart's traits, as well as appropriate animal characteristics, they are yet not so simply defined, although perhaps they can be queerly defined. March appears as the queerest of the trio. While Lawrence seems intent on reminding us that March is indeed a woman, and her transformation from the beginning of the story to the end is part of that, she is often portrayed as a man. She is "robust", at least compared to Banford who is described as being frail. March wore breeches and did all the hard labor around the farm. She is said to be "almost like some graceful, loose-balanced young man ... [b]ut her face was not a man's face, ever." (Lawrence 8) When hunting the fox -- and this relationship is later inverted; it is she who is hunted by Henry -- she carries a gun and raises it "to her shoulder." The fox "glanced over his shoulder, and ran smoothly away. She saw his brush held smooth like a feather, she saw his white buttocks twinkle." (Lawrence 10) This last description casts March in not just a male light, but perhaps a homosexual male light as well. (Osborn 87)
And also got a male result. (hee. twinkling buttocks!)
Hmm, interesting! Haven't a clue what this could mean, but it is curious.
cesperanza's lead I tried this Gender Genie thingie on a few of my stories and also got Both The Space Between and And in the Morning got a result of female. The text I used for The Space Between was:
MacLeod followed Methos out of the elevator and down the hallway. He wasn't sure why he was here in this hotel with this man but he was too tired to think or to care. When suddenly faced with an option, he had realized it was easy to follow, to defer to Methos; and for a little while, he wouldn't be alone.
Methos opened the door to the suite and they both walked in. The rooms were smallish but elegant with warm, low lighting and distinctive furnishings, more upscale then his last hotel had been. MacLeod moved slowly inwards, looking around but not really focusing on anything. He could hear Methos systematically moving from room to room, opening doors and closets.
Then I plugged in the beginning of one of my FMCs (which I happen to consider to be my best writing ever):
After Bordeaux, after Byron, they sat quietly in the crimson light of the bar with the soft strumming music of Joe and his guitar behind them, sharing a bottle of whiskey. The night was at its end, or nearly so. The chime on the door signaled as the last of the patrons left. And they sat, settling into that space that happens at the end of day, at the end of a life, at the end that always turns into the beginning.
Methos tilted the bottle and watched the amber liquid hug the sides of its glass cage. Click. Slosh. He poured what was left into his glass, into Mac's glass. The lights over the bar shimmered at the edge of his vision. Slightly distorted. He downed the rest of his whiskey.
He looked at MacLeod, bathed in red light, and he seemed to shimmer also, just along the edges, like frisson, like white noise for the naked eye, and Methos thought perhaps he'd had too much to drink. He looked around and the room appeared to breathe in. And out. Contract. Expand. He looked at MacLeod again.
Brown eyes shimmered, a brief glance at Methos then down at the glass in his hand, fingers caressing the rim. MacLeod finished his whiskey and placed the glass on the table. He stood up and put his coat on. He waited by their table, silent.
Methos rose and they walked out. Cold air, sharp in his lungs, cutting through the fog in his head. He turned to MacLeod. He still shimmered, even more so under the light of Paris at night.
And got the result of male, interestingly.
Then, just to try all angles, I did what cesperanza did and used an excerpt from an essay I wrote about a year ago.
This "inversion" of the Chaucer tale allows for some further exploration of gender and identity within the characters and the story. While March, Banford, and Henry do take on their respective counterpart's traits, as well as appropriate animal characteristics, they are yet not so simply defined, although perhaps they can be queerly defined. March appears as the queerest of the trio. While Lawrence seems intent on reminding us that March is indeed a woman, and her transformation from the beginning of the story to the end is part of that, she is often portrayed as a man. She is "robust", at least compared to Banford who is described as being frail. March wore breeches and did all the hard labor around the farm. She is said to be "almost like some graceful, loose-balanced young man ... [b]ut her face was not a man's face, ever." (Lawrence 8) When hunting the fox -- and this relationship is later inverted; it is she who is hunted by Henry -- she carries a gun and raises it "to her shoulder." The fox "glanced over his shoulder, and ran smoothly away. She saw his brush held smooth like a feather, she saw his white buttocks twinkle." (Lawrence 10) This last description casts March in not just a male light, but perhaps a homosexual male light as well. (Osborn 87)
And also got a male result. (hee. twinkling buttocks!)
Hmm, interesting! Haven't a clue what this could mean, but it is curious.
