Well, this was a … very, very straight book. And I know that probably sounds like an odd thing to say, considering it’s m/f about two definitely straight people. But there’s, like, straight, which is just the way something happens to be. And there’s straight like a door being shut in your face. And, for me, this was the latter.
I picked it up without really paying much heed to what it was about because, back in the dim and distant past, the author wrote some romance-adjacent fantasy I can’t remember much about but definitely enjoyed at the time: The Laurentine Spy and The Thief With No Shadow. Anyway, when I realised Emily Larkin was Emily Gee getting her histrom on I was IN. So very in.
And. Well. I guess I’m out again? Or at least ambivalently hokey-cokeying.
I won’t deny there’s lots to like here: Emily Larkin-Gee is just incredibly readable and I did, in fact, read this in a single sitting. I just also ended up struggling a lot. I think, maybe, part of my problem is that I have fallen out of love hard with the Heroine Disguised As A Boy trope. I was always super drawn to it as a youngling but I increasingly suspect the reason I was drawn to it was because I was, err, looking for queerness. Looking for queerness in all the wrong places. Because, when you get right down to it, the Heroine Disguised As A Boy trope, however subversive it feels on the surface, often amounts to repudiation of queerness, rather than an embrace of it. After all, such stories always end with everyone safely returned to their biologically-determined gender identity, the social order of cisman-with-ciswoman restored, and the hero laughingly relieved that he’s not a big gayer after all.
So the deal with Unmasking Miss Appleby (and even the name gives me pause) is that the plain but intelligent (and naturally bespectacled) heroine is living with the evil side of the family following the tragic death of her parents. She is fading into miserable spinsterhood, dreaming of independence, when an obviously malignant fairy godmother (this is one of the “lots to like here” bits) turns up and grants her a superpower of her choice. She goes for, like, shapeshifting, transforms into a man, and uses her new being-a-manness to secure a position as secretary to Lord Cosgrove, a committed abolitionist who is currently under attack by enigmatic forces who seem to want to bring him to ruin. From here things go as you’d want: they do manly lord-and-secretary bonding (NOT GAY), she falls for him, but oh no she’s a boy, and there’s the whole mystery of who is fucking with Lord Cosgrove and why. I kind of enjoyed this mystery, it’s twisty and turny, and the heroine—by dint of being a man, and also occasionally, a dog and sparrow—is heavily involved in untangling it.
I mean, it’s slightly undermined by the heroine taking one look at the obvious villain, being like “oh, it’s this guy” and Lord Cosgrave spending the next three hundred pages being like “it’s definitely not that guy” only for it totally be that guy. Which makes Lord Cosgrave look kind of daft for no reason. But then, I wasn’t a huge fan of Lord Cosgrave. His terrible tragedy is that his now-dead wife was unfaithful, and he spends a lot of his time delivering lines like “she had the face of an angel, and the heart of a whore.” Which, y’know, sounds pretty cool if you ask me? I would love to have the face of an angel and the heart of a whore: I think it would mean I was very hot and ran my own business. But I’m just generally not into the whole, “this dead woman wasn’t exactly what I wanted her to be and now I have the sads” – and to be fair to the book we later learn there’s slightly more going on with his evil dead wife but it’s basically just spins the dial from “monster” to “victim.” Which I’m not sure is an improvement?
Anyway. There were a few elements of the book that brought me up short, many of which I think were more about, well, me? Than the book? But to start with the least personal … hm. How can I explain this.
Okay, loathe as I am to reference JKR with regard to anything but, like, you know Mad Eye Moody? How he spends the entirety of book 4 locked in his own trunk while Harry has a bunch of meaningful bonding experiences with … wossname … David Tennant. But then Mad Eye is released from the trunk, and David Tennant is arrested, and technically the real Mad Eye should be a stranger to Harry. Because they have no relationship whatsoever. But the books and the films just continue as if the relationship Harry developed with David Tennant was ACTUALLY developed with Mad Eye Moody.
Well, I think there’s something of that going on here. Because when Miss Appleby discovers she’s got the hots for Lord Cosgrave, to the extent that it’s making it difficult to pretend to be his male secretary around him, she comes to him as herself and trades information about whoever is trying to ruin his life for, err, sex with him. More on this later. This leads to Miss Appleby-as-herself developing a sexual relationship with Lord Cosgrave. Except he spends most of the book being paternalistically supportive of his naïve new secretary, and it feels like there’s no connection between these two relationships. He’s not allowed to experience anything other than mild affection for his secretary (because NOT GAY, did I say this was NOT GAY) but there’s also not much space for him to develop an emotional dynamic with Miss Appleby-as-herself.
Which means it’s sort of like he’s marrying Mad Eye Moody even though he was way closer to David Tennant. And I know, in this case, Mad Eye Moody and David Tennant are supposed to be the same person but Cosgrave treats his secretary like a secretary. And Miss Appleby is a woman he has sex with about three times?
Speaking of the whole sexing Miss Appleby thing, for me it raised some weird consent questions. Firstly because she literally trades sex with him for information which, I guess, is more prostitutiony? Than it is non-consensual? (Who has the heart of a whore now, Lord Cosgrave, eh? And maybe let’s not treat sex work like it’s shameful). But then there’s the whole … Miss Appleby knows Lord Cosgrave because she’s his secretary, so Lord Cosgrave thinks he’s having sex with a stranger, when actually he’s having sex with someone he already knows, albeit someone he knows when they’re literally transformed into a man by magic? Is that okay? Like can you meaningfully consent to bang someone when you don’t have a full understanding of who they are and who they are is kind of Mystique from X-Men but neither blue nor naked?
Which brings me to the really awkward bit which is that Cosgrave just kinda loses his shit when he finds out that his secretary and his bangee are the same person, assuming that (on the basis of zero evidence) the male secretary is Miss Appleby’s “true” self, and the woman he is sleeping with is a figment created by the man for the purpose of getting into Cosgrove’s pants. And the fact Cosgrave feels he has been TRICKED INTO GAY is kind of the whole dark moment—and he has to go punch a punching bag in his basement to unleash his rage and fury at having been TRICKED IN THE GAY. And, oh God, I don’t know. It’s just all really no homo and trans panicky and erk?
Because the thing is, even though Miss Appleby is definitely a ciswoman who assumes other forms by magic, the book just seems to be (I think accidentally?) leaning hard into some really uncomfortable-making ideas. I mean, given I was asking questions about whether Cosgrove could have given meaningful consent above, I’m not saying he doesn’t have reason to feel betrayed or withheld from. But his whole deal is that Miss Appleby is “really” a man who has made him DO THE GAY. And I kind of lose myself in the gender dynamics here because while I know it’s literally shape-shifting faery magic there’s still context and implication and the real world to think about it.
Cosgrave finally reconciles with Miss Appleby because she literally saves his life but also because he recognises that she was “really” a woman all along. But why is Miss Appleby “really” a woman?
Because her body is biologically that of a woman? But her body is biologically that of a man when she transforms. Because she identifies as a woman? But she told him she was a woman when he realises who she is and he didn’t believe her (because, apparently, he gets to decide that somehow). Because she was in the body of a cis-gendered woman before she used faery magic to transform herself into a cis-gendered man? I’m not sure I like the implications of that AT ALL. It seems to be adding up to an idea of gender as biological, immutable and, err, instinctively recognisable from the outside. And. Um. Ow?
And probably I’m down a rabbit hole of over-thinking. Because maybe gender-flipping faery magic is just gender-flipping faery magic, and that should be okay. It’s just, right now, with the world as it is, I’m not sure it IS okay. I don’t know. I just don’t know.
(Also just to stray even further out of my lane, there's a lot of talk about the abolitionist movement in this book but not a single POC as far as the eye can see--which sort of transforms slavery into a moral problem for rich white men).