Previously: Forced-masc fantasies in Georgette Heyer. The particular cruelty of Rebecca’s forced-masc fantasies focus on defaults; unless someone is the most extremely woman person to ever live, they’re rounded down to a sort of malfunctioning boy and stashed in an attic somewhere. The premise is something like this:
Real talk: I thought the protagonist of Rebecca *was* a man until pretty much the marriage proposal. My reading comprehension was not that bad, and now I feel vindicated.
du Marnier, too? I was not ready for this—I'm still _reeling_ from learning that Katharine Hepburn may have been a closeted transmasc (I have no idea if this is true—I saw it in a Tumblr post of unclear attribution and veracity—but I want it to be true more than anything else). This is simply far too many feelings for this early in the day.