"You know, I used to be quite a looker"

There’s an in-depth investigation in the New Yorker today about a male novelist who has the same name as me and has (apparently) made a history of fabricating events about his personal life in order to inflate his reputation as a writer, so forgive me if I seem a bit shaken. It’s not every day one’s doppelgänger is taken to account, and it’s hard not to read an opening sentence like “Dan Mallory, a book editor turned novelist, is tall, good-looking, and clever,” without feeling like you’re next in line for disaster. I had a fairly unique name for a woman, and a relatively commonplace one for a man, and now the only other man who shares both is being exposed as a charming fraud, and if you don’t think that sums up a whole host of particularly transmasculine anxieties, baby, you’ve never transitioned from female to male!

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