‘They wrote about my honey blond hair flying in the breeze, my silver skate blades flashing, my plucky work in the corners, my style, my stamina, my milky blue eyes, my taut ass and firm breasts, the nightmarish bruises on my downy white thighs . . .’
This men-writing-as-women business is hardly new. The above is from the original dust-jacket copy, quoting from the book itself, of Amazons, 1980, by Cleo Birdwell. First-person narration by a female ice-hockey player. That particular CB – there are lots – was Don DeLillo.
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