The double standard for men’s and women’s reputations has been a part of our society for a very long time. Women who dated different men used to get quite a bad reputation (e.g., a ‘loose’ woman or worse). Men who had a series of relationships might be considered ‘cads,’ but secretly, they were often thought of as more ‘manly.’ Whether or not that’s still the case depends on your point of view, and probably also on the culture in which you live. But it’s hard to deny that this double standard has had a strong and arguably damaging impact. It’s certainly true in real life, and it’s true in crime fiction, too.

For instance, one of the characters in Agatha Christie’s Evil Under the Sun is famous actress Arlena Stuart Marshall. She’s gotten quite a notorious reputation, and when she travels with her husband and stepdaughter to the Jolly Roger Hotel on Leathercombe Bay, the other guests spend their share of time gossiping about her. She seems to live up (or down?) to their preconceptions, too, as she starts a not-too-hidden affair with another guest, Patrick Redfern. She’s slammed as ‘loose,’ as a gold digger, and more. Late one morning, her body is discovered on a beach not far from the hotel, and it’s obvious she was murdered. Hercule Poirot is staying at the same hotel, and he works with the local police to find out who the killer is. As it turns out, the case is a bit more complicated than a notorious woman getting her just deserts.

At the same time, in Christie’s Three Act Tragedy, we meet Hermione ‘Egg’ Lytton Gore, who gets mixed up in a case of multiple murders by poison. Two take place at cocktail parties and one at a private hospital. Egg is no ‘shrinking violet;’ in fact, she wants to find out who the murderer is. She works with Hercule Poirot and Mr. Satterthwaite to find out the truth behind the killings. At one point, she’s talking with Mr. Satterthwaite about famous actor Sir Charles Cartwright, at whose home the first murder occurs. She tells Satterthwaite,

‘I like men to have lots of affairs.’

To her, it’s a sign of, well, manliness. There are other Christie stories, too, that portray this double standard (right, fans of Five Little Pigs?).

We also see this sort of double standard in the work of Ellery Queen. Two novels, Calamity Town and The Fourth Side of the Triangle, feature strong female characters who also have reputations some would call notorious. In Calamity Town, Lola Wright has more or less had to leave her small town because of her reputation. In The Fourth Side of the Triangle, we meet famous fashion designer Sheila Grey. She’s had several lovers, and there are plenty who think of her as notorious. Her fame keeps her safe from the full brunt of that prejudice, but it’s still there. When Dane McKell finds out that his father Ashton may be having an affair, he decides to find out who the other woman is. He finds out that it’s Sheila and finds himself drawn to her. Sheila’s very modern and independent views of sex and marriage are portrayed negatively – certainly Dane disagrees with them. At the same time, while he believes his father has treated his mother badly, he also sees why a man like his father might have an affair with Sheila. When she is murdered, Dane, his father, and his mother all become suspects. Inspector Richard Queen takes the case, and of course, his son Ellery works with him. In the end, we see the impact of Sheila’s reputation.

There’s a fascinating example of the double standard in Dorothy L. Sayers’ Strong Poison. Harriet Vane is a crime novelist who is on trial for murdering her former lover Phillip Boyes, also a writer. One of the things that makes this case especially lurid is that Harriet lived with her lover, something that ‘nice girls’ simply don’t do. She’s gotten a very notorious reputation and a lot of people think she’s guilty just on that score. On the other hand, there’s sympathy for Boyes – he’s very much seen as the victim, although if you don’t believe in unmarried cohabitation, they’re both guilty. Lord Peter Wimsey has become infatuated with Harriet and determines to clear her name so that he can marry her. He’s going to have to work fast, because he’s only got a month…

Sara Blaedel’s The Killing Forest introduces Sune Frandsen, a fifteen-year-old boy living in the small Danish town of Hvalsø. When he goes missing, Louise Rick and her partner Eik, who work with Denmark’s Special Search Agency, take charge of the search for him. Their first step is to talk to people who last saw the boy; those interviews and other clues lead to an ancient Viking ritual and some past murders. One of the things that becomes a part of the investigation is the question of what it means to become ‘a man.’ It’s an interesting discussion, and it reflects in a way some of the double standard attitudes people have had as they think about what men and women ‘should’ do.

Perhaps this double standard is part of the reason for which Kerry Greenwood’s Phryne Fisher is such a unique character. She is a ‘lady detective’ in 1920’s Melbourne, at a time when women were expected to behave modestly, even if they sometimes broke social rules (e.g., smoking). Phryne doesn’t feel bound by those conventions. She’s had several lovers and doesn’t make much of an effort to hide the fact. For some, this is a bit scandalous, but having people gossip about her doesn’t particularly bother Phryne. It’s an interesting look at a woman who doesn’t really mind having ‘that sort of’ reputation.

There are plenty of other examples of novels – even contemporary ones – where there’s a double standard when it comes to what’s expected of men and women. It does impact people’s assumptions at times, and it certainly plays a role in the genre.

*NOTE: The title of this post is the title of a song by Joan Jett.