Gender Identity and Performance in Cleopatra and Frankenstein

The Masks We Wear: Gender as Performed Identity

Coco Mellors’ debut novel Cleopatra and Frankenstein dissects the ways characters adopt gendered masks—sometimes consciously, sometimes unconsciously—to navigate love, ambition, and trauma. The novel’s central claim is that gender is not a fixed essence but a performance, often at odds with a character’s internal sense of self. Through the arcs of Cleo, Quentin, and Frank, Mellors shows how the pressure to conform to gendered expectations can both shield and wound, and how moments of authenticity emerge when those masks are set aside.

Cleo: Reluctant Femininity and the Battle to Be Seen

From her first encounter with Frank in the freight elevator, Cleo signals her discomfort with traditional femininity. On their New Year's Eve walk, she jokes about her sexual desire using deliberately crude metaphors (a “carry-all of cock,” a “backpack of boners”)—language that subverts the demure, passive sexuality expected of women. She also dismisses Frank’s curiosity about her “orgasms” with a sardonic, matter-of-fact tone, refusing to perform coyness. Her British accent and artistic identity further mark her as an outsider to the polished, consumerist femininity of New York’s social scene.

Later, after separating from Frank, Cleo cuts her hair short and creates the installation Life Lines, which confronts her suicide attempt. The short hair is a visual rejection of the long, “feminine” mane she had before; it signals a reclamation of her body on her own terms. In Rome, when Frank visits, she wears her art—painted jackets—as armor. The blue slip dress she wears to the gallery opening in May (a symbol of her earlier self) is replaced by silk wrap jackets splashed with peacocks and crows: a costume that is both beautiful and defiant. Cleo’s performance of femininity is always self-aware and incomplete, a mask she can put on or take off depending on the audience.

Quentin: The Confession of a Wrong-Bodied Self

Quentin provides the novel’s most explicit exploration of gender identity. In a pivotal moment (occurring offstage but referenced later), he confesses that he should have been born a girl. This statement reframes much of his behavior: his flamboyant style, his close friendship with Cleo, his use of women’s clothing as self-expression. At the party on Randall’s Island in May, Quentin wears a corset top, leather jacket, high-heeled motorcycle boots, and black glitter on his eyelids. Cleo notices he has never worn women’s clothing outside his home before; she is careful not to react with surprise, understanding the risk he is taking. His choice to perform femininity publicly is both a liberation and a vulnerability—it draws attention, and later his addiction to methamphetamine worsens, suggesting that gender performance alone cannot resolve his inner pain.

Quentin’s relationship with Alex further complicates the theme. Alex is drawn to Quentin partly because of Quentin’s Eastern European heritage (Alex mistakes him for Russian), and later dresses in Quentin’s “old boy clothes.” This swapping of gendered attire becomes a way for both men to explore identity, but also a source of tension. Quentin’s gender performance is never merely playful; it is tied to his desire to be seen as his true self, even when that self is messy and destructive.

Frank and Anders: Masculinity as a Costume

Frank initially performs the role of the confident, successful advertising executive. He wins awards (a Cannes Lion), makes jokes about drinking heavily, and presents himself as a provider—offering to fly Cleo to Mexico. Yet his masculinity is a fragile front. When Cleo asks what he wants to know about her, he responds by listing clichés (horoscope, birthstone, shoe size), revealing his reliance on scripted performance. His vulnerability emerges only in sobriety: after quitting alcohol, he admits he is “just stressed about work” and later tells Cleo she is one of the five people he watches. The murmuration of starlings—a symbol of collective, fluid movement—represents the dissolution of his rigid masculine mask.

Anders, by contrast, embodies toxic masculinity as a performance. His internal monologue reveals violent, misogynistic fantasies about Cleo, which he imagines while masturbating in a restaurant bathroom. He treats women as objects (his ex-wife Christine, his niece’s friend), yet he also feels inadequate—he sees his younger self in a modeling photo credited under another man’s name, underscoring his belief that identity itself is interchangeable and fake. Anders’ gender performance is a defense against his own vulnerability, but it costs him genuine connection.

Zoe and Eleanor: The Double Bind of Female Performance

Zoe articulates the novel’s central dilemma for women: “what men feared most was pity, and what women feared most was envy.” She knows her beauty makes her a target; she performs a “prettier than most” persona while craving female friendship. Her conversation on the fire escape with Cleo and Audrey reveals how women learn to deflect compliments and compete, a performance that protects them from envy but also isolates them.

Eleanor navigates a different performance: the professional woman in a male-dominated advertising world. At the office Christmas party, she wears a sparkly dress, attempts small talk, and awkwardly compliments Cleo’s hair. She also pursues Frank, but only after establishing her own career success (her animated show Human Garbage sells). Eleanor’s gender performance is strategic: she must balance competence with likability, ambition with warmth.

Complexity and Contradiction

Mellors refuses to offer easy conclusions. Cleo’s short hair and aggressive art do not make her happy; they are part of a recovery that remains unfinished. Quentin’s cross-dressing coexists with his drug addiction, and his gender identity is not presented as the cause of his pain, nor as a simple solution. Frank’s sobriety and new relationship with Eleanor allow him to perform a softer masculinity, but his bond with Cleo endures—suggesting that authentic connection can exist alongside performed roles.

The symbol of the Fabergé egg—a precious, decorative object with a hidden interior—mirrors the theme: characters present a beautiful exterior while concealing their true, often broken, selves. The blue slip dress that Cleo wears early in the marriage is a costume of wifely seduction; later, her painted jackets are costumes of artistic rebellion. Neither is more “real” than the other—both are performances, chosen for different audiences.

The sugar glider Jesus—a pet that Cleo and Frank acquire—is a creature that clings and glides but cannot truly fly, much like the characters’ gender performances: they allow movement and survival, but not genuine transcendence.

Study Questions and Answers

1. How does Cleo’s discomfort with traditional femininity manifest in her conversation with Frank on New Year’s Eve?
She uses deliberately crude, humorous language about sex (e.g., “a backpack of boners”) to subvert the passive, demure role expected of women. She also deflects his curiosity about her personal life by changing the subject, refusing to perform the role of the open, vulnerable romantic interest.

2. What does Quentin’s decision to wear women’s clothing to the Randall’s Island party reveal about his character?
It shows his growing willingness to publicly express his gender identity, even at personal risk. Cleo notes it is the first time he has worn such clothes outside his home, indicating a milestone in his self-acceptance. However, his addiction simultaneously worsens, suggesting that outward performance alone cannot resolve inner turmoil.

3. In what way does Frank’s masculinity change after he stops drinking?
He becomes more vulnerable, admitting his fears and visiting Cleo at her residency even though it is painful. The murmuration of starlings becomes a symbol of his new, fluid sense of self—less rigid, more willing to be part of a collective rather than a lone performer.

4. How does the novel complicate the idea that gender performance is entirely voluntary?
Characters like Zoe and Eleanor perform femininity because society rewards them for it, but they also experience loneliness and pressure. Quentin’s cross-dressing is both liberating and risky; Anders’ hypermasculinity is a defense against his own inadequacy. The novel suggests that while performance is a choice, the consequences are often beyond the performer’s control.

5. Analyze the final scene between Frank and Cleo in Rome through the lens of gender performance.
Both have shed earlier masks: Cleo has cut her hair and created art that reveals her trauma; Frank is sober and admits his love without claiming possession. They watch starlings together—a symbol of collective, non-hierarchical movement. The scene suggests that genuine connection occurs when performances are set aside, even if only temporarily.