Have you ever read a novel without knowing whether it was written by a man or a woman?

I got 90% of the way into a novel without knowing, but just vaguely assuming the author was male because the first name just struck me as a man's name, even though it was a name I hadn't seen before. I started wondering why that impression stuck with me when the novel was written from the point of view of a female character (though not in the first person).

Eventually, I looked it up and saw that it was in fact a man, which perhaps is why I never developed enough curiosity to look it up. On some intuitive level, I "knew" and nothing ever made me lose that feeling, though in the end I looked it up to confirm my assumption. But I wonder what gave me the impression? It's not that I ever thought the author doesn't really understand how a woman feels or is missing descriptions of details of things a woman would think of including.

Here's the book. I read it simply because I'd seen the movie and was curious about some of the character's motivations. As usual, the book is better than the movie, and the movie was, essentially, perfect. Isn't it a marvel that one person, with nothing but words, can do so much more than the hundreds of people who work together to make a movie?