Is fiction too female-coded?

perhaps it's time for some literary manspreading

Happy Sunday, everyone. Here’s a cultural issue I’ve been thinking about.

A couple of years ago, I belonged to a book club where I was the only guy. We’d meet monthly, eat tacos or pizza, and talk about whatever novel we were reading that month. Most of the books were popular fiction novels centered on female protagonists, like Laura David’s, The Last Thing He Told Me. One time, when it was my turn to choose a book, I searched for a male version of Reece Witherspoon’s or Oprah’s book clubs for ideas. All I found was the Andrew Luck Book Club, hosted by the former NFL quarterback, but it had shut down in 2020. It felt like spaces for male-focused fiction were a literary food desert, but I shrugged it off.

Lately, I’ve been wondering: Has fiction become too female-coded — an activity associated with women? And if so, does it matter? As I encourage my seven-year-old son on his reading journey, these questions have gained new currency. My preliminary answer is, yes, fiction has become female-coded and that this is a potentially harmful and self-reinforcing cultural trend for everyone. My sense is that men need to manspread in fiction more, both reading and writing. The bench is empty, bros. We can claim more space without harming women. Seize it.

It’s no secret men read less than women, but I’ve been noticing it more lately. For instance, every summer, I spend time at the Russian River in northern California. At the beach, I always see women sitting in the sun, feet soaking in water, with a novel in their hand. Men, not so much. Same thing Florida, where I live: women lounge with a novel, men usually without.

In social interactions, I notice this too. Women talk about books, know the bestsellers, and share recommendations. The most voracious readers I know — who power through multiple books a month — are almost all women. Men, including myself, lean toward nonfiction or don’t read as often.¹ If they read fiction at all, they are quieter about it.

These observations are anecdotal, but statistics back them up. Women make up 80 percent of worldwide fiction sales.² Around 11 percent of women read 31 or more books a year, compared to five percent of men.³ Globally, there’s a gender gap in reading, and boys lag girls in reading skills.⁴ Men are more likely to not read any books than women.⁵

The publishing industry isn’t helping. Women now dominate literary fiction, and while some celebrate this after centuries of being shut out, it’s worth asking if the pendulum has swung too far in the other direction.⁶ It’s no secret that recent decades have seen an institutional bias in publishing against male perspectives at all levels — awards, publishing deals, media coverage — in favor of female and “diverse voices.” White and hetero male perspectives are sidelined, including working-class voices. As a result, young male writers who don’t embrace favored identity politics are giving up on literary fiction altogether.

In other words, the gender gap is not just about demand — it’s about supply too. The industry caters less to normative men, and many male writers are gradually bailing. Alex Perez, a graduate of the Iowa Writer’s Workshop, argues that the literary establishment shows open contempt for masculine fiction and American male writers. I recommend his essay, “The American Man is the Problem.” Chris Jesu Lee, a writer in New York City, notes how men are caught between an internal culture that rejects weakness and a broader culture that perceives honest straight-guy sexual expression as problematic. I also recommend his essay, “About a Boyhood Essay.”

Some might ask, why do these trends matter? They matter because fiction shapes culture, empathy, and conversation. If men disengage from reading and writing fiction, the reading gap will get worse, boys like my seven-year-old son will see reading as a “girl thing,” and our society will suffer culturally, intellectually and socially. Fewer men will explore complex truths of our lives, leading to two-dimensional portrayals, stupid stereotypes, and less cross-gender understanding. Some will turn to darker media, where subcultures like incels thrive.

To be clear, I am not saying women are the problem or trying to take away from their success. And I am not saying men need to be more like women in their tastes. My concern is that the female-coding of fiction is becoming self-reinforcing: Fewer men read fiction, hence the industry produces fewer male-oriented works; the industry stacks the deck against men, hence fewer men write fiction. The cost isn’t just to men but to society, which would miss opportunities for empathy, emotional understanding, and literacy.

Fiction is oxygen for culture and the human experience. It is generative and life-giving. It gives us an outlet for expression, empathy, and growth. It fosters a richer and more inclusive society. Fiction is a holy river we should all swim in. It is our Ganges, but cleaner. Fiction is life.

As a gay guy who’s a slow reader and not very literary, the female-coding of fiction doesn’t deter me, though I would appreciate more quality, male voices. Fiction is demographically like yoga and Stanley water bottles, both of which I enjoy. But as a dad and citizen, I see the female-coding of fiction as a cultural trend that could be harmful.

Some of you may have heard the expression “queering the space.” It’s when LGBT people challenge or disrupt the heteronormativity of a space, making it OK to be queer. My sense is that men need to do the hetero-masculine equivalent of queering the space in fiction. Read more, write more, and, yes, take up space. Uncross the legs and manspread on the literary scene. I love my female authors and even the occasional chick lit, but Reece’s Book Club could use some testosterone-friendly competition.

1. All it takes to be in the top 50% of American readers is to read one book a year. Reading 50 books puts you in the top 1%. See Washington Post article

2. Basmo stats and Toner Buzz stats

3. Statista stats

4. Deloitte report

5. According to a 2021 Pew survey, 27% of men in the U.S. reported that they had not read a book in any format (print, digital, or audiobook) over the past year, compared to 19% of women.

6. Guardian article