A new publisher will focus on books by men. Are male writers and readers under threat?

A new publisher, Conduit Books, founded by UK novelist and critic Jude Cook, will focus on publishing literary fiction and memoirs by men: at least initially. Conduit is currently seeking its launch title, “preferably a debut novel by a male UK novelist under 35”. It aims to publish three books a year from 2026. Diminishing attention is now paid to male authors, Cook feels, creating a need for “an independent publisher that champions literary fiction by men”.

This argument has been made closer to home, too. Earlier this year, Australian poet and fiction writer Michael Crane bemoaned the diminishing space and attention for male authors, claiming to be unfairly overlooked as a white male author over 50.

Are there declining numbers of male authors in Australia and elsewhere? How is this reflected in prizes, readership statistics and sales? And if less men than women are reading, particularly literary fiction, then might this be a logical outcome of a gender divide in demand and engagement?

Prizes, working writers and sales

While more focused on age than gender, Crane noted “most books published locally are by women”. He also argued female writers have recently come to dominate the Miles Franklin Literary Award shortlist.

There is some truth in this: since 2012, the year the Stella Prize was founded, there have been 12 women winners of the Miles Franklin and just one man. In the equivalent preceding period (1999–2011), there were ten men and three women. So, there has been a change – even a flip – in the past decade or so.

That said, older male authors have historically been overrepresented in literary culture, both within Australia and globally. The shift seems, in part, a correction.

While the number of working writers in Australia has grown steadily since 1983, the percentage of male writers has diminished: from 55% (in 1988) to just 17% (as of 2023), according to a recent Creative Australia study of Australian professional artists.

Looking at last week’s Australian bestseller list, topped by US self-help guru Mel Robbins’ Let Them Theory, eight of ten authors are women. The bestseller list for Australian writers only, topped by colouring-in book Cosy Calm, is further dominated by women: no male writers are represented in the top ten.

Last year’s overall top ten bestseller list in Australia reads similarly: seven titles were authored by women. Two of these, ranked first and second, were RecipeTin Eats cookbooks by Nagi Maehashi.

In the UK, too, female authors are increasingly dominating publishing lists and the space and attention for male authors has dwindled. New and established male authors lack the “cultural buzz” associated with female authors like Sally Rooney, who have arguably captured the literary zeitgeist, wrote literary critic Johanna Thomas-Corr in the Guardian.

On the other hand, in the period when Australia’s leading literary prize had 12 women and one male winner (2012–24), the Man Booker Prize was still narrowly dominated by men, with eight male and six female winners. (Two women, Bernardine Evaristo and Margaret Atwood, shared the 2019 prize.)

And in the US during that period, the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction was heavily dominated by men, with nine male and four female winners. (The 2023 prize was shared, between Barbara Kingsolver and Hernan Diaz.) The 2025 Pulitzer was announced today: the fiction winner is Percival Everett, for James.

Do men need better stories?

While Cook’s project has its sceptics, it seems well intentioned. As Cook notes, current conversations around toxic masculinity make it more important than ever to “pay attention to what young men are reading”. Other commentators have argued the decline of male authors and readers is a cause for concern, too.

In recent months, Las Vegas English professor David J. Morris argued in the New York Times that dwindling interest in literary fiction represents emotional, cultural and educational regression among men in the United States. He notes women readers now account for about 80% of US fiction sales.

The alienated, disaffected young men who have been drawn to the “manosphere” and contributed to Trump’s second election win “need better stories – and they need to see themselves as belonging to the world of storytelling”. He makes a good case for the importance of literary fiction in developing emotional intelligence – and that the decline in male readership is therefore troubling.

Cook seems to agree: he believes important narratives and voices are being overlooked. He is keen to publish novels and stories that focus on fatherhood, masculinity, working-class life, relationships and other topics that relate to “navigating the 21st century as a man”.

He stresses, however, that Conduit Books is not taking an “adversarial stance”. It will “not exclude writers of colour, or queer, non-binary and neurodivergent authors”.

Women read more than men

A February 2025 Australia Reads survey indicates “avid readers” (who regularly start new books and read daily) are predominantly women, whereas “ambivalent readers” and “uninterested non-readers” were far more likely to be men.

Furthermore, recent research suggests there is still a significant gender bias in male reading habits. Men made up less than 20% of the readership for the top ten bestselling titles by female authors, Nielsen Bookscan data revealed in 2023. Conversely, the readership for bestselling titles by male authors was more evenly split: 56% men and 44% women.

Women, on balance, read far more than men do, and are much more willing to read books by men than men are to read books by women. It would be fair to say all writers of literary fiction are largely dependent on a predominately female audience – and have been for a long time.

Back in 2005, when male writers were not exactly underrepresented in the literary marketplace, UK novelist Ian McEwan embarked on an experiment. Seeking to clear out some shelf space, he took a stack of novels to a nearby park and attempted to give them away to passersby. The free books were happily accepted by women, but he failed to give away a single title to a man. McEwan gloomily concluded: “when women stop reading, the novel will be dead”.

Publishing and demand

Cook believes works by men that grapple with themes especially relevant to male readers are “not being commissioned” in the current literary environment.

A 2020 diversity study reported 78% of editorial staff in the UK are women (though the same study indicates just under half of senior management roles in publishing are still occupied by men).

An anonymous male publisher told the Guardian a few years ago “the exciting writing is coming from women right now”, but this was “because there aren’t that many men around. Men aren’t coming through.”

Another publisher, from literary imprint Serpent’s Tail, said: “If a really good novel by a male writer lands on my desk, I do genuinely say to myself, this will be more difficult to publish.”

Sales figures seem to back this. The Guardian calculated, based on figures from the Bookseller, that 629 of the 1,000 bestselling fiction titles from 2020 were written by women, with 341 authored by men (27 were co-authored by men and women, and three were by non-binary writers). Of course, many still read the historical literary canon, which is overwhelmingly male.

Cook seems to argue men are now less interested in literary fiction because there are fewer contemporary male authors, and they attract less commentary and acclaim. But it is just as likely female authors have become more prominent because women are consistently more engaged with literary fiction – and the publishing market is simply adapting to cater to its principal audience.

Can we bring back male readers?

So will publishing and promoting more men bring back male readers? Or does this just amount to a demand that the overwhelmingly female audience for literary fiction should pay more attention to male authors? As literary critic Thomas-Corr notes, regardless of authorship, a lot of men

couldn’t give a toss about fiction, especially literary fiction. They have video games, YouTube, nonfiction, podcasts, magazines, Netflix.

Male writers are still well represented in these mediums, so perhaps it may be as or more important to devote serious attention to their narratives and storytelling practices. Novels aren’t, after all, the only engines for emotional intelligence or empathy.

Cook’s initiative will at the very least create more discussion around the growing absence of male authors and readers in literary spaces, and will probably ensure the first few titles published by Conduit Press will be received with interest. But given contemporary reading demographics, it seems reasonable to expect male authors will occupy an increasingly niche space in literary publishing.

Julian Novitz does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.