As a man, my opinions in this piece stem from a place of concern for the dwindling participation of male folk in bookish communities and the literary space as a whole.
As such, let not my words be misconstrued as an attack on the female species, or a downplaying of their efforts to keep the literary hearth burning.
Everywhere I turn, it’s women. Women writing works of literature. Women promoting works of literature. Women yapping about their favourite reads. Women turning up for book club meetings. Women this, women that.
And, while this trend, of itself, is a great thing, it only highlights a worrying propensity of one full half of the human species to disregard arguably one of the most vital disciplines to the survival of humanity itself.
In every bookish gathering, I struggle to find men. Within book communities, it’s tough to find men with the same zeal for literature that many women have.
Why’s this the case?
For many African men, labor market dynamics are to blame for their dwindling interest in bookish affairs. With societal expectations to succeed financially and otherwise hovering like a ticking time bomb over the heads of many, the pressure to earn and be a man, as it were, is the alluded single most pressing deterrent to the increased participation of men in literary affairs.
But, on a closer look, this excuse, while valid for many reasons, appears to be a smokescreen for many former male literary enthusiasts, who have slowly allowed their zeal for reading to be eroded by other interests, such as gaming and womanizing.
There is another category of men in this matter: the ones who have become outright literary heretics. The ones who see participation in book communities as a “girl” thing, who, with their twisted ideas of masculinity, look down on such acts.
Then, there is the category of men who were never readers to begin with, but who, in their book snobbery, see literary fiction as a waste of time, a dreamy world ideal for idlers and women, who, to them, have little real-world responsibility save to maintain their titles as mistresses of the domains of the kitchen and bedroom.
I could go on about the many reasons that African, especially Nigerian men, are increasingly reading less literature than their female counterparts. But, whatever the excuse, it is clear that as long as the trend continues, disaster looms.
Already, the implications are becoming apparent.
In literature and publishing, the proliferation of predominantly female-authored narratives is lending a lopsided effect to the perception of “African Literature” among global audiences.
The rest of the world is slowly associating “African Literature” with stories of female abuse, feminism, and little else. While these themes are certainly valid and major talking points in these times, it is essential to remember that there are several other African narratives that few, if any, are discussing.
Female authors are playing their part. The male authors, while still holding their own, need more representation.
While the genre is slowly becoming more diversified, with the default literary fiction slowly giving way to genre fiction, there lingers a perceived staleness to several mainstream literary works that translates to the alienation of a significant chunk of the average African readership.
Female narratives appeal to a certain kind of audience, while male-authored narratives appeal to another kind. While it’s far from a black-and-white situation, with several overlaps, the fact remains that to cater to the entirety of reading tastes, male-authored books need to be propagated in roughly the same quantity as their mainstream female counterparts.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that men don’t write. But, to better get my point, I urge you to randomly reel off the first ten most popular African Literature works you know off the top of your head.
How many of them are male-authored?
Another worrying implication of the decrease in male interest in literary affairs is that there are far fewer active male writers than there are female authors.
It is a known fact that the best writers are readers. So, how else will we get the next generation of male writers when contemporary men are barely reading literature?
Men are reading less and less. Look around you! On social media, in physical literary spaces, women front almost everything! I’m not sure whether this is the trend in other parts of the world, but in Nigeria and English-speaking Africa as a whole, this holds true!
The few who attend book club meetings or literary festivals often do so at the bidding of their female counterparts, or for obvious, ulterior motives.
Erm, so, at this point, what started out as an objective piece is fast threatening to become an impassioned rant, so I’ll put a pause to this.
Once again, I shall insist that this article is in no way to slight the achievements of the fairer species, who continue to fly the literary flag locally and internationally.
Rather, my piece is meant to be a wake-up call to men to play their part in promoting literature and resurrect that slumbering part of their being that has forgotten the beauty of the literary arts.
Be a man! Read a book today!
