Even though I am not a man, I have what many consider to be a masculine mind. My thought process is more logical than emotional, my interest in things spurred by the logical and mechanical progression than by the creative, and I excelled at sciences while in school. In high school, my aptitude tests ranked me in the 99 percentile for spacial relation, cause/effect, and other metacognitive abilities necessary for a mechanical or civil engineer. I do not find this surprising, as I come from a long line of engineers.
The love of language can be viewed as a science. I was interested in the proper use of words, their origin and transitional meanings, their placement in a sentence and its impact on the "mental movie." Without consciously recognizing it, I studied the written word for structure, the narrative voice used to convey the story, the development of the characters, and the logical progression of events.
This love of language invariably leads many to examine how others use it to convey their thoughts, which can quickly blossom into a love of literature in general.
While I do not presume to place myself in their category by any means, great writers have all of these things. There is a cadence to their stories, a sometimes painfully slow development of their characters that is nonetheless worth the pain, and a logical construct of the plotline.
This is not to say that great writers choose a formula for their works, but instead their writing style is a formulation of these things. BIG DIFFERENCE.
If we examine Hawthorne's "The Scarlett Letter," for example, an often overlooked aspect of this book is the changing narrative perspective. The book rotates its focal point by three - first the "townspeople," then Hester, then the immediate circle around Hester, back to the "townspeople," repeat the cycle.
This construct was necessary for Hawthorne to explain the full impact of Hester's actions not just on herself but on those around her. In less logical hands, it would have been a silly romance novel. While I have no proof, I believe this construct was intuitive at first, and then a progressively logical outgrowth as the story unfolded.
In Melville's "Moby Dick," considered by many as a masterpeice in literature, each chapter is a short-story within itself, plumbing the topic at hand with a consistent narrative voice, but a differing tone to convey the underlying sentiment. At the same time, each slowly advances the overall story.
If you have ever pulled back from a book and said, "WTF?" at an odd plot twist, silly surprise, out-of-character action by one of the key players, or other event that seemed implausible or ridiculous, you are in the hands of a skilled (but still novice) writer.
If you have ever pulled back from a book and said, "My God!", you are in the hands of a master.
Despite garnering over 45% of the market share, I cannot stomach the vast majority of dreck masquarading as "romance novels." They are silly, inconsistent bits of fluff. Conversely, I am quite drawn to romantic storylines woven by men, as they tend to be neither silly nor inconsistent.
If you look at science fiction, fantasy, or horror writers, where the reader is asked to suspend reality for the purposes of accepting the parameters of the story, there are typically boundaries (written or implied). Great writers will create masterpieces within these boundaries, novices will set up boundaries and then break them for convenience. Not surprisingly, the vast majority of great sci-fi/fantasy/horror writers are men, because they do not break their boundaries.
While not detracting from the achievements of many accomplished female writers, I hope that the above helps to clarify why men would be drawn to the science of language, the love of literature, and ultimately pen the majority of the world's great masterpeices.
Excellent observations. Of course there are great female authors, so it's not exactly fair to paint the entire gender with one brush. But I think women's pragmatism stems from the fact that females, as a sex, evolved as specialists, designed for a specific function, which not only makes them vulnerable, but makes them lean toward perspectives that redound to their safety and security. Men, on the other hand, have got to take risks, because if they don't (and this is a gross oversimplification) there might not be food on the table for tomorrow, or the tribe next door might wipe you out.