The fratire writers are cyber-characters, who hold themselves up as a paragon of backlash — cocksure in the discovery that the more misogynistic they are, the more attractive women seem to find them.

Yet how new is this genre? And is it just an attempt to make publishing dollars out of the baser elements of masculinity? It seems to hark back to an era well before lad mags were conceived. Many of the fratire books are infused with a nostalgia for 1950s archetypes of a rudely authentic masculinity.
—Christopher Turner, "Boys behaving badly score their own literary genre," The Guardian, April 22, 2006

I was actually struggling somewhat with the headline here. "The Newest Literary Craze" actually sounded better to the ear, but in this case, even those who contribute to this new genre admit, it's not terribly "literary". So what is "fratire"? It's what many call the equivalent of chick lit for men. What does this include? From what I've read, stories, some autobiographical, of men getting drunk, manipulating and "scoring" with women and other exhibitions of masculine prowess. Is this literature or a college guy's account of his weekend?
—gom jabbar, "fratire: A Hot New Genre Craze," Blogger Party, April 20, 2006

Young men, long written off by publishers as simply uninterested in reading, are driving sales of a growing genre of books like Mr. Max's that combine a fraternity house-style celebration of masculinity with a mocking attitude toward social convention, traditional male roles and aspirations of power and authority.

With titles like "Real Ultimate Power," a satirical ode to the masculine prowess of ninjas; "The Modern Drunkard," a paean to getting hammered; and "The Game," a manual for manipulating and bedding women, they collectively represent the once-elusive male counterpart to so-called chick lit, and so perhaps deserve a cheesy epithet of their own. How about: fratire.
—Warren St. John, "Dude, Here's My Book," The New York Times, April 16, 2006