Bridging the gap between craft development and published work, Cooper Lee is an independent press and school of writing and theory founded in 2025 by Dr Craig Snelgrove.

Manifesto

There are two commonly accepted facts we need to address:

1. Readership is in decline

2. Publishing models are failing.

Yet while both may be true, there are nuances to be found in the wider context. According to various online sources, over 700 million units of printed books were sold in 2025. This won’t be an accurate figure, of course. Such statistics are found only within the capitalist market and are, on the whole, tracked by US companies. But as an indicator into the general state of readership, it helps.

700 million may be a small number in terms of global human population, but 700 million in itself is not a small number. It’s a long way down to zero, put it that way. Consider also the books that were either sold outside of the capitalist market or books that were borrowed, given or found. The point is, a great many people still choose to read books, and the big question, really, is who these readers are, what they are reading, how books are accessed, and most importantly, who is writing and who gets to see their work in print and in book shops.

By far the lowest demographic of readers, and I don’t think you need statistics to know this, are young men. For clarity, we are talking men under 25, but you could push this up to men under 30, maybe even 40. To narrow the scope further, the number of male readers continues to reduce when you factor in class. Class remains, in our time, the number one cause of illiteracy and general disinterest in reading. There are numerous reasons we can point to, all of which relate to the society in which we live, and the cultural attitudes and approaches we take to class, and gender, race, etc within class. Due to gender-based stereotypes and misconceptions, for example, working-class boys are less likely to be given a book than working-class girls. A working-class lad who actually reads for pleasure is a rare thing.

Yet even if that is true, if we do, as a society, indirectly discourage reading in young boys, it barely scratches the surface of the problem. The biggest factor in readership decline over the last few decades is the emergence, and general preference, for visual and auditory mediums like TV, movies, music, video games, and social media platforms such as TikTok and Instagram. It is in these areas where the real problems lie. And though we can take a simplified approach and explain the preference for media in the ease of its consumption as visual and auditory stimuli, a proper diagnosis can only be done by assessing the use of these forms of entertainment, education, and pastimes within capitalist society. To approach the problem away from this (constructed) reality of our society, to palm it off in the capitalist realist mindset of “it’s just the way it is,” or “it’s just business” is akin to seeking a cure for cancer whilst denying that cancer exists. Such an approach is meaningless, useless even, as we are effectively operating within the problem itself. All we can attempt to do is manage it out of defeated acceptance, to find a way to survive because there are no other options. It’s just the way it is.

In The Society of the Spectacle (1967), Guy Debord identified capital as having accumulated “to the point that it becomes images;” but rather than being “a collection of images,” this Spectacle is the “social relation between people that is mediated (my use of italics) by images.” For Debord, the Spectacle is the culmination of commodity fetishism, the superseding of perceived value with appearances - the totalisation of commodity fetishism across all areas of social life, where images and representations of commodities are worth more than the commodity itself.

In such a society, where everything “that was directly lived has receded into a representation,” the appearance of something is worth more than the usage of said something. Nike trainers, for example, do the exact same thing as Ascot trainers, they may even look the same sometimes, but to be seen in Ascot trainers, to wear that brand, has lesser social value. The popularity of Nike trainers is more to do with the image of the trainer than with its uses. There is huge value in the brand itself, something that didn’t just happen, but was achieved at great expense through marketing campaigns: the generation of the image and the recurrence of it in daily life.

The very image of Nike is also an example of the image as a social mediator. Commonality is found in the wearing of Nike clothing. It may, in certain social groups/environments, make it easier to establish relationships. It may also put people off. Some people will associate Nike with social groups they themselves are not a part of, or even wary of. Though not so much nowadays, due to the success of the brand and the commonness of its logo, Nike is a signifier of coolness and uncoolness, of elevated social status and lowered social status. Effectively, Nike’s dominance of its market, and through its crossover into others, has succeeded in the making of the brand a regular feature of everyday life, so much so that it is now part of the fabric of society itself.

It is a sad fact for those of us who love literature that books have lesser social value than other, more easily consumable, forms of art, entertainment, and pastimes. To remedy this, writers and publishers adopt the tactics of Hollywood, resorting to marketable gimmicks, an over-emphasis on presentation (film trailer, poster, book cover), and the creation of stories with consideration as to what will sell. In essence, books exist within the spectacle, the commodity of everything, subjected to the same conditions as any other product. Writers write under the influence of the spectacle (an issue in itself), publishers act in compliance with it.

Some writers even accept the demand to cede creative control to publishers. A book, as commodity, may have great promise (in terms of saleability), but there could be an element of the text that could be seen as being problematic among wider audiences. Though a writer should take on feedback, the writer knows best when it comes to their own work. When writing, everything is done for a reason. Omitting something that would detract from the writing itself should be resisted aggressively by the writer. If that makes the work less marketable then so be it.

But what can be done when the capitalist model of our society is acknowledged as a fundamental factor in readership decline? When we recognise that the only difference between what is deemed most marketable is based purely on the superficial qualities of the product? That those superficial qualities are made up of conscious consideration for market demand? We ultimately have two choices. We can accept the absurdity of it, and the futility of competing in such a rigged space, with an awareness of that absurdity, and carry on regardless in acquiescence with the endless conditions and concessions that determine the marketable success of a book. Or we can play the game according to our own rules.

Certain standards of book publishing are merely an insistence on the superficial. Yes, books must have some basic level of presentation. They have to be readable and linguistically correct (note that linguistically correct relates to narrative style as well as correct use of language – it may be that a narrator speaks in a grammatically incorrect way due to a regional dialect, or they may speak in a vernacular that exists only in the world of the book). But there is lots of money, and time, wasted on the commodification of books, a spectacle logic applied to the production of them that detracts from the substance of the text. Many will disagree, but what is typically published by mainstream publishers is based solely on its marketable potential. In other words, how closely aligned the book is to current spectacle trends.

Yet in the society of the spectacle, books will always be treated as lesser than. In the grand scheme of things, a book, in particular a novel, cannot compete, in this society, with the movie or TV show. The average person is far more likely, after a long day, or when at rest, to engage with the least challenging form of visual or auditory stimuli. Reading requires effort, a certain level of concentration, that the average person just doesn’t have the time or energy for.

This isn’t said as an insult, by the way. It’s not that people are more stupid these days (though it can sometimes feel like that). The simple fact is that we are, as a society, over-worked and over-stimulated for long periods of time. And yes, the brain rot that is prime time TV, for example, is part of that over-stimulation, but it is a lulling one, far less demanding than the book. No matter how exciting a book may be, for the non-reader it’ll have you falling asleep within minutes. Heavy on the eyes is the written word.

It should also be said that attempting to compete within the spectacle, as a book publisher of any kind, is a noble cause. But it is one that can only achieve limited success. For books to remain a relevant part of this society in the coming decades requires us to put in some work. In my PhD exegesis, I made the case for the short story, not just in arguing against its supposed inferiority to the novel, but as an effective starting point to reach people with the written word. As Ailsa Cox rightly argues in her book, Writing Short Fiction, the short story is well-equipped to thrive in a society that is over-saturated with distraction. For those who can’t, for whatever reason, commit to prolonged periods of reading during their day, the short story provides an obvious gateway.

Poetry, also, has potential to thrive in contemporary society. A strong case could be made to say it already has. Through spoken word, and with its loose association with Hip-Hop, poetry has seen a resurgence in popularity in recent times. But this has triggered the old debate of what is good art and bad art that afflicts literature in general. Instagram poets, for example, are widely derided despite their enormous popularity. And while some of the criticism is valid, is it not a good thing to have perceived bad poetry? Though we all have opinions (I certainly have mine), what is deemed good and bad is, or should be, subjective. The important thing is that poetry lives; that people write poetry. Unless you are the most extreme literary snob, perceived bad poetry, or writing in general, should be as acceptable as a bad film, a bad song, or a bad football team. Poor standards can be improved. Writing is a craft that must be continuously worked on. It is a skill that gets better with practice. Ultimately, the most important thing for any writer is the artistic mind, the je ne sais quoi that compels a person into the attempt at writing. If the artistic instinct is there, and the compulsion to create through words, then good writing is possible.

The frustrating aspect of perceived bad writing is in the perceived prevalence of it. This is a consequence of the spectacle, the demands of which cannot be overstated. The spectacle doesn’t allow for rigorous practice. The spectacle wants a constant stream of commodity. It wants ‘content.’ Precedence is given to the tried and tested, the derivatives, the most basic and easy to grasp. There is no room for contemplation, only the immediacy and brevity of the superficial.

But still, snobbery and pretentiousness are regularly encountered within literary circles, a trait that reduces accessibility and inclusivity. The irony here is that the gatekeepers of literary pursuits are supposedly all about inclusivity, rallying against the dominance of the white male writer. Fair enough, nobody wants to hear from white male writers exclusively. I’m not arguing against that sentiment. But the white male writer feels an easy target for the middle-class liberals who, I’m afraid to say, are the ones who actually do have total dominance over the publishing industry.

Consequences of this dominance are depressingly predictable. With the middle-class liberal comes the supposed safe space, the middle of the road blandness that the liberal “hive mind” believes is actually good. This is another irony – the ones who are most snobbish and bitchy about writing are actually quite bad themselves. If not bad, then incredibly dull.

This is the state of most creative writing today that is put out within the spectacle. And again, it can hardly be surprising that this is the case, considering the factors of class outlined at the beginning, and the ostentatiousness of literary gatekeepers. As any non-liberal will tell you, pretensions of inclusivity and accessibility are among the liberals most dislikeable characteristics. And what is more liberal than the misguided belief that capitalism can be made good if we can just dish out a little more equality; as if capitalism can even begin to function with equality as an ingredient.

The liberal who believes in good capitalism is essentially stuck in a bind. They want both equality and the ability to live very well within the capitalist system, as if capitalism isn’t inherently and absolutely about competition and dispossession of one for the advancement of the other. This effective paradox makes deceivers, manipulators and leeches out of the liberal. The fight against racism and prejudice becomes a marketing gimmick, nothing more than another way of saying we will sell to anyone and everyone (provided they have the same belief systems as us). Businesses will use an anti-racist or LGBT-friendly slogan or symbol as advertising. We are an inclusive space, they say, you should spend your money here because we’re so inclusive, as if being anti-racist or LGBT-friendly is something you should be given brownie points for, when actually, not being a bigot is just a healthy, normative state of being that doesn’t need pompous proclamation.

Many book publishers, indie as well as traditional, are guilty of such over-emphasis, taking great pleasure in declaring the encouragement of submissions from people who have traditionally been marginalised. Such a thing shouldn’t even need to be stated. What does it even mean? Does it mean you aren’t interested in people from a group that traditionally hasn’t been marginalised. Okay, if that’s so then that’s your right as a publisher. You get to publish what you want. But unless it’s related to very specific themes you don’t need to state such conditions. You can be selective without advertising it. Advertising it just makes it creepy. It makes it superficial. And it’s only done as a means to get clout. To put it crudely, it’s all so very white liberal.

Though maybe I’m being too harsh. Publishers who employ such gimmicks are coming from a good place, I’m sure. But that’s the point. If your good intentions are motivated by brand development, you are ultimately doing more harm than good by default. The simple fact of your primary concern being of the image of the brand is problematic. You’re engaged in a marketing strategy, a scheme to gain an advantage over competition, the targeting of a certain demographic with a selling point.

This is one way in which art suffers under capitalism. Gimmicks, trends, and an emphasis on what will sell or help raise brand awareness hurts artists and reduces artistic output. As already pointed out, the gatekeepers of creative spaces are actively on the lookout for specifics, often derivatives of the tried and tested, that they believe will sell to a target audience. But if everyone did this then the output will always be the same – derivatives recycled to produce derivatives of the derivative - the replica of the replica.

My assessment of the publishing industry being in this state even more so than, say, the Hollywood film industry won’t go down well with everyone. No doubt some will vehemently disagree with me and of course I am aware I could be wide of the mark. But it is my opinion based on what I have observed and what I know. My gut instinct is that there is a link between class and gender-determined gifts of books, the way books are treated and consequently perceived, the type of writer who has emerged in recent years, and the marketing strategies employed by book publishers.

The aim, however, for anyone who cares about literature and recognises the importance of the written word and individual expression through the written word, is surely to make the practice of writing as accessible as possible. We should, therefore, be as open as possible to different forms of writing and different types of writer, as well as different means of putting out the written word. If certain standards of presentation cannot be met because of costs, then why should a writer’s work be excluded from public domains? Publishers should seek out and help writers, and should actively participate within local and, if possible, wider communities in combatting the lack of literary visibility and opportunity.

Options include existing methods such as the setting up of workshops, manuscript evaluations, and editorial services. But the ultimate aim is to overcome those perceptions of reading as boring, and of writing as being a practice of the more well-to-do sections of society. That is the real challenge. And though we can only do so much, little is better than nothing.

The act of writing is one of the most essential human skills. Witing is empowering, it is a means to share and preserve knowledge, a means of communicating, teaching, and learning. Through writing we can explore the human condition and the state of things. Through writing we learn more about each other and what it means to be human. To deprive someone of this skill, or to accept deprivation of it, is a negligence. And while not everyone will enjoy reading or writing, we’re not all pre-programmed robots after all, a great many people are not even being given the chance of finding expression or inspiration through the written word.

For my part, like any one-person-band, I can only do so much. Furthermore, I’m a person of very little resources. And I know if I am to succeed, I will have to play the game of capitalism. No matter what path in this life we take, capitalism is our current reality. But because I know about poverty, and because I know about the power of writing, and the joy found in writing, and because of my instinctual suspicion of creative pursuits being gatekept, this endeavour will be pursued as non-conventionally as possible.

My primary motivation in setting up Cooper Lee was in the opportunity of putting out my own work on my own terms, free from both the interference and waiting around on publishers and the abomination that is Amazon.com. I sought one or two publishers for my book, Young Mancunians, before deciding to self-publish under my own press, taking inspiration from Virginia Woolf. Though I accept traditional publishing remains the most prestigious form of publication for a writer, I was impatient in the want to see the work published, and resistant to any creative concessions that may be asked of me. For better or worse.

After making that decision, I grew into the idea of being an actual publisher. I enjoyed the act of producing my own book from start to finish, though it was incredibly difficult, tedious at times, and mistakes were made. As a means to make money, I spent 2025 working a part-time zero-hour contract job and working with non-writers in development of written projects they had undertaken. Ghostwriting and editing, essentially. This has been incorporated into Cooper Lee and has seen me stumble into offering a hybrid publishing model as well as stand alone services.

Again, I very much enjoyed this work, finding joy in the development of other people’s writing and in seeing their literary projects come to fruition. Yet the typical charge for editing and ghostwriting services is well beyond the means of working-class aspiring writers. I was lucky enough to get enrolled on a Creative Writing programme back in 2013, when I was 29 and dead broke, but government cuts to Arts & Humanities departments across UK universities will no doubt make even this more difficult.

What is so depressing about those cutbacks is the confirmation that creative work is seen at an institutional level as lesser than everything else. Of course, nobody would claim that Creative Writing degrees are as important as Biochemistry, for example, but that hardly makes Creative Writing unimportant. Aside from the identified importance as a human skill, Creative Writing is integral to capitalist society itself. Storytelling, poetry, and the ability to write creatively well is essential to the mass media complex that is a critical component of modern capitalist society. But this isn’t our concern.

The logic behind government cutbacks to Arts & Humanities becomes clearer when taken into account the emergence of generative AI. I’m no luddite when it comes to AI. If put in the right hands, AI could be hugely beneficial to humanity. But it is not in the right hands and, regardless, AI has no place within the Arts. Yet because of the ease of its use, and the cheapness of it, AI is a very real threat to Creative Writing. The notion of AI as having use within Creative Writing needs defeating before it’s too late. Imagine the state of literature if just one generation is raised entirely on AI generated stories, poems, movies and songs.

We’re already in trouble with the next generation, with kids starting nursery school swiping and tapping books as if they’re phones – a horrific development, one that changes the nature of the problem fundamentally. The task we have, as writers, readers, and publishers, is now political. There is no denying this. Such developments can’t be left unaddressed. And while schoolteachers will surely tackle this issue at the source, it is obviously a societal issue. Parents who have no interest in reading will not read to their kids, who won’t read at all. We can’t be complacent about this.

I don’t claim to have any answers. I can’t offer anything truly revolutionary. My mission is an incredibly modest one, but I hope to gain support and establish partnerships with as many creative writers and publishers as possible. As a publishing house, Cooper Lee will be open to genre. Fiction, non-fiction and poetry will all be accepted. I will seek to work in both my local community and online with aspiring writers and those who just want to pursue a particular literary project. My mentoring and editing services will be as affordable as possible, and I will be as flexible as I can in this area.

Publishing-wise, I am very much a novice. I will need investment in the form of grants and funding to not just get things going, but to develop my own skills. Again, any form of partnerships or outside input won’t be ignored. The goal is to not charge people to have their book published, but there may a need to do that in the early stages depending on funding. That is completely up to the writer who comes across this press.

Cooper Lee is as much a passion project as it is a career ambition. Literature will not be treated as middle-class, middle of the road pursuit. It won’t be commodified. You want a fancy book cover? Great. That’s art. But if you can’t afford it, we’ll work round it. Without resorting to AI!

No matter what, everything will be done for the love of the craft.