Do men read books by women? Do men read books about women? The answer, as Slate's Ester Bloom says, is "sure." To point to just the most obvious example: you don't sell as many books as J.K. Rowling does without appealing to men, women, and children of all ages.
A more interesting question, then, might be, why do men read books by and/or about women? The question comes up, perhaps, because we often think of identity and art as intertwined. Women, in theory, read Twilight to see themselves in Bella; men read Ian Fleming to see themselves in James Bond.
There's no doubt truth to that—but it rather elides the fact that lots of women have read Ian Fleming over the years, and a fair number of guys (like me) have read Twilight. So what do people get from books that aren't marketed to them, or aren't about them?
Part of the answer is simple enough—men and women aren't, or don't have to be, all that different. Lots of women enjoy shooting the bad guys with James Bond; I can identify quite easily with Bella's feelings of isolation, depression, and romantic angst. Men aren't from Mars and women aren't from Venus; we're both from Earth, and as such it's not all that hard to talk to each other.
But if similarity can be engaging, so can difference. For me, and I'd guess for a lot of men, part of the appeal of reading women writers is precisely the chance to know, or to be, someone else. Just as women are often fascinated by men, men—of whatever sexual orientation—are often quite interested in women. I know women read and enjoy Pride and Prejudice, too. But as far as I'm concerned, Jane Austen wrote is so guys like me can fall in love not just with Elizabeth's eyes or even with her wit, but with her whole self there on the page. Same with Dorothea in Middlemarch, or Dana in Kindred. If you're interested in how women think and feel—and what guy isn't interested in that?—then the best place to go is to books by women.