By Schneur Schusterman
I judge books by their covers (cue gasps). It’s true. I absolutely love the aesthetics of a book. It’s not just what the cover looks like. It’s the feel of it, how smooth or rigid it is. It’s whether the colors work. It’s whether the spine blends seamlessly into the colors on the front. If reading for pleasure is really about pleasure, then I want to enjoy my book as much as I can. That includes how much I enjoy looking at it.
It also includes how much others look at it.
Since 2020, the focus on books by social media subcultures has become incredibly popular. People on Tiktok, Instagram, and Youtube post everything from pictures of themselves reading and book reviews to nearly feature length vlogs exploring the “aesthetic” of a genre of books. These subcultures have been termed Booktok, Bookstagram, and Booktube respectively. While reading is generally a pretty solitary activity, the idea of reading and the aesthetics of being a reader has become the foundation for these huge platforms. Within these book subcultures, genres and aesthetics become super important.
An example of this is dark academia, a genre in which people romanticize college life, usually emphasizing old-school European fashion, with some sort of magical twist. Or take romance, a genre on which people on BookTube will make 45-minute video essays discussing why they don’t like Colleen Hoover or just absolutely adore Sally Rooney. People also integrate preexisting aesthetics into internet book culture, such as cottagecore (an unrealistic idealization of living in nature), where the focus is on cozying up in a small cottage reading in the quiet rather than the content of the book.
Since the invention of the printing press, people have romanticized reading and expressed themselves through what they read. People have always loved a good looking book, and have judged others based on if they have read certain “classics” or not. However, this new phenomenon has grown from people attempting to express themselves through full blown aesthetics and subcultures. The internet has made it so easy for people to turn books into parts of who they are. However, the fact that it’s all online limits the breadth of how expressive people can be.
It’s never been easier to find someone with similar tastes as you. It’s as simple as searching your favorite genre or book title and scrolling through the hundreds of results. However, connecting over anything other than what you searched is a different story. You might find a hundred posts about your favorite book but have no real way of connecting to anyone over them besides just liking the post. On these platforms, the aspect of human connection just can’t compare to connecting in real life.
In real life, people connect over books everywhere. Book clubs are more popular than ever. Entire college courses are dedicated to discussing books. There isn’t a disconnect between people who read books, yet many of those connecting wouldn’t identify themselves as “readers.” This culture of people sharing what they read, their bookish aesthetics, as part of their identity, is where the online and real world come together.
Being a reader has outgrown its online presence and entered into the real world through the changes in today’s bookstores. Take a step into any Barnes and Noble and one of the first things you’ll notice is a pile of books with a “BookTok” sign next to it. This seems to be a place where the internet and actual people can merge. For example, someone may comment to a customer browsing about how they recommend a book the customer is looking at. However, if you look a bit closer into most Barnes and Noble stores, you might notice that there aren’t any seats besides the cafe. Therefore, most interactions at the “BookTok” table are in the context of buying a book.
Someone browsing the shelves plans on being at the checkout counter within a reasonable amount of time. They plan on spending their money. They don’t plan on staying to actually read their book.
While this is the case with big chains like Barnes and Noble, independent bookstores are a little different. Their entire stock and layout is an opportunity to connect. Independent bookstores know their consumers. The local community has certain interests and tastes that these bookstores cater to. That’s what makes indie bookstores such a unique experience; by seeing what types of books they sell, you recognize what type of community you’re in.
However, both of these places are bookstores, places of commerce, which affect the dynamic of any interactions there.
There’s a concept in sociology called a “Third Place.” It’s a physical place that is distinct from your first place (your home) and second place (your work/school) places. It’s a place where you go without any necessary agendas, such as buying something or completing an activity (like a grocery store or museum.) A third place is a place where you go to be. Examples of third places are parks, religious centers, and gyms. My favorite third place is my library.
Public libraries do what bookstores do; offer a place to connect with others over our shared interest in everything book-related. But they do it with an added level of community. They are my ideal third place. Public libraries are precisely designed to be places where all types of books and the people who read them become seamlessly integrated. My local public library has a seemingly endless space filled with seats for reading, and computer desks, with a librarian’s desk in the center. It’s a great design for those who want quiet reading or study time, as well as giving an opportunity for people to connect over books.
The shelves of a library, the hundreds of books, their diverse covers, their preread wear and tear, are also the content that book media turns into an aesthetic.
I became a “reader,” as a part of my identity because of BookTube. I saw YouTubers like Jack Edwards and Dakota Warren and thought, “Wow, these people make reading look so romantic, I’d like to try some of that.” Because I wanted to own some of the books I read, I went to my local Barnes and Noble to buy a book and enjoyed chatting with others there about our choices. But it was finally, at my local library, where I found I connected over books in a very human way.
Books connect people in very different ways. They connect people through the internet, stores, third places and communities. There are also a great deal of other places I haven’t mentioned in this article. It makes me wonder what other seemingly material things humans can connect through.