Once upon a time, reading was a quiet and deeply personal act. Something done in private for curiosity, pleasure or knowledge. Today, however, books are no longer just read, they are displayed. Carefully arranged bookshelves fill social media feeds while colour-coordinated spines sit behind video calls. What about those stacks of novels appearing in photos, untouched yet proudly present?
Reading has evolved from an intellectual practice into a visible marker of identity and status.
In our modern society, owning books seems to signal more than a love for literature. It suggests taste, education and perhaps, even class. A bookshelf has become a form of social currency. Like fashion or travel photos, books often communicate who we are (or who we want to be) to others.
Social media plays a pivotal role in this shift. Instead of depth or reflection, platforms reward aesthetics. Imagine a picture of a book resting next to a frothy cup of coffee in a dreamy little cafe or rows and rows of books on a bookshelf at home. The photos of books on tables in cafes or neatly styled bookshelves, gain more attention than a thoughtful discussion of a book’s ideas. Looking at the number of likes and engagements between these two, most often than not, send me scratching my head.
In this time and age, it seems like the appearance of reading becomes more valuable than the act itself. People collect books, post them and move-on, often without reading beyond the first few pages, if they do at all. This action is not similar to unfinishing a book because you might find it not riveting or compelling enough. I am a big advocate of not wasting one’s time on a book if it can’t hold your attention or the lack of ‘chemistry’ between the reader and the book. The instances mentioned here are solely about books displayed for aesthetics.
This trend reflects a larger cultural obsession with appearing intelligent rather than becoming informed. Displaying books creates the impression of curiosity and knowledge without requiring the time, focus or effort that real reading demands. In fast-paced digital spaces, it is easier to signal intelligence than to build it. A book on a shelf is instant proof, while reading the book is slow, demanding and invisible.
Class also plays a role. Certain books like classics, philosophy texts or somewhat a highbrow non-fiction carry more symbolic value than others. Recently, classic titles like Frankenstein by Mary Shelley and Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen have been making their rounds on socials. They are trending and often cited or raved about by influencers.
Make no mistake, these titles are absolute classics and beautifully written, however, the intention that goes behind picking these books make all the difference. Owning them suggests cultural awareness and education. For those who just want to be seen with these titles for the sole intention of aesthetics – this have already been met even when these books remain unopened. In a way, books function like designer items. They are valued not for their use but for what they represent. Yet, what is most striking about this phenomenon is the lack of shame surrounding it. Many openly admit they haven’t finished or even started the books they display.
This act where people buy for the sole reason of being seen as an intellectual, leads to another problem – overconsumption. Platforms like BookTok or Bookstagram are on the top of the list when it comes to influencing the overconsumption of books. BookTok recommendations mainly come from influencers who usually benefit monetarily or in kind. This is really not a great way of recommendation, giving the biases.
These recommendations further contribute to yet another situation – the TBR-phenomenon. TBR, or To-Be- Read is currently in fashion with those who love or want to be seen as loving the act of reading. Compiling lists of books that are on the radar for future readings. Wonderful when the true love of books and reading comes into play – not so good when the intention is to be seen as one.
With all that is said, this does not mean that real reading has disappeared nor that online book culture is entirely hollow. For some, aesthetic interest can spark genuine curiosity, however, the danger lies in confusing ownership with understanding, appearance and knowledge. When books become props, their power to challenge, inform and transform is diminished.
In the end, bookshelf capital reveals more about society than about reading itself. It shows a culture that values symbols over substance and performance over practice.
