With the discussions over the last month, from bookish content creation and the increase of publications over the last decade, to creator burnout, authors doubling full-time jobs, and the general struggle for people to keep on top of the fast-moving train that is bookish social media, it all begs the question: can we change things to make them better? If bookish social media on platforms like TikTok and Instagram have created this high-pressure environment to publish, read, create, and engage at such intense volumes (often at the expense of quality, individuality, and human feeling), can the same community reverse these trends? Is it possible to bring bookish social media back from the brink of chaos?

I know the initial answer is no, but why? I certainly want to see whether a comparison is possible, and if the changes are something that could be implemented with something as simple as making authenticity and experiences more widely talked about on these platforms. The reality is that it is the people, the casual readers and creators, who made the change in the first place, and they are still the ones in power here. Without them, certain authors wouldn’t have made it big, certain practices wouldn’t have become mainstream actions, and the way in which we post and engage with each other wouldn’t be the norm. While the platforms have their algorithms that carry what trends and creators they want to make viral, it is the people who make those trends and who are those creators. I am prefacing this discussion with these statements because I want to convince you that we still hold the reins with bookish social media, not the publishers and big-name companies who profit off these platforms.

Disclaimer: While I am pursuing a PhD in this subject, any statements and comments I make throughout the post are not backed up by evidence. These are my opinions and observations, which may not only vary from your experiences on the platforms but also contrast with them. It doesn’t make either of us wrong; it just goes to show that there are many ways to look at this phenomenon and the driving forces behind such decisions and actions. I am also not villainising anyone by the actions or behaviours they exhibit on bookish social media. I am purely speculating on a fantasy, and I encourage you to share your own thoughts on this topic.

When it comes to the creators, there are several things to note here. The drive to get followers, engagement, and have your content pushed by the algorithms is not inherently bad. Do I think it contributes to burnout and general behaviours on the platform the most? Yes, but that doesn’t make it evil or a poor practice. What I feel is the biggest negative proponent of practices and behaviours on bookish social media is the underlying belief that in order to be a reader, you must visibly look like a reader. I feel that this belief is nestled comfortably in capitalistic, consumerist, elitist, and ableist thought. I am sure I don’t need to outline why it is capitalistic and consumerist, but you may be a little confused by my naming of elitist and ableist. Well, to put it simply, this view that you need shelves of books to be a reader, or to be constantly buying more books for your collection, or that you have to have physical copies of books to be a reader, displays such notions of elitism and ableism. What makes having a physical copy of a book superior to owning an e-copy, which accommodates readers with learning difficulties, reading difficulties, and time constraints? What makes owning a pristine edition of a book any better than owning a secondhand copy, or a copy you bought years ago that has a creased spine and yellowed pages? When the visual representation of a “successful reader” features an abundance of books, many of which are special editions with sprayed edges, how is that relatable to a casual reader who does not have the money to keep up with these purchases?

Again, I am not hating on anyone who does buy these books or has a large collection of books, especially the latter, considering many of us have been reading for years and have accumulated our fair share of books. What I think is missing from the discussion on bookish social media when it comes to these collections is our sourcing information. How many books did you get second-hand? How many have you had for years, nearing a decade or more? How many books are creased at the spines, and you just can’t see them because they are in the background of the shot? As content creators, we should be normalising the longevity and normalcy of a used book. Something that is loved, with its tattered pages, peeling cover, yellowing pages, spine leeched of colour thanks to being in the sun for so long. We should be normalising our digital collections of books, listening to audiobooks, reading ebooks, and having favourites without there being a physical copy to showcase that we love that book or series.

Following this, we see trends come and go like headlights on a motorway on bookish social media, and while some are frequent flyers and will return within the month, others are a blink in the grand scheme of activity. “Trends” are only trendy if they are attention-grabbing, easy to do, and garner interest. Who says we can’t be making content about our favourite ebooks of the month? Who says we can’t be making content about a single book we have been reading for the last two weeks that came out back in high school? Who says that we need to always be posting “popular” books when we love reading and talking about books that have not seen the flash of a camera for years? Modern classics are one of my favourite genres/sub-genres of fiction, and while I see some of the names pop up every now and then, there are so few times I see them be regular occurrences on bookshelves and reading wrap-ups. Oftentimes, popular books are simply popular because they are recent releases, but take a moment to think about the longevity of the book. What is a book that was popular six months ago that didn’t get much screentime after its initial pub day shoutouts? What about a book from 2022? If readers and content creators are the ones actually making posts, then why aren’t we posting what we genuinely want to?

I have mentioned this word a few times already, but I want to really hone in on the word authenticity when it comes to this discussion. Authenticity is such a genuine, real, and relatable thing, and so many of us neglect it in favour of virality, hopping on what is popular and gaining momentum. Authenticity is something that has been coming up in my interviews for weeks, since the first interview I had, and it is something that is going to be on my mind for years to come. At the end of the day, we are readers, and the reason most of us started our accounts is to showcase our genuine appreciation and love for books and reading. The desire to get engagement and likes comes from a good place of wanting more people to see the books we really like and get interactions going about the books, but soon that authenticity falls behind, and we are chasing the numbers. What if it wasn’t this way? What if we held authenticity at the core of bookish social media? When we show our thoughts and feelings and real reactions to books, regardless of whether or not they are deemed “popular” or “recent releases”, it gives space to that pure, passionate driving force once more. Instead of chasing arbitrary numbers, why don’t we strive for authenticity?

This also provides space for authors to navigate and utilise the bookish social media space alongside us. People often forget that authors are readers too, and more often than not, they want to share their reading and reviews, too. By allowing for authenticity to flourish at the heart of the community, we are giving authors the space to be readers and authors simultaneously. One post may be a self-promotion for their books, or an event they were a part of recently, but the next four could be reviews and recent reads, just like the rest of us do. Not only that, but indie authors can receive love and attention, too, as we allow ourselves to read what we want to without the pressure of making sure it is a relevant author or new release. There are so many indie authors out there, and let me take this opportunity to say something that shouldn’t be controversial, but somehow is. Being an indie author doesn’t mean their books aren’t marketable or bad. It means that there aren’t enough publishers out there to keep up with the influx of people wanting to publish. Here in New Zealand, we have a significantly small number of publishers, and even fewer that are big-name ones. Being an independently published author is not only a viable option, but it could be the best one financially if your circumstances line up.

If you were to make a change to bookish social media, what would you do? What would you like to see changed about it? This can be from a technical lens, like the removal of an algorithm or the return of a higher number of hashtags. This could be an added feature, like narrowing down searches to allow for just the community to come across your FYP or feed. This could be a wide-reaching thing, like encouraging readers to post without all the bells and whistles, just showing their most laidback, genuine selves enjoying their reading pastime. I know I would want to bring everyone back to the core of their origins and get to normalising the sad/difficult sides of being a reader.