I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library.
Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
My earliest memories discovering the world involved my nose wedged between the pages of a book. Perhaps it was this bookworm-like Matilda character I got pinned with as a young kid, but I always found comfort in the hushed shuffles of a cosy bookshop. In fact, I remember the first three books I ever bought with my hard-earned pocket money:
An avid reader from the get-go, I whizzed through the likes of Roald Dahl, Jacqueline Wilson, Suzanne Collins, Philip Pullman, Sally Gardner and several more names I could list until you’d be bored through! At the precipice of the iPhone’s launch in 2007, books were my entertainment… my solace. Even in reminiscence of those times, I find myself taking unfounded pride in how literary I was. Little did I know, I came to realise I may just like buying and shelving books more than I did reading them!
Long gone are the languid days I would spend lounging around with a book in hand and legs thrown over an armrest. Slowly over the years, my love for reading had deteriorated into an abysmal state, like that of Cinderella’s tattered ballgown. I mostly blame it on university and how reading for the purpose of studying sucks the joy out of the affair. Nevertheless, I still deemed myself a capable reader. The go-to medium had certainly evolved since primary school. Wave goodbye to paperbacks with dog-eared covers and hand drawn bookmarks and say hello to… Audible?!
Now, if you expect me to pooh-pooh the dominance of Amazon’s Kindle products, including Audible, you may have read me wrong. While it does have its drawbacks – mainly the monopoly the shopping giant holds on online book sales – it has solved this writer’s burgeoning problem! In 2023, we don’t merely want convenience, we need it. And that’s what Kindle/Audible provides for many wannabe readers. Plus, I no longer have to deal with finding more space to store my books in my ever-crowded flat! After all, isn’t it more important to consume and digest the contents of your TBR list than to fixate on taking it all in, in the proper way? Before this becomes an Amazon endorsement though, let’s rewind and explain why I’m starting Book Club in the first place.
Choosing to cultivate the art of long form reading is really an exercise of focus and determination. This all makes me sound rather short on an attention span – somewhat like Dory. However, the unravelling of my childhood personality has perplexed me in recent months. People grow up and people change. So of course, there’s bound to be some labels we shed over the years. If it weren’t easy for me before, I would have given up on reading. With the emergence of apps like Blinkist and Headway, the most logical thing to do would be to simply read or listen to a 15-minute summary of your chosen title! Sorta like watching a movie summary on YouTube instead of sitting down to watch the entire thing from opening to end credits. But then if we all did that, the entire industry would collapse in on itself! Alas… for the quiet souls, who can appreciate the rich worlds a book can open you up to, a digital Spark Notes won’t cut it. I don’t discount the fact that apps, like the ones above, can be true resources for students and researchers alike. But for those who read for leisure, these same means strip away the very characteristics of what makes reading appealing.
My naysayers would say I’m putting form over function, but if I (partially) attribute my fondness for reading to aesthetic purposes, then what’s the harm? As long as it helps me read more books, I have no qualms with the dark academia trope. After all, with the latest round of Internet critics slamming Gen Alpha’s reading ability, it’s hard to believe that in the UK, we only achieved a +90% literacy rate at the turn of the last century. Famously lauded as the bookish, studious type – thanks to such national institutions as Oxbridge and nerdy characters in pop culture, such as Hermione Granger, Matilda Wormwood, etc. – Brits are known to be well-read. Just hop on the Tube at rush hour to witness many a commuter with their nose between a book. As such, I wouldn’t deny the fact that my romanticisation of this kind of ritual reader is the catalyst behind Book Club. Also, I just happened to finally find books that held my attention for more than 10 pages!
The dirty ‘c’ word behind the rising aesthetics of literature – commodification – however, is still a matter to be dealt with. Guilty as charged, I used to peruse the aisles of Waterstones, taking an eternity to select a title, then ending up in queue for the counter, just to add half a dozen non-book items to my basket.
I only meant to window shop!
– broke girl talking
Bookstore chains are increasingly cross-selling calendars, notebooks, pens, watercolour palettes, puzzles, postcards and basically any other product that isn’t a book. That, dear reader, simply frightens me! (You can argue that it’s the nature of commercial shops to prioritise lining their pockets before considering moral values, but I am a staunch proponent of ethical business practices, so in my books, they could all do better!) Nowadays, the humble bookshop has been transformed into a café for the local mum group to gather and sip their flat whites, while oohing and aahing over photos of their precious cherubim. As much as I seem to disdain this trend, third spaces like these – especially consecrated places of intellectual worship – are much needed in a society, where local governments are dead set on shutting down public services, such as libraries, theatres and leisure centres. Perhaps my criticism is misdirected at bookstores chains; where there’s money to be made, it will be made. Rather, supporting independent bookshops may be the way forward!
Balancing all these social dilemmas, I find myself in bookworm limbo stuck between choosing modern day penny dreadfuls or Pulitzer Prize winners. Whichever the case may be, I can walk away from the bookshelves, knowing I will have a nourishing, most soul-replenishing of a time with the selection I’ve made. Call it, chicken soup for the bookworm’s soul, if you will.
Even more awe-inspiring is the community building that’s emerged since your mum’s pasty book club turned digital. A small part of me must admit, that the sway of social media and online content has made reading cool again. Creators like Jack Edwards transformed a celebrity’s faux intellectual accessory into a blueprint of their psychological state. Take Exhibit A…
In tandem with his personal library of 1000+ books, his influence, amongst other creators, has amassed swathes of young viewers, who would rather pick up a book than a smartphone. In fact, #BookTok has 29.2 million tags on TikTok and that’s excluding the other variations of that hashtag.
Last but not least, the final reason for undertaking this endeavour is partially a vanity project. You see dear reader, your writer dreams of ambitions beyond this silly little blog. One day, I too will get to publish my story. Be it a magical tale of my imagination; a blazing trail of thoughts and ideas on society’s sores and aches; or a lyrical lesson on all my love’s labour’s lost and won – I want to leave my mark on the literary world.
Ink remains after all human trace is gone.
This mantra haunts me constantly, that I somehow won’t be able to fulfill my childhood dream. Maybe it’ll come true one day, but whatever form it manifests, I’ll be pouring straight from the heart. To do so faithfully, reading the stories of those around me and beyond, will in turn make me a stronger writer.
All this is well and good, but innately I’m also a bit of a hoarder: a silly squirrel prepping for winter’s arrival by decking out her home library with more books than she can read. Eventually, this nutter will have enough books to appease her hunger!
