This Week: Why We've Forgotten How to Discover Books

How algorithms, bestseller lists, and social media have changed the way we find stories, and what we lose when we stop browsing bookstores

From the Editor

I’m often asked for book recommendations. It’s a wonderful question that often turns into an interesting conversation about genres, storytelling, and stories themselves.

People who want to start reading or are new to reading fiction are understandably lost as to where to start. Do they go for a classic, that novel they always hear about and feel they should read? Or the bestseller that’s being adapted into a film? The literary novel that’s winning all the major prizes?

Usually, when someone isn’t sure what type of fiction they like yet, I ask them what I think is an obvious question. What’s your favourite film or TV show?

If you love Interstellar, I’d recommend Rendezvous with Rama by Arthur C. Clarke or Solaris by Stanisław Lem.

If you are a Gossip Girl fan I might suggest The Secret History by Donna Tartt but warn them that it’s a little dark and instead point them toward the delightful Bergdorf Blondes by Plum Sykes.

Let’s say the Gladiator is a film they always rewatch, then obviously they should get The First Man in Rome by Colleen McCullough or maybe push themselves and read The Memoirs of Cleopatra by Margaret George.

If a sweeping drama like Titanic or The Notebook is the genre they gravitate towards, I’d tell them they should definitely read The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah, All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr or Silk by Alessandro Baricco.

The options are endless, the game is fun.

Ultimately though, I tell them, while recommendations can be helpful, they should go into a bookstore and browse for themselves. See what speaks to them, notice what jumps out, feel what stirs them.

This particular suggestion doesn’t always go down well. The response is indifferent, dismissive.

‘No, can you just give me a list?’ They ask.

‘Tell me your favourite book and I’ll get it,’ they say.

‘What’s the book you think I’d like, I’ll get that,’ they insist. ‘But please, make sure it’s good.’

I never could understand why people who genuinely wanted to read were so resistant to going into a bookstore. It’s far from an overwhelming place or experience. In fact, a bookstore is the quiet corner of any city. A place where the hum of unread word, of countless stories invites you to relax, explore, discover.

There are only a handful of activities that I treasure more than spending hours browsing through books. Going into a bookstore feels like going home.

Then, sadly, when I prodded into this strange phenomenon where people wanted to be told what books to buy instead of discovering stories that speak to them, I found the answer unsettling.

Algorithms, ads, influencer’s sponsored posts, Amazon recommends, Goodreads lists – the way in which content funnels through our screens and into our lives, leaves no room for luck, coincidences, random discoveries of new authors, obscure books, stories we never thought we’d like.

The way social media is built, how content is scripted, only works, only exists, can continue to grow, if the idea is to tell the audience what to do, how to do it, what to consume, how to consume it. The module can’t exist if the message is to encounter, observe, take your time.

Explore pages, discovery tabs, trending lists, featured pages – the language of these essentially human ways of being, are used online to give the illusion of an experience that feels as fulfilling as coming across the things, the stories, we never knew we needed.

The internet, social media, are facts of modern life. They do obviously have their benefits. I’m ironically aware of how I’m communicating to you right now.

Thanks to a comment section of a Facebook post discussing the hero’s arc within the fantasy genre, I discovered an unknown name to me, Sherrie S. Tepper, who quickly became one of my favourite authors of all time. Online forums and communities have their merits, especially for bookworms, writers, creatives, and general nerds who need like-minded, obsessive enthusiasts.

However, the gamification of how we navigate discovery is short circuiting our capability to simply be in a place, mentally and physically, where the gradual and spontaneous, the instinct and the organic, intersect with the self in small, profound, and serendipitous ways.

Especially in a bookstore.

One of the most defining moments of my life as a reader and a writer was when I came across Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen in the library when I was 13.

I was bored, walking down an aisle, hand strumming on the spines of books, when my fingertips felt a rough canvas texture. Odd that this book was among the hard plastic covers of non-fiction texts on social sciences and the environment. Someone had misplaced the novel, it found its way to me, and changed the course of my reading life.

The internet might, but it could never, have the same impact, the raw rush, of feeling something absolutely unexplainable, moving through your chest, when you pick up a book with a curious title by an author that may sound familiar but you’ve never heard of, and then find yourself locked into that first page. It’s bliss.

Seriously, close the browser, lock your phone, go to a bookstore.

---

This Week on The Culturelist…

---

---

The Culturelist Picks…

Watch this week's books, films, exhibitions and cultural discoveries.

---

This Week’s Quote…

As you may have seen from The Culturelist Picks of the week, I’ve been delving into The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson edited by Thomas H. Johnson.

Everyone knows Dickinson in some capacity, as the hermit poetess queen, but I don’t think many of us really ready her, read her enough, or appreciate her thoroughly. Here’s a short poem that struck me.

In this short Life
That only lasts and hour
How much - how little - is
Within our power

---

This Week’s Question…

When you listen to this week’s The Voice Note episode, you’ll hear me ask myself and answer this week’s question.

And while my answer might seem a little presumptuous, it’s also the same reason why, I believe, so many novels, films, and art remains relevant years, even hundreds of years, after they were created.

And so, I pose the question to you:

Can humanity change for the better?

Thank you as always for your subscription to The Culturelist and please enjoy this week’s collection of stories.

See you next week,

Maan Jalal