Why do we buy books we never read? Our bookshelves are overflowing, but not always with stories we’ve read. In an age of shelf aesthetics and BookTok trends, buying books has become as much about identity as reading.
The books we buy but never read say more about us than we think. I have books full of beautiful books I’ve never read, each one bought with the best intentions, now collecting dust like souvenirs from past reading moods. Some were must-haves from BookTok, others from genres and tropes I loved at the time and now have no interest in. I told myself I’d get to them all eventually, but my taste shifted, and they stayed put.
This isn’t just a problem I experience; it’s part of a wider trend where book buying has become aspirational. In the age of curated #shelfies, aesthetic reading goals, and online personas, our shelves often say more about who we want to be than what we actually read.
So why do we collect books we may never open? And what do these unread pages reveal about our identity, lifestyle, and the performance of being a reader today?
What Our Bookshelves Say About Us?
To understand how we got here, let’s explore the fascinating evolution of reading beyond just the pages of a book. It’s becoming a vibrant lifestyle, a trendy social phenomenon, and even a visual aesthetic. Stepping into a bookstore can spark joy, but it can also tempt our wallets and fill our shelves to the brim. One month, you might be all about the fake dating trope, but then suddenly realise it’s not quite your thing anymore.
What happens to those 20 books you eagerly bought that revolve around fake dating, now gathering dust on your shelf? They’re left unread, as our preferences are ever-changing. And I totally relate! There have been moments when I’ve rekindled my love for a once-favourite trope. If it weren’t for my collection of unread books, I wouldn’t have those gems waiting for me, ready to be revisited and enjoyed once more.
Books aren’t just stored anymore, they’re styled. From dark academia vibes to minimalist stacks, our shelves become quiet statements of taste, mood, and identity. Whether you order them by colour-coded spines, face-out covers, or a pile of neatly stacked hardbacks. Our bookshelves give us the ability to express our creative design and inner interior design dreams through our passion.
Even when unread, books carry meaning. They sit on our shelves not just as potential stories, but as signals, conversation pieces that hint at our values, intellect, or aspirations.
Who Are We Without Our Bookshelves?
It’s easy to feel like a reader when you’re surrounded by books. Shelves stacked with titles, whether read or unread, create a quiet sense of identity. Books don’t just fill a space; they define it. A living room feels more thoughtful with books lining the walls. A bedroom feels cosier with paperbacks stacked by the bed. Take them away, and something feels missing, not just decoratively but personally.
Our bookshelves become proof of who we are or hope to be: cultured, curious, and well-read. But are they comforting reminders of our reading life or curated backdrops for how we want to be seen? And without them, would we still feel like readers at all?
There’s comfort in glancing at a shelf and seeing ourselves reflected, through titles, genres, or authors we admire. Even unread, they tell a story of the kind of person we hope to become.
We don’t just build bookshelves anymore, we stage them. Face-out covers, colour-coordinated stacks, and Instagram-friendly nooks blur the line between reader and lifestyle brand. Each unread book represents a version of ourselves we might one day live out, a new interest, a deeper understanding, a moment we haven’t made time for yet.
The TBR That Never Ends: Why We Keep Buying Books We Never Read
Every time I buy a new book, I tell myself it’ll be the next one I read. But somehow, it joins the queue, stacked on top of last month’s impulse buys and last year’s untouched favourites. The TBR pile never shrinks; it multiplies. It’s not just a list anymore, it’s a lifestyle.
Part of the problem is how easy it is to keep adding. With BookTok, Goodreads, influencer hauls, and endless recommendation lists. We’re constantly exposed to new titles that promise emotional catharsis, twisty plots, or ‘that one book you’ll think about forever.’ The result? A culture of constant literary consumption, where reading becomes a race to keep up with what’s trending rather than a personal space.
There’s also the constant pressure of staying up to date, especially online. Monthly wrap-ups, 12-books-in-a-month challenges, and aesthetic reading trackers make it feel like everyone is reading more, faster, and better. The TBR pile becomes a kind of aspiration, a physical list of the person we want to be, the mood we hope to sink into, or the knowledge we absorb.
For some, buying books has even become a separate hobby itself, a comforting ritual or small act of self-care, even if the book stays untouched. There’s a strange comfort in seeing them all there, even if upended. It’s proof that we still care about stories, even when we don’t have time for them.
But as the TBR grows, so does the quiet guilt. We hold onto unread books with the hope that we’ll get to them ‘soon’, though that day rarely comes. And while these stacks once felt full of potential, they can start to feel more overwhelming than inspiring.
Unread, But Still Loved
Even the books we never read can hold meaning. They remind us of who we were when we bought them, what we were interested in or what we hoped to feel. There’s comfort in knowing they’re there, waiting patiently for the right moment. Some books find their moment years after they’re bought. While others simply stay with us as a quiet reminder of past versions of ourselves.
Unread books aren’t failures, they’re possibilities. Each one represents a version of ourselves we haven’t had time to meet yet. Maybe we’ll reach for them when life slows down, or maybe we won’t. But their presence still offers something, a quiet sense of potential, curiosity, or simply beauty on a shelf.
In the end, our books don’t have to be read cover to cover to matter, they reflect our tastes, our phrases, and our dreams. And maybe that’s enough. Because sometimes, loving books isn’t just about reading them, it’s about the life they represent, even unopened.
