Brain Chemistry: The subversive joy of BookTok in deep troubling times

My professional life revolves around reading and writing books. But for years, I carried a little secret: I didn’t read much for fun or pleasure.

This wasn’t always the case. As a teen, I devoured books, and my library card was my most prized possession. In college, I passed the slow hours of my part-time job at a hotel gift shop, lost in works of magical realism — where ghosts lingered, kitchen spices conjured heartbreak, and love defied the laws of nature.

But somewhere between graduate school and professional academic life, books became objects to analyse, critique or assign. After I spent my days deciphering dense academic jargon and grading student papers, the last thing I wanted was to crack open a book at night. Slowly, without realising, I traded reading for binge-watching Netflix and doom-scrolling social media.

But after November’s election, the doom-scrolling that once numbed me only fueled my anxiety. I needed an escape from the barrage of dread. In a bid to improve my sleep and reduce the time I spent staring at my phone, I bought an e-reader. At first, I loaded it with books I thought I should read — prizewinners, critical darlings. But that just felt like homework. Soon, I was back to social media.

Then, late one night, the algorithm led me to a whimsical and hilariously dramatic corner of TikTok known as BookTok, where people gush about novels that supposedly altered their brain chemistry, or that they wish they could inject directly into their veins.

The algorithm caught on, and soon my feed was full of people speaking passionately about the thrill of a good story — reading on lunch breaks, or in moments where the joy of reading overpowers exhaustion. Of course, the algorithm also recognised my usage, filling my feed with queer and BIPOC creators and providing a different picture than someone else might get.

I began my BookTok reading journey with a fantasy novel about a woman cursed with immortality. I downloaded it on a whim after a young Black content creator raved about it as a book she’d recommend to anyone. Her love for it was so palpable, I couldn’t resist. And sure enough, I was sobbing through the final chapters. It wasn’t a perfect novel — as someone who thinks critically about race I couldn’t help wince at a historical novel that unfolds across centuries without a single mention of slavery, colonialism or racism — still, it cracked something open in me. Escapism, it turns out, isn’t always avoidance. Sometimes it’s a way back to yourself.

Writers of colour have rightly called out the lack of diversity on BookTok. A preliminary 2024 study found that while female creators and authors are well represented on the platform, the most-discussed books still skew white and heterosexual, with authors of colour and LGBTQ+ voices trailing behind. Yet, that imbalance reflects the publishing industry as a whole.

Some critics dismiss BookTok as shallow or consumeristic. But the critiques miss the point. At a time when creative arts are under attack, when libraries face cuts and outright purges, BookTok creators are encouraging people to read. Not for grades or prestige, but to find joy and sanctuary in deeply troubling times.

So if you’re spiralling, as I was, open a book. Download a novel. Listen to a voice that’s not your own. Get lost in an absurdist plot. Not because it’s noble or productive or good for you, but because it’s fun. And if it happens to alter your brain chemistry? Even better.