anti-intellectualism and the commodification of books

the internet culture war that needs to be studied

Online reading culture has shifted our understanding of what it means to love literature. We’ve traded healthy debate and discussion for angry rants in comment sections and rapid consumption of hollow books. We’ve allowed publishers to prioritize profit over preserving our culture’s profound love for the written word. And in turn, we’ve forgotten what it means to fall in love with literature.

There have been countless conversations recently surrounding the philosophy of anti-intellectualism. At its core, it’s a historical trend: people become far easier to control without logic or reasoning. What classifies an “intellectual” is a debate for another time, but what we can glean from this definition regarding discourse online is this: it is the divide between those who read to turn their brains on and those who wish to turn their brains off.

For some, reading is meant as an escape. Our world has become overstimulating. With news of war and famine following our every move, political injustice warring with human rights activists, and the battles we fight in our minds, “turning off” your brain by immersing yourself in a fantastical world full of dragons and witches seems like the best thing to do. And perhaps it is at times.

But for others, it is about something different. It’s about turning your eye towards the hunger, the corruption, and the horrors of the world and digesting them at your own pace. As much as our world has begun to move around us at breakneck speed, we’ve also started to move just as quickly. So, cracking open a book to expand your mind and control the pace at which you consume seems the best way to control the narratives around you and learn how to navigate the world.

And so here is where our divide lies: are those who read for escapism in the wrong, or are those who place “serious” books over “bad” books just elitist?

Anti-intellectualism at its core is a loaded term

Many do not know the origins behind the term anti-intellectualism. Most are not accustomed to the idea that anti-intellectualism is a tool used by totalitarian governments to squash political dissent. Many do not know that intellectualism inherently keeps society standing tall under the boot of oppressors. At its core, it is a trend throughout history that, without logic or reasoning, people can be easily controlled.

This is what proponents of eradicating anti-intellectualism are fighting for. And for many, it starts with the discussion around online reading.

However, at face value, the term anti-intellectualism seems jarring and harmful. Many may hear this term and believe you are calling them dumb. But for most, it is heard as one person putting themselves on a pedestal over another simply for the content they consume.

But it’s not that.

It’s not a hostility towards thinking. Instead, it is the lack of passion for literature itself. Why?

Mainstream society has put more value on how many books you own or how many special editions you’ve read, as well as on the stories and the writing craft.

For this, I’d like to personally clarify what the term anti-intellectualism really means when used in the context of social media, specifically through the BookTok lens: it is not meant to shame readers but to interrogate how online book culture has shifted our understanding of what it means to love books.

Passion for Books vs. Passion for Literature

There is a difference between loving books and loving literature. Most people don’t seek out stories; they seek out books, and there is a clear difference between them.

For this, I would like to analyze a topic of conversation among most of those who would describe themselves as the type of reader who prefers “brain-off” books:

“Book buying and book reading are two separate hobbies.”

Many believe that the more books you own, the more of a reader you are. And this is where the argument for buying versus reading comes into play.

Buying stories doesn’t make you a lover of them. It just makes you a consumer. If your means of convincing someone you love to read is to tell them how many books you own or how many books you buy at one time, you are passionate about books and collecting. That’s not a passion for literature — it’s a passion for ownership.

Of course, you can enjoy these books and the stories they tell. But to completely immerse yourself in a cast of characters and the purpose of a story, you are not meant to turn your brain off—you’re just not.

Book collecting does not equate to literary engagement.

We’ve elevated aesthetics over substance, turned consumption into a stand-in for appreciation, and forgotten what it means to let a story unravel inside you and pull at your soul until it becomes a part of you forever. We believe having books proves the latter.

And it can all be boiled down to—and you guessed it. Say it with me—consumerism.

The Commodification of Reading

The arguments surrounding book buying versus book reading can be summed up fairly simply: encouraging and bragging about purchasing being a hobby fuels capitalism, not reading culture.

You are no more a reader than the next person because you buy more books than they do. If anything, it merely comes off as performative, as if reading is some competition or race.

I’d like to take a look at a very specific book recently released by an acclaimed and beloved author. Before I do, I would like to reiterate this: by mentioning this author and the actions of her publisher, it is not my goal to shame or diminish her accomplishments. Instead, I wish to use her most recent release as a case for my argument.

Emily Henry’s Great Big Beautiful Life was slated for release on April 21, 2025. But even before her press tour began, special editions flooded the market.

Afterlight announced theirs over a month before publication. So did Barnes & Noble. And Waterstones. And Indigo. And Target. And Walmart.

This isn’t about bashing Henry or her success — she’s earned it. But it raises the question: Why are we producing collector’s items for a book no one has read yet?

The answer is simple: money. Fast fashion is no longer confined to clothing. We’re living in the era of fast fiction.

The Afterlight special editions were announced over a month and a half before release.

Publishers and booksellers know what the users on BookTok want and love; because of that, they know what will make them more money. Booksellers and book readers have equally contributed to the epidemic of commodifying books.

This is also proven in the epidemic of lack of editing. Typos and plot holes have always been present in literature. However, now more than ever, we are being bombarded with 800- to 1,000-page fantasy tomes that could have been 400 pages long. We’ve equated length with quality, which is far from the truth. Editors have begun to push out novels at such a quick pace that it has resulted in a severe lack of editing in the books they represent.

This is why I blame the publishing houses just as much as I blame the readers.

Literature is no longer just art. It’s a product. And as soon as that became a reality, we lost the real meaning of being a reader.

For most readers, they are just as much a byproduct of consumerism as they are a reader.

However, the real harm comes from glorifying intellectual apathy (“I have brain rot, so I only read brain rot books lol”) rather than curiosity.

Elitism vs. Accessibility

Much of why the anti-intellectualism argument has become so heated as of late is because of the side of the argument that views itself as superior. Elitist readers often alienate those new to literature, because let’s be honest here: BookTok created a new generation of readers. There are, of course, people in the community who have been reading their entire lives. But for the community en masse, most didn’t start reading for pleasure until well into their twenties.

Elitist readers often use tone policing, condescension, and gatekeeping, which only harms more than it helps. The last thing you should be doing is making “serious” books seem inaccessible because of your bloated viewpoint on those who don’t read them as much as you do.

And on the flip side, overcorrection by mocking or rejecting “serious” literature is just as bad. Because most often, the authors and stories behind “serious” literature come from minority or suppressed voices.

Because of these two warring factions, there is a false dichotomy: fun books vs. good books.

What Anti-Intellectualism Actually Looks Like

It’s not about reading “bad books”—it’s about never being given (or seeking) the space to grow into deeper ones. Reading a “brain rot” book doesn’t strip your Reader Card away. But it restricts you from reading the stories begging to be heard and need to be heard.
As much as you’d like to read your fluffy romance with the same main character as the last six books you’ve read, but cloaked in a slightly different persona, you should also be making space to read drastically different books. Read books you’ll learn from. Read books that will challenge you mentally, philosophically, and emotionally.

Because the moment you stop looking toward literature to learn, you’ve done yourself a great disservice, because nothing makes you broaden your worldview than reading someone’s worldview in their own words.

And for the elitists, shame doesn’t equal education. It does the complete opposite. Think of it this way: if you were shamed for your taste in anything besides books, would that make you want to pursue the very thing you’re being criticized for not consuming? No. You’d shy away from it because every time you’re shamed, it is instilled in you that it is unobtainable. You’re made to feel like an “other”. So stop doing it to others.

Why All of This Matters

Reading is a privilege, and I believe we’ve forgotten that. It is a privilege that should never be taken lightly. For many, books are one of the few tools of transformation. “Turning your brain off” to read is a luxury not everyone has.

Literature is meant to challenge, reflect, and change us—not just comfort us. And we mustn’t forget that.

Joy and complexity can exist independently and together. This essay (or rant, whatever you’d like to call it) is not a call to only read serious books. Joy is a valid reason to read; so is grief, curiosity, rage, and wonder. Art, including literature, is meant to hold contradiction. So can our reading habits.

The goal isn’t purity—it’s awareness. We can love fun books and still push ourselves toward something more profound. It’s not about gatekeeping (on either end)—it’s about remembering that books aren’t just products, and reading isn’t just content. It’s art. And art, when we let it, can still change us.

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