The pose and the page: Inside the world of performative reading

Dr Pranita Matani, a vitreoretinal fellow at MM Joshi Eye Institute in Karnataka’s Hubli, has watched this shift seep into homes. “I know people who have gone and bought entire boxes of second-hand ‘intellectual-appearing’ books to set up a bookcase,” she says. “What is inside no longer matters. It is how it looks in your home, the impression it gives. A coffee mug looks so much nicer with a book and plant beside it, doesn’t it?” It is now an aesthetic, an indicator of a certain lifestyle.

In the age of performative reading, it is not enough to read a book, it must also be staged and posted. (Source: Pinterest)

Retailers see the same. “People want to be seen reading certain books, or photographed against shelves,” he says. “I see people filming themselves even before they enter,” says Pankaj P Singh, CEO of Chandigarh-based bookseller and publisher The Browser.

Faking it, then making it

Performative reading — the habit of showcasing books mainly to signal taste or intellect — has become cultural capital. In an age where reading has become a competitive sport, the focus has shifted from absorbing ideas to broadcasting progress: logging titles, posting artful photos, even skimming AI-generated summaries. The irony is hard to miss. In trying to look well-read, many bypass reflection, retention, and the application of ideas.

Shivangi Sinha, a 24-year-old PR executive in Gurgaon, admits she once read performatively. But she isn’t the only one. “I’ve seen friends buy thick philosophy books or award-winning novels they never finish, just to make themselves look a certain way.”

“I would carry around titles that looked impressive and post aesthetically pleasing pictures of my ‘current read’ on Instagram. I was not uninterested in books,” she clarifies, “but I cared more about how it made me appear.” Somewhere along the way, though, she began to read. “The books I picked for their looks started to pull me in for their ideas.”

For Singh, this aspirational streak is a net positive. “Out of all the vices you can imagine, buying a book to appear thoughtful is hardly the worst. It at least puts you in aspirational mode. Sometimes pretending to be a reader is the first step toward becoming one.”

Others see less redemption in the trend. Pradipta Mandal, a content researcher and scriptwriter in West Bengal, has catalogued countless instances of performative reading in his circle. “I have seen many people carrying a fancy-looking book in their hands even when they have a backpack,” he says. “They usually have absolutely zero knowledge about the book, but it is the performative action they are after.”

He recalls the frenzy that ensued when Han Kang, author of The Vegetarian, won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2024. “Two of my friends immediately asked me for it. At that time, I did not have a hard copy. Later, when I finally got one, I told them, they couldn’t care less. It wasn’t cool anymore.”

For Singh, this too fits a longer history: “A book has always been a lottery. Long before social media, brilliant authors went unnoticed while weaker books rose. Social media hasn’t changed that probability. It is still maybe two percent, but it has made the world noisier.”

From community to content

Yet not everyone who shares their reading publicly falls into this category. For some, posting online can be a form of accountability, a way to join communities of fellow readers, or simply an entry point into the habit itself. For Kerala-based sisters Anjali S, 32, and Gayatri S, 27, known on Instagram as @bookstersisters, the evolution of performative reading is most visible in Bookstagram itself. Anjali, a doctor now based in Nagpur, was the “book dragon” of the family. “She used to read hundreds of books a year,” Gayatri recalls. “But she had no one to discuss them with, so she basically forced me into reading when I was a kid.” Gayatri, now an IT professional in Chennai, laughs at the memory: “I was a picture-book girl. She wanted a debate partner.”

In 2018, they launched their account as a shared creative outlet. “Back then, Bookstagram felt intimate,” Gayatri said. “Posts were simple — pictures of pages, shelves, or the book you were reading. The captions were long. Comments turned into discussions. It was organic, and the community felt small and close.”

 

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A post shared by Anjali&Gayathri | 🇮🇳 (@bookstersisters)

The pandemic changed that. With Instagram pushing video, reels became the currency of visibility. “There was a huge shift,” Anjali recalls. “Suddenly, reading was trendy… At first, we were happy. We thought, Wow, more people are discovering books.”

But quickly, they saw a new kind of hollowness. “Recommendation posts started flooding the platform, but they did not even make sense,” Gayatri says. “We realised people were just generating lists with AI… There were no reviews, no personal thoughts.”

The sisters, who have over 4,000 followers, tried chasing the algorithm themselves. “We attempted reels and trending sounds,” Gayatri admits. “But we both have jobs. We’re doing this for fun. We realised we couldn’t keep up with the number game. So we went back to what we love — honest recommendations.”

They have also watched the rise of “performative book clubs,” where attendees pay fees not for reading or discussion, but for the photo opportunity. “We know people who don’t participate in actual reading groups but post pictures from these paid clubs,” Gayatri said. “Sometimes even the so-called ‘discussions’ are AI-generated.”

A cultural phenomenon

Anish Mundra, 27, a PhD scholar at NIT Jalandhar researching screen cultures around Delhi, sees performative reading not just as a fad, but as a cultural phenomenon shaped by media, attention spans, and algorithms. “I think this phenomenon has really saturated public spaces,” he says. “You cannot always tell how much is performative and how much is genuine, but it has definitely grown over the years.”

Mundra traces part of the shift to pop culture. “In the 1990s, a nerd character in Friends or Indian shows like Hum Paanch and Khichdi, or films like Main Hoon Na, were mocked. Glasses and books were signs of being uncool ‘nerds’ or ‘geeks’. But in the 2000s, with shows like The Big Bang Theory, suddenly the geek was celebrated. Sheldon became iconic. That shift in representation matters. Add Instagram, TikTok, and BookTok, and reading has turned aspirational.”

Books, he argues, have become social signifiers. “Carrying a book signals depth. It allows others to slot you into categories: existential philosopher, countercultural rebel, romantic idealist. Taste has become shorthand for identity performance.” He adds: “Now, books are props in the theatre of self.”

Still, he sees value in the trend. “Depth is scarce in a world of endless shows and surface-level content. So even when people carry books as props, they’re at least gesturing toward depth. That counts for something.”

Not all agree. Rana Preet Gill, author of The Ghadar Movement: A Forgotten Struggle (Penguin Viking), draws a sharp line between readers and performers. “I think people who truly read never actually pose with books,” she says. “For me, reading is therapy. Real readers do not seek external validation. They read for the pure joy and thrill of discovering something new, not for likes and comments.”

Coping, branding, survival

Aditi Kumar, consultant psychologist and expressive arts therapist at Artemis Hospitals, sees performative reading as a coping mechanism in an anxious, validation-driven society. “Reading is becoming the new trending attractive bit in the sense of who you are as a person,” she says.

For her, the phenomenon is a blend of insecurity and the hunger for relevance. “We haven’t found meaning in ourselves, so we are finding meaning in external validation. Social media makes it easy to create content that looks deep enough. You can even ask AI to summarise a novel. The information is there, but adding aesthetics and your own voice makes it appear more profound. It gives the illusion of depth.”

Kumar believes performative reading is also about survival in a crowded attention economy, adding that books become extensions of personality branding.”

She cautions that performative reading carries both risks and opportunities. “It can flatten knowledge into consumable content while giving it a veneer of authority. It’s curation, not comprehension,” she says. “But even if people are reading, or appearing to read, for validation, they’re still engaging with text. And text has a way of leaving traces. Sometimes you begin with performance and stumble into meaning.”

The paradox

Back at Faqir Chand, tote bags and postcards may look like props, but for Bamhi, they are proof that books can function as cultural souvenirs. “At least people have some association with books now,” he says. “They are not totally alien anymore.”

Singh, meanwhile, sees a commercial upside. “Performative sales are a major component today. At least people are buying books even if they are not reading. Publishing is growing, authors are growing, so someone is purchasing, and much of it is impulse-driven.”

Perhaps that is the paradox of performative reading. For some, it is an aesthetic, for others, it’s a status symbol. But sometimes, as Sinha found, a pose turns into a practice. And either way, the performance helps keep the literary landscape alive.