The book-in-back-pocket epidemic: When literature becomes an aesthetic
Are celebrities turning classic literature into just another fashion statement?
In the digital age of social media, even literature has become an accessory. The latest trend? Celebrities like Timothée Chalamet and Harry Styles are being photographed carrying around novels, transforming classic literature into a fashion statement that’s more about aesthetics than actual reading.
The phenomenon began with a viral photo of Jacob Elordi browsing books at a Sydney airport, dressed in a leather jacket and cargo pants stuffed with literary tomes. TikTok quickly transformed this moment into a full-blown trend: men are now accessorizing their outfits with well-known classics tightly squeezed into denim pockets.
There’s an undeniable allure to a “pretty man who reads.” Intelligence and emotional depth are attractive, and the presence of a book enhances that allure. But beneath this carefully curated aesthetic, these “pretty men” might dilute the appreciation of literature. It’s a symptom of our performative culture, where the real experience matters less than its Instagram-worthy presentation. It’s no longer enough to read: one must be seen reading, photographed reading, even styled reading.
This isn’t the first time intellectual pursuit has been reduced to a visual prop. Remember the era of fake glasses? Those non-prescription frames that transformed anyone into an instant “intellectual” without the intellectual rigour? The book-in-back-pocket trend feels remarkably similar: a superficial performance. Bookstores have long marketed certain novels based on their aesthetic appeal—think of all the “special” editions of your favourite bestsellers. What is new, however, is the role of literature in shaping male (celebrity) identity. Just as thick-rimmed glasses and cigarette-smoking symbolized a tortured genius, a dog-eared copy of Infinite Jest now serves as a shortcut to intelligence.
Beyond the aesthetic implications, the books people carry also have political weight. Reading is inherently political: books shape perspectives, inform ideologies, and challenge worldviews. When celebrities are photographed with certain books, they are making implicit statements. This can be beneficial, drawing attention to important works that might otherwise remain in academic or niche literary circles. But it can also be performative. Is carrying The Handmaid’s Tale a genuine sign of worrying about women’s rights and reproductive freedom or simply an attempt to appear socially aware of the current political climate?
The most unsettling thing isn’t that books have become props. It’s that we’ve grown used to it. We expect that the novel in the pocket exists to be seen rather than read, that its presence is merely a performance. When did literature become a thing to be worn rather than interacted with? Maybe it was always this way. Maybe we have always wanted our beauty to be tempered by intellect and our idols to be the same. Or maybe we are losing something–the secret magic of reading–when books become another surface to be admired rather than a doorway to something deeper. When asked about the trend, Elordi himself dismissed it, saying, “I think people need to get out more, maybe.” He might be right.
