Oprah’s Book Club, which began in 1996, is wildly successful. Their special editions generate millions of dollars in revenue for retail bookstores. Her picks rank higher and stay longer on the best sellers list. Her book club is still active, with a loyal fanbase and the potential to make authors and booksellers a lot of money. 

The celebrity book club, pioneered by Oprah, has morphed into one of the most popular side businesses for influencers and celebrities of all fame levels. Reese Witherspoon, Kaia Gerber, Dua Lipa, Emma Watson, Laufey, Lena Dunham, Emma Roberts, and, most recently, Jeremiah Brown of Love Island fame, have all come to host their own spaces for readers to discuss (or just carry around) a certain type of book.

BookTok has made it infinitely simpler to commodify and capitalize on literature. One reason these book clubs are on the rise is that it’s so easy to start one, especially for those who already have mass followings. That being said, not all celebrity book clubs are created equal. Picks from Reese Witherspoon’s book club, or rather Reese Witherspoon’s “literary empire,” reliably outdo even Oprah’s selections. Her company Hello Sunshine, which includes Reese’s Book Club and her production company, recently sold for $900 million. On the other hand, many celebrity book clubs truly seem to just be spaces to share beloved books. Emma Watson’s book club, which is not currently active, was inspired by her work with UN Women and exists as a humble but popular Goodreads group for people to share empowering feminist literature. 

The majority of newer celebrity book clubs, namely those by younger celebrities who gained fame on social media, don’t seem like they’re prioritizing money or empowerment. They appear to be farming coolness as a social good, which ultimately robs people of the satisfaction provided by learning through literature. On Kaia Gerber’s site, Library Science, you won’t find her face anywhere on the website — with the exception of the site’s shop, where you can buy a pink baby tee that says “Hot / Can Read.” It’s a cute shirt, but it exemplifies my primary concern with the celebrity book club. I think they cause young people to pay more attention to literature and be praised for that, and I know they help booksellers move merchandise. However, I still doubt their influence over what and how much people are actually reading. 

Rather than exposing us to new books, these book clubs notoriously select the same or very similar picks each month. Often, they recommend already popular best sellers. Library Science launched with their recommendation of Sally Rooney’s “Normal People,” four years after the book, which debuted on The New York Times  Best Seller List at No. 3, was originally published. The book club went on to recommend lauded classics like “The Picture of Dorian Gray” and “Play It As It Lays.” Does anyone really need a book club to put Joan Didion on their desk? Twice? (Five months later, the pick was “Let Me Tell You What I Mean.”) 

I acknowledge that when book clubs get their selections right, they get them right. I’ve noticed that the other books, the ones not already wildly popular when first recommended, very regularly expose readers to cultures or contexts with which they may not have been familiar. Some of my favorites I’ve seen on these lists include “Severance” by Ling Ma, “In the Dream House” by Carmen Maria Machado, and “James” by Percival Everett. 

There is also certainly a correlation between selections made by celebrity book clubs and the biggest trend in publishing — a cover with a famous painting (usually of a distressed-looking white woman), neon text, and a big, bold font. Think “My Year of Rest and Relaxation,” “Hungerstone,” or “Lapvona.” According to The New York Times, “These covers are the new signifiers of stylish literary fiction, telegraphing gravitas, wit and cool.”

Books have become the perfect accessories — similar to the way you dress, they tell other people something about you. Maybe even something flattering — that you’re smarter or cooler or more interesting than the person on their phone beside you. We know that reading is cool again. But based on their (mostly) predictable selections, I’d argue that reading as a trend is the cause of many of these book clubs rather than the effect. 

In this oversaturation of book recommendations and novels as accessories, we’re losing some of the things that make engaging with literature so wonderful. When we read, we build our capacity to think critically about how fiction may be working to break down the systems that put that book in our hands in the first place (whether that be through defamiliarization, close reading, or comparative dystopia). By buying these books just to have them on our shelves or carry around with us, we give them less power to make our lives better, richer, and happier. 

Maybe it’s just the English major in me, but I am a firm believer that reading books with intention, specifically fiction, makes us better people. And I’m not arguing against celebrity book clubs. I’m just hoping that, if you choose to join one, you think about where their selection is coming from, make sure your own bookshelf is diversified, and take the time to read whatever text it is with care, because that’s ultimately how you yourself are going to get the most out of it.