Editor’s Note:

Hey gang, have you noticed this weird phenomenon that’s been happening lately? It’s been creeping into social media feeds, articles are being written about it, and celebrities are jumping on board. Friends, reading has become cool.

Dua Lipa has a book club. Coach is selling fully readable mini books that you can attach to your handbags. Fashion House Miu Miu has launched a salon-style Literary Club in Milan. There are books all over the catwalks.

Quick, somebody go back to 1991 and tell nine-year-old Gemma that, while her style choices will always be somewhat questionable, her love of books will one day be the height of fashion. Oh, and while you’re there, tell her that she grows into her teeth, her sister doesn’t hate her, and she was right about New Kids on the Block. She’ll know what you mean.

But back to the present day. I’m not surprised that reading is experiencing a glow-up. There’s a reason that books have survived the advent of radio, television and the internet. In fact, I’d argue that these things are now contributing to the resurgence of the literary lifestyle. Nobody feels good when they learn they’ve been duped by AI into believing that pandas can skateboard. People are sick of ads, vocal fry, bad news, the manosphere, and the undeniable feeling of our brains rotting away.

As we all well know, books offer something that we don’t get much of anymore: a pure, personal journey of curiosity and escape. A self-determined rhythm. An unadulterated experience of our own choosing. Yeah, that’s hot.

For more super-chic reading, start flipping these pages. You’ll get stories about bookselling, Sylvia Plath, childhood, boggy hikes, banned books, reading retreats, marathon training, literary ghosts, reading parties, and what not reading can teach you. And you can read it in your sweatpants, because we readers—regardless of fashion trends—are, and always have been, the coolest.

Gemma Peckham

Editor

Oh Reader