The BookTok trend

The BookTok Trend Won’t Last Forever. Or Will It?

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Table of Contents

Introduction

It started innocently enough: a few readers on TikTok sharing heartfelt reactions to books they loved. Tear-streaked faces, annotated paperbacks, dramatic music swells. Suddenly, sales of titles like It Ends With Us and The Song of Achilles exploded. Publishers took notice, and BookTok was born—not as a company or a startup, but as a phenomenon.

Fast forward to 2025, and the BookTok trend has become one of the most powerful forces in book marketing. But here’s the catch: trends on TikTok are fleeting. For every viral dance or lip-sync challenge that reshaped the app, hundreds more fizzled into obscurity. So, will BookTok endure, or is it just another wave destined to crash?

Let’s dig deeper because understanding BookTok’s future isn’t just about social media. It’s about publishing, fandom, culture, and the economics of attention.

What Exactly Is BookTok?

BookTok refers to the community of readers and content creators on TikTok who share videos about books. These might include book reviews, recommendations, emotional reactions, aesthetic bookshelf tours, and even elaborate fan theories. The platform thrives on virality, and the algorithm has an uncanny ability to push emotionally resonant content to massive audiences.

Unlike traditional book marketing campaigns, the BookTok trend is organic in nature. It’s driven by authenticity and passion. One teary-eyed video about a novel’s tragic ending can push a midlist title to bestseller status overnight. Colleen Hoover, once a quiet name in romance publishing, owes much of her meteoric success to this ecosystem. The same goes for Madeline Miller, Taylor Jenkins Reid, Emily Henry, and a rotating cast of contemporary authors who’ve become household names thanks to TikTok.

But that power has a flip side. BookTok trends are unpredictable. Today’s darling is tomorrow’s cringe. Which raises the question: can this model sustain itself in the long run?

A Publishing Revolution in Real Time

Let’s not downplay the numbers. According to Circana (formerly NPD BookScan), BookTok helped boost U.S. adult fiction sales by around 50% year-over-year in 2022. While BookTok remained influential in 2023, its growth rate slowed compared to the previous year. In 2024, BookTok-linked titles accounted for more than 20% of all fiction unit sales in the U.S. during certain months. Similar trends were observed in other major markets, such as the U.K. That’s not just “influence.” That’s market dominance.

Even backlist titles have found new life. Books released years ago—We Were Liars, Thirteen Reasons Why, Shatter Me—suddenly surge in popularity thanks to one well-timed video. That kind of exposure used to require a full-blown re-release campaign, paid ads, and a PR blitz. Now, it just takes 15 seconds and the right soundbite.

This isn’t just a win for authors. Retailers like Barnes & Noble began dedicating in-store displays to “BookTok Favorites,” while indie bookstores have scrambled to keep up with the whiplash-inducing shifts in demand. Publishers have begun recruiting full-time TikTok strategists, and some authors now sign contracts that are partially based on their social media presence.

That’s a revolution. But revolutions are, by nature, unstable. And sometimes, they’re co-opted by the very systems they once disrupted.

What the BookTok Trend Does Well (and Why It Works)

At its best, BookTok taps into something timeless: emotional connection. It reimagines word-of-mouth for the digital age. People don’t just want to know what book to read. They want to know how it will make them feel. That emotional charge is what sells. A person sobbing in their car after finishing a novel is more compelling than a glowing 500-word New York Times review.

The platform also privileges diversity in voice and form. Marginalized authors, neurodivergent perspectives and stories that may have been overlooked by traditional gatekeepers are suddenly finding massive audiences. TikTok’s algorithm has no patience for elitism. It rewards authenticity, not credentials. It loves messiness, vulnerability, and chaos. And readers love it too.

There’s something delightfully rebellious about BookTok’s aesthetic. It doesn’t care about the “canon.” It’ll put The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo on the same pedestal as The Iliad, and no one blinks. That kind of flattening of literary hierarchy gives power back to readers, especially young readers, who’ve long been told what counts as “serious” literature.

Plus, BookTok democratizes influence. You don’t need a publishing deal, a PhD in literature, or a marketing budget to go viral. You just need a phone, an honest reaction, and the right timing. In the old days, you needed a platform. Now, you just need to hit “record.”

This spontaneity gives BookTok its charm. But it also makes it fragile.

The Cracks Are Already Showing

Today, BookTok isn’t the underground phenomenon it once was. It’s been commercialized, co-opted, and, some argue, corrupted. Publishing houses now engineer campaigns to mimic grassroots enthusiasm. Influencers are being paid to cry on cue. The authenticity that once defined the community feels, at times, like a well-rehearsed marketing script.

Some viewers are getting fatigued. Scroll through the #BookTok tag and you’ll find complaints: too many recycled recommendations, too many “sad girl” books with the same tropes, too much performative emotion. It’s not that the content has disappeared; it’s just starting to feel like an echo chamber.

There’s also been backlash against certain titles that BookTok overhyped. Some readers feel burned after picking up a trending book that didn’t live up to the drama. This creates skepticism. When everything is “life-changing,” nothing is. The credibility of BookTok influencers—once their biggest asset—starts to erode.

Then there’s TikTok itself. The platform faces increasing regulation globally. Countries like the U.S. have flirted with banning it or forcing divestment from its Chinese parent company, ByteDance. In some regions, content moderation policies are becoming increasingly stringent. If TikTok’s dominance slips—either because of legal hurdles, user migration, or algorithmic changes—BookTok goes down with the ship.

And let’s not forget: TikTok is a young person’s game. What happens when the Gen Z readers who built BookTok age out of it? Will the next generation of readers find the same value in vertical videos? Or will they crave something quieter, more curated, less emotionally performative?

BookTok Isn’t Dead Yet

Despite these concerns, BookTok isn’t going away tomorrow. If anything, it’s evolving.

Savvier creators are shifting their focus toward deeper engagement. Instead of just ranking their top five romance books of the month, they’re doing in-depth book essays, genre commentary, and even publishing advice. A few have started mini-series: “What to Read if You Loved…” or “Plot Twists That Actually Shocked Me.” These retain emotional impact but also offer more substance.

There’s also been a quiet migration of creators toward multi-platform storytelling. Some BookTok influencers now have Instagram carousels, YouTube reviews, and Substack newsletters. They use TikTok as a hook, but then deepen the conversation elsewhere. That cross-platform strategy is key for long-term relevance.

Some BookTok influencers are transitioning into authors themselves. Take Alex Aster, who parlayed her TikTok following into a major book deal with Lightlark. Or Lucy Score, whose romance novels have seen a massive boost thanks to social media support. This blurring of lines between reader, influencer, and author is reshaping what it means to “break into publishing.”

Moreover, traditional publishers are now treating TikTok as part of a broader media ecosystem. BookTok isn’t the only engine. It’s one gear in a larger machine that includes Bookstagram, BookTube, Goodreads, and increasingly, Discord book clubs and newsletter-driven fandoms. The question isn’t “Will BookTok survive?” It’s “What form will it take next?”

BookTok vs. Book Culture: What’s the Legacy?

Let’s say BookTok does eventually burn out. What then?

One possibility is that it leaves behind a fundamentally changed book market. In this scenario, BookTok is less like a passing fad and more like the Gutenberg press, a radical shift that permanently alters who gets published, who gets read, and how readers discover stories.

Even if TikTok becomes irrelevant, publishers will still chase virality. They’ve tasted what grassroots buzz can do. Marketing budgets will continue shifting toward platforms where emotional storytelling drives sales. The BookTok ethos—relatability, reaction, rawness—may stick around long after the platform that birthed it is gone.

Another scenario is that BookTok’s collapse creates a vacuum. Readers, tired of algorithmic curation, may return to trusted critics, curated lists, or even local booksellers. The pendulum could swing back toward expertise over emotion. Or perhaps a new platform will emerge, one that surpasses BookTok’s achievements.

BookTok might also fracture into niche micro-communities. Already, there’s “Romantok,” “FantasyTok,” “DarkAcademiaTok,” and “SpicyTok.” If the main ecosystem collapses, those subcultures might persist independently, forming smaller, more loyal reader communities.

Either way, BookTok has sparked a cultural conversation about what reading means in the digital age. That won’t vanish.

Beyond TikTok: What Comes Next?

The smartest BookTokers are already hedging their bets. They’re building email lists. They’re starting book-related podcasts. They’re moving to YouTube for longer-form content. Why? Because no one wants to be left behind if TikTok loses its magic. Or its audience.

Publishers are doing the same. They’re investing in reader communities, not just influencers. They’re exploring serialized content, gamified reading apps, and AI-curated reading journeys. Some are even flirting with Web3 experiments, although let’s not open that can of crypto worms just yet.

There’s also the continued rise of fan fiction platforms, serialized fiction apps, and community-based recommendation engines. Platforms like Substack, Wattpad (still thriving), and Ream are gaining traction among readers who want more than 30-second videos. These platforms offer depth, conversation, and loyalty. BookTok may have made reading feel viral; these new models are making it feel personal again.

If BookTok was the bonfire, these newer models may be the hearth. Smaller, cozier, but longer-lasting.

Conclusion

So, will BookTok last forever? Probably not in its current form. Social platforms rarely do. But will the spirit of BookTok—the passion, the emotion, the sense of discovery—persist in some form? Absolutely.

BookTok is both a product of its time and a driver of lasting change. Like a great plot twist, its ending might surprise us. It may burn out. It may evolve. Or it might quietly become the new normal. But either way, the publishing industry will never be the same.

If you’re a reader, savor the moment. If you’re a publisher, pay attention. If you’re a writer, lean in, but also diversify. Because TikTok might be here today and gone tomorrow. But the hunger for story? That never fades.

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