by Liv Carlisle

A decade ago, my grandparents gifted me a Kindle for Christmas. The Kindle editions were cheaper, and accessible without even leaving my home. The device was lighter, more convenient and took up less space than a physical copy – but it never replaced my love for physical books.

Hardcovers and paperbacks may be bulkier, more expensive and occasionally infuriating (the rumours of a non-matching cover for the next Sarah J. Maas books had me tearing my hair out), but there is something about a tangible book that an eBook just can’t beat. 

Shelf trophies

Much like a dragon with its treasure, I love collecting, displaying (and possibly hoarding) my books. I, alongside most of Booktok and Bookstagram, have carefully styled my bookshelves to be both organised and beautiful, always ready for a ‘shelfie’.

Blogger Martijn Keesmaat says: ‘I see every book I read as a trophy. A trophy is something that has to be earned. You display it on a shelf and feel proud when you look at it.’ And why shouldn’t the time we invest in reading our books be recognised, somehow? Shouldn’t that accomplishment be tracked in some physical, tangible way?

Having a copy of a book on display provides readers with a sense of accomplishment. It also allows book owners to express their cultural capital to visitors, establishing themselves as frequent readers.

Preservation of physical media

In 2026, Amazon sent shockwaves through the eReader community by announcing that they would no longer provide support to kindles released before or during 2012. Readers who owned certain models will no longer be able to download new books from the Amazon store, and performing a factory reset will render the device unusable.

For many Kindle users, this was very upsetting. Those who owned affected devices were dismayed by the thought of losing a 14-year-long collection, while those who owned newer ones feared their developing collections could be next on the chopping block.

This ability – for a whole collection to be lost – is a trap that’s becoming more and more common in digital media. Streaming services, such as Netflix, regularly remove films and TV shows due to licensing issues or low view counts. In the gaming sphere, Sony has announced that it will cease production of physical disks in 2028, leaving consumers with digital downloads as the only purchase option. In many arts disciplines, it is becoming increasingly clear: the only way to permanently own media is to own a physical copy.

A printed codex may be bulkier than an eReader but, in most cases, it is a once-off purchase that allows you to continue to own the media for as long as you choose. In this way, physical books provide an independent ownership of entertainment that digital copies do not.

Consumerism culture and physical books

Of course, as with all things, consumerist culture plays a large part of book collections.

In Japan, the word ‘Tsundoku’ reflects the practice of collecting books and letting them fill up your house without reading them. Certainly, there are many book buyers who purchase with the intention of reading – but there is also a large community of people who do not. Whether they choose to buy books for pleasure, for decor, for cultural capital or even simply out of a consumerist desire to own, these people rely on physical books to satisfy their Tsundoku urges.

Whether their books are read or not, publishing houses are aware that collectors enjoy displaying book trophies and, as such, produce special editions of popular novels or new cover designs of classics. Penguin Publishing House found great success with their 2011 imprint Penguin Threads, which featured a range of classic novels with embroidered covers. More recently bestsellers such as Ana Huang’s Twisted series are being republished as special editions with hardcovers, original artworks and sprayed edges. These pretty editions have become so popular that entire companies, such as Fairyloot, are dedicated to developing them.

Special edition covers are, however, a double-edged sword, a fact many readers are learning ahead of the much-anticipated release of the new Sarah J. Maas book. Cover art rumours caused online panic as users feared the new book wouldn’t match previous volumes. Additionally, the trend of initially publishing novels in a trade paperback format, larger than the ongoing mass market editions, has caused strife amongst those who want to read the book and curate an aesthetic bookshelf.

Despite the consumerist pitfalls of physical media, it remains my favourite way to consume books. My Kindle, beloved as it is, is typically reserved for travelling, when space and weight are hard to come by. And, as we move increasingly into a digital arts world, I am more than happy to stand by tradition and show off my shelf trophies.

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Liv Carlisle is a writer and theatre maker from Naarm, currently studying a Masters of Creative Writing, Editing and Publishing. She is a self-proclaimed library who reads over 250 books a year.

Cover image is by Liv Carlisle