Shelf-centered: Why we buy books but never read them
Instead of feeling guilty, flip the narrative and see it as potential reading experiences
Why do we buy books that we won’t ever read?
I asked this question to my professional circles and was flooded with photographs of colourful bookshelves. Some of the bookshelves were pleasing for the eyes, with their brightly coloured covers arranged in a meticulous pattern. Some friends shared photos of sprawling libraries, where different editions of the same novel resided—yet, by their owners' own admission, had never been read.
Answering my question, Abu Dhabi-based Avantika Kaushal, a media professional explained that while she loves reading, she just never finds time. Yet, that doesn’t stop her from collecting books. “It’s an impulsive purchase. You see an intriguing cover, with a unique title and promising storyline, and that’s it. You buy it,” she says. Kaushal hopes that one day she can read all the books that she has collected over the years. It doesn’t matter if there are shelves of unread books at home: She still leaves a bookstore with bags of books and hope that one day, she can read them all.
The truth is, most of us don’t just buy books: We buy promises---promises of adventure, learning and time that we don’t have.
Kaushal isn’t the only one who shares this hope when it comes to collecting books: Kieran Gordon, an Abu Dhabi-based professional collects books too, stacking them in meticulous arrangement at home, just hoping that one day, she will find time between work and running a household to just sit on an armchair and pick up one book.
On the other hand, Haley Alexander, a Dubai-based freelancer, purchases cookbooks by the dozen, without the intention of ever making a dish as she says, cheerfully. “It’s just the experience of walking around the bookstore. I don’t intend to make any dish. When I get home, I flip through the book, enjoy the photographs, and sometimes the food history. And moreover, it just looks good on my shelf,” she says, with a laugh. Nobody wants to give away the books: Apart from the belief that they will read it when they can, the books look just so pleasing sitting on the bookshelves. Home décor, indeed.
It’s just the experience of walking around the bookstore. I don’t intend to make any dish. When I get home, I flip through the book, enjoy the photographs, and sometimes the food history. And moreover, it just looks good on my shelf...
Furthermore, apart from the impulse of aesthetics and desire for more time, for many booklovers and the bookworms, there’s a thrill in scouring bookshelves, looking through books and smelling the fresh pages. It’s the promise of a good story, an adventure, or learning something, even if they never read it again. Of course, book buying is a deeply personal hobby, and there are many reasons why a person never gets down to reading them, ranging from emotional, to perhaps, just practical.
The emotional significance of books
As Samantha Wilson, a psychologist from Dubai explains, “Books often hold a deeper emotional significance that goes beyond what’s in the pages. Sometimes, they are tied to nostalgia or sentimental value, representing specific life stages, memories, or aspirations—like a novel we bought during a vacation or a book gifted to us during a milestone moment.” Even if left unread, their presence evokes a sense of comfort and connection.
For many, the act of collecting books is a hobby in itself, filled with joy and excitement, whether it’s tracking down rare editions, curating niche genres, or simply building a personal library that feels like a reflection of one’s identity, she explains. Yet, behind every purchase, there can also be a mix of guilt and ambition—buying books becomes a declaration of our desire to grow, learn, and become better versions of ourselves. While we may not always follow through with reading, these books symbolise our intentions and the belief that knowledge or transformation is always within reach, she explains.
The practicality of time
And there are practical reasons too. Often, we overestimate our ability to read consistently, as there are far too many modern distractions. “Busy lives filled with work, family, and endless commitments make it hard to carve out time for books, while the lure of digital entertainment—be it social media, streaming platforms, or gaming—can easily take precedence,” explains Wilson. Compounding this is the challenge of shorter attention spans; the deep focus required for reading doesn’t always align with a lifestyle driven by instant gratification and constant stimulation.
And so, the guilt of letting unfinished books piles up: You feel as if you’re lagging behind and just cluttered your home.
There’s a way to rewrite that emotion, and the Japanese call it Tsundoku.
Tsundoku: The art of buying books but never reading them
The word ‘doku’ is used as a verb to mean ‘reading’. In Japanese, the ‘tsun’ in ‘tsundoku’ originates in "tsumu" - a word meaning "to pile up". So when put together, "tsundoku" has the meaning of buying reading material and piling it up. It’s a phrase that appears in a satirical text from 1879, about a teacher who has lots of books that but doesn’t read them. Yet, while tsundoku sounds like an insult, the word itself, does not carry any stigma in Japan.
Canadian author Antoine Wilson echoed this positivity, explaining that instead of staring at a tower of unfinished books that appeared to be creating a mess in the house, he tells himself it’s tsundoku: A tower of potential reading experiences. This frees the stack from negative associations. And as he wrote in his blog, there’s comfort in knowing that there are others out there like him. “Fellow impulse-purchasers, novel half-abandoners, aspirational-title-acquirers—brothers and sisters of the teetering stack. That the haphazard placement of titles around the house is not a mess, but an invitation to serendipitous rediscovery. That the seeming randomness of individual piles is not disorganisation, but a potential generator of illuminating juxtapositions,” he wrote. And so, he pulls out a book from the middle of a stack, reads a single chapter, or a story, or a passage, and replaces it, where it’s covered by another book, so he awaits the day, when he can discover it again, ‘liberate it and crack it open’ to continue where he left off.
Crucially, the concept is different from bibliomania, which is the unfettered collection of rare books like first editions. Tsundoku has intentionality behind it. It’s the awareness of gathering books and finding a home for them or of reading them in the future. It’s not hoarding for the sake of hoarding or collecting for the sake of collecting, explains Dubai-based behavioural psychologist, Caroline Jones.
With that in mind, there are several ways for tsundoku to be applied:
Reading with intention: Buying books and being deliberate with how they are read. One day you may decide to read a few chapters from a novel and put the book down. The next day, you move on to a non-fiction book for inspiration in your day-to-day life. Then, you return to the novel for its storytelling aspect.
Supporting authors and publishers: You buy a book from an independent publisher and store it. In doing so, you’re contributing to the livelihoods of a business you care about and the author who wrote it.
A waystation for books: You buy a book, store it for a certain amount of time, and then donate it to a charity shop. Your home becomes a waystation for the book as it passes into the hands of someone who is more likely to benefit from its content.
Ultimately, tsundoku is a celebration of the possibility and promise inherent in books. It’s not about the guilt of unread pages, but about the potential they represent—stories yet to be discovered and wisdom still to be gained.