Is it just me or do books about book people have a tendency to be almost… insulting? Like, you know your reader is a pretty serious book person if they’re reading a mid-list cozy mystery about sisters who own a bookstore, “reads a lot” isn’t going to cut it as an interesting personality trait!
I just finished one where the protagonist is constantly “guiltily” going on about fireplaces and slippers (which, okay, it is cold where she is but grow a spine about it and also you’re not special, you can watch Netflix in wool cardigans) but we don’t actually get anything from her in terms of book taste or reading motivations or… anything, really. Like, at one point she picks up a book in Greek in her bookshop that she doesn’t recognize and instead of looking it up or asking her sister or reading the dang bar code to shelve it she just sort of sets it various places around the shop to test the vibes? Truly nonsensical bookseller behavior tbqh.
