The Unforgivable Sins of BookTube's PolandBananasBooks

You can spot a BookTuber by their shelfie—a bookshelf organized by color, sometimes rainbow-bright, sometimes stacked two books deep, always packed to impress. The BookTube community, a sprawling corner of YouTube launched around 2010, now counts hundreds of thousands of viewers and features channels in English, Spanish, Portuguese, and more. Christine Riccio, known as PolandBananasBooks, was among the first to turn books and banter into a massive following. Today, creators like Jack Edwards, Isabella Lubrano, Tatiana Feltrin, Cindy Pham (withcindy), and Hannah Azerang (A Clockwork Reader) command subscriber counts that reach into the hundreds of thousands.

People flock to BookTube for the energy and connection. Videos range from reviews and unboxings to bookshelf tours and TBR—"to be read"—lists. Some creators, like Jesse George (Jesse the Reader) or Kat O’Keefe (katytastic), turn reading into a spectacle with book hauls and challenges. Others, like Clau R. (ClauReadsBooks) and Dakota Warren, blend literary criticism with personality-driven vlogs.

But beneath the cheery thumbnails and book stacks, BookTube faces persistent criticism—and some of it leaves a mark. The biggest tension? Gatekeeping and genre snobbery. It’s the accusation that some BookTubers, intentionally or not, decide which books, readers, and creators “count” as part of the club.

Gatekeeping often takes the form of dismissing certain genres as less worthy. Young adult fiction dominates the platform, but when creators dip into romance, horror, or even comics, they sometimes face pushback or outright derision from other BookTubers or commenters. This creates an unspoken hierarchy of “approved” books and leaves certain genres in the margins. For example, while BookTube channels often celebrate young adult fantasy or literary fiction, genres like paranormal romance and superhero comics are less frequently championed or are treated as guilty pleasures.

Another layer of the problem comes from the visible faces of BookTube itself. BookTube has a handful of creators with massive reach—Jack Edwards, Ariel Bissett, Pam Gonçalves, and Daniel Greene among them. Critics point out that many of the most-subscribed BookTubers are white and often focus on the same popular titles, creating an echo chamber. The result: Black BookTubers and other creators of color tend to receive fewer views and subscribers, even as they call out the lack of diversity in both BookTube and the publishing industry itself. In December 2020, outspoken BookTubers began publishing videos directly addressing this imbalance, sharing their own experiences and urging viewers to seek out marginalized voices.

This tension didn’t appear overnight. The pressure to conform started as BookTube became a recognized marketing channel for the publishing industry. Publishers, especially the “Big Five”—Hachette, HarperCollins, MacMillan, Penguin Random House, and Simon & Schuster—quickly began sending advanced reader copies (ARCs) to BookTubers with large followings. These ARCs sometimes arrive with exclusive swag, aiming to generate hype and buzz before a book’s release. It’s a win for publishers, but it means the same books are often reviewed by the same circle of creators, while lesser-known or self-published authors rarely break through.

The culture of BookTube reinforces these divides. There’s a specific set of traditions: Readathons, where BookTubers host mass reading events; shout-outs, where they recommend one another; and collabs, where two or more BookTubers tackle a theme together on camera. But these events often circle around the same set of creators, making it harder for new voices to break in. The result is a feedback loop—more visibility leads to more ARCs, more subscribers, and more collaborations, leaving smaller creators on the outside.

Some of the financial pressure adds another layer to this gatekeeping. BookTubers with large audiences make money from video monetization, affiliate links, and sponsorships. There’s an implicit pressure to display a full, aesthetically pleasing bookshelf, regardless of whether every book has actually been read. This consumerism is sometimes called out by creators themselves, who admit to feeling compelled to buy and show off more books than they can finish. A 2018 study in the Journal of Adolescent & Adult Literacy described these “participatory pressures” as a defining feature of BookTube, where appearance can outweigh actual reading.

A related issue is the emphasis on English-language content. While BookTube channels exist globally, the most visible creators and most-hyped books are often English-speaking and US- or UK-based, leaving international and translated works at a disadvantage. For instance, the Spanish-language BookTube scene includes pioneers like Fa Orozco of Las Palabras de Fa and Andrea Izquierdo of AndreoRowling, both of whom have published their own books and built substantial audiences. However, many of their viewers note that English-language BookTubers and titles tend to dominate global conversations and collaborations.

Some creators have crossed from BookTube into publishing, like Sasha Alsberg (abookutopia), who wrote “Zenith” with Lindsay Cummings, and Christine Riccio, who authored “Again, but better.” Their success has inspired others but also sparked debate about whether BookTube is becoming less about books and more about personal branding and career advancement.

So who feels the impact of these sins? Viewers who see their tastes or backgrounds ignored may feel unwelcome or invisible. Smaller creators struggle to get noticed when publishing houses and viewers focus on a core group of mega-popular BookTubers. Authors who write outside the dominant genres or represent marginalized identities may find their work perpetually sidelined.

Is the criticism fair? Some creators argue that BookTube is inherently shaped by audience demand—creators make content that gets views, and viewers flock to what they already enjoy. Others counter that BookTubers have a responsibility to challenge trends, spotlight underrepresented creators, and call out their own bias.

The debate rages in comment sections and discussion videos across the platform. Some BookTubers produce entire series focused on boosting marginalized voices or reading only books by BIPOC authors for a month. Others push back, saying the community should remain organic and that calls for more diversity and genre representation can feel forced or performative.

There is also ongoing debate about the influence of publisher marketing. When ARCs and sponsorships go primarily to the same group of creators, is it possible for BookTube to remain a space for honest, grassroots recommendations? Is BookTube now an extension of the publishing industry’s marketing arm, or can it still offer genuine, community-driven discovery?