Last week, in the London bookshop where I work, a customer asked me for a walking guide. I was taking her through some options when she abruptly started typing on her phone. “ChatGPT recommended this. Do you have it?” We soon found what she wanted, but we’d sacrificed the human element of simply having a chat. She left in a hurry; I was left reeling.

It’s becoming more and more common for customers to show me books recommended to them by an LLM (often in the same guilty, hushed tone as admitting to ordering a book from Amazon). Maybe they want something mournful yet cosy, similar to Before the Coffee Gets Cold, or are looking for the next Atomic Habits. Possibly another sprawling family narrative like Pachinko, or something as devastating as Sally Rooney’s latest. Perhaps they need a guide to Guyana, or the perfect present for their well-read aunt. Seeing AI-generated reading lists on my customer’s phones – and knowing that nearly six in ten UK adults use AI – has left me wondering: is browsing dead?

Danielle Moylan, owner of Lala Books, has also encountered a customer who’d used AI to discover new books. “She came in looking perplexed. I asked her if she needed help, and she shared that she loved this one book, but the two she’d read afterwards that she’d heard were similar hadn’t been quite right.” The customer told Moylan the books. She instantly knew where the recommendations had come from. “I asked her if she’d used AI. There was something about those recommendations. They were in the same genre, but just didn’t have the emotional soul of the first book. They couldn’t have come from a bookseller.”

In a fast-moving era, bots that churn out information appeal to time-precious workers. A reading recommendation generated in a few taps is a quick, energy-saving solution to the conundrum of ‘what do I read next?’, particularly in a moment where the book in your hands can signal exactly how tuned-in to the cultural zeitgeist you are. But what do we lose when we bypass browsing and turn to AI to curate our reading choices? 

Last year, The Chicago Sun-Times newspaper ran a summer reading list, which included Nightshade Market by Min Jin Lee, Migrations by Maggie O’Farrell and The Rainmakers by Percival Everett. But none of these titles exist: the titles had been hallucinated by a chatbot, and the list was sent to print without having been fact-checked by a human. But its fallibility aside, AI isn’t actually a true representation of what’s out there. The reading choices that AI vomits out pander to commercial interests using algorithms which reward whatever is already popular. ChatGPT can’t find the indie titles, small presses and debut authors that deserve attention. Due to algorithmic bias, it is far less likely to recommend books by authors of colour or translated fiction.

Just when we thought we were returning to analogue, it’s dismaying for booksellers to see the best parts of our job – human connection, and matching you with the right book – threatened with obsolescence. In Korea, you can get an AI-generated, personalised reading list in your local library, bypassing the need to interact with the librarian. A third space like an independent bookshop or library revolves around care, attention and personalised recommendations, not simply transactional efficiency. Matt, who works at community bookshop Morocco Bound in Bermondsey, says he believes using AI “rips away human creativity, makes us dumber and destroys individualism.”

Recommending a book is, at its core, recommending an emotion to people. AI can’t feel emotions. Booksellers can

However, the impact of AI on individual reading habits is complicated. People want to read – they’re still coming into bookshops, and seeking out recommendations, after all – but some may favour generic internet recommendations over asking a bookseller who knows their stock inside-out. While Madeleine, a bookseller, generally “hates” AI, she recognises one benefit. “It’s removed a certain barrier to reading,” she admits, “if you feel intimidated by a large selection of books, or the idea of talking to someone you might perceive as more well-read. In an ideal world, more people are reading.”

But, she adds: “AI destroys individual taste.” And in an age of constant online bombardment and soulless algorithms, cultivating your own taste feels more important than ever. If you’re getting the same reading recs as everyone else who types into Gemini that they loved Demon Copperhead, you may get a quick result, but it encourages a boring, conformist culture dominated by a handful of best-selling authors. You're not going to diversify your reading to the same degree as talking to your local bookseller or taking the time to browse the shelves. Something as routine as choosing a book can still be a creative task. As Bret Stephens writes in the New York Times: “We become more creative when we learn how to put a personal stamp even on routine things, making them unmistakably our own.”

And if you don’t like the next book you pick up? It’s not a waste of time to encounter something that develops your own tastes. As Ben, a chef and aspiring novelist, says: “Just put the book down. Reading a book you don’t love, sitting with that discomfort, is way more useful than reading ten books you like.” Madeleine agrees: “if you can’t take a risk with the books you’re reading, how are you going to take a risk anywhere else?”

How do we keep AI out of the sacred space of bookshops? Easy: forgo the chatbots, consider the humble chat. Get to your local community bookshop like Morocco Bound in Bermondsey, Funny Weather near Hampstead Heath, or Lala Books in Camberwell. As Moylan puts it, “Books are there to be handled, and if you want to have a chat, please do. Community starts with small moments of reaching out to each other.” Celeste and Ed from Funny Weather get it too: “Recommending a book is, at its core, recommending an emotion to people. AI can’t feel emotions. Booksellers can.”

So, join a book club. Talk to friends about their current read. Ask a bookseller what they can’t stop thinking about. Get a tailored recommendation. Slow down, cultivate your own tastes, and, most importantly, bring back browsing.