K.M. Gallagher

Cottagecore. This is a word that most people became acquainted with over the pandemic, its popularity borne in part out of a desire to cope with newfound isolation by spinning it into something romantic. The aesthetic constitutes idyllic imagery of lace curtains, hillside cottages, fields of wildflowers, and an overall nostalgic feel, with vintage floral garments often contributing to the mood. In a few short years, Cottagecore evolved beyond an aesthetic—a collection of visual elements assigned to an image or individual—and into a lifestyle, a subculture. Influencers took to various social platforms to promote pastimes like foraging, baking, sewing, DIY, and embroidery, all packaged in a cohesive fashion.

Almost simultaneously there emerged a darker, angstier “twin” to Cottagecore in the form of Dark Academia. Both predate the pandemic (Dark Academia draws from works like the 1989 film Dead Poets Society and Donna Tartt’s 1992 novel The Secret History), but the pandemic placed them in the cultural consciousness, whereas before, they resided in general obscurity. The word Cottagecore slipped its way into real-life conversation, with my mother sending me more than a few garments which she called LHOP dresses (Little House on the Prairie) and asking if they were “Cottagecore enough.” Dark Academia calls to mind mahogany staircases, expansive libraries, poet sleeves, and late hours spent studying with a fountain pen in one hand and a cup of tea in another. During the pandemic, when many people suddenly found themselves with nowhere to go and a lot of time on their hands, the aesthetic also served to promote reading. Unlike Cottagecore, which has somewhat fallen out of vogue since lockdown lifted, Dark Academia, particularly its involvement with books and fashion, has remained relevant.

This gave rise to an interesting spin on cult products: books, but specific kinds of books. Books that fit into an aesthetic. Now, this isn’t new: one could argue that genres in and of themselves constitute a sort of aesthetic, and some subcultures use genres of fiction as part of their lifestyle. For instance, when I mention that Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu’s Carmilla, two classic works of gothic literature, sit among my favorite books, most people roll their eyes and say something to the effect of, “Oh, really now?” There is something worth examining in literature’s role in social identity, in the myriad ways it influences other works of art and vice versa, and perhaps the best example is goth, a music-based subculture that nevertheless draws inspiration from the aesthetic elements of gothic literature. The piece most widely considered to be the first true gothic rock song, Bauhaus’s “Bela Lugosi’s Dead,” references Bela Lugosi, the actor who played Dracula in a beloved film adaptation of the Bram Stoker novel. Literature and identity have always been intertwined. People often set themselves apart by having a favorite author or book, and in some cases these “favorites” lend some deeper insight into them as a person.

It is difficult to identify books as cult products because of the inclination to view each book as its own product, and each author as the brand. But this isn’t necessarily the case. Unlike with, say, a laptop, most people that consider reading a hobby are going to own more than one book every three to five years. As a cult product, though, books become less of a vessel through which to pursue a hobby (reading) and more of an accessory to a curated lifestyle. “Social media aesthetics have become an important means by which readers, especially young readers, engage with a text” (Hilless, 2023). These aesthetics are an ideal fit for the third in a set of seven golden rules for cult branding: “Cult brands sell lifestyles” (Ragas & Bueno, 2011). The first is that consumers “want to be part of a group that’s different” (Ragas & Bueno, 2011). There is an innate human desire to stand out, one that is contradicted by the yet more prevalent human desire to belong. The result is miniature communities that set themselves apart from the mainstream by degrees. The bookish part of TikTok is known as “BookTok,” but we can observe a variety of increasingly specific offshoots—as a writer of lesbian fiction, the subcategory I have the most experience with is lesbian- or sapphic BookTok. In many instances, this can be a positive force: people seeking representation can find parts of themselves reflected in media they otherwise wouldn’t have interacted with. Some have told me that my novel, Radio Apocalypse, was the first book with any sapphic or lesbian representation they read. This harkens back to the sixth and seventh rules of cult branding: “[cult] brands are inclusive,” and they “promote personal freedom” (Ragas & Bueno, 2011).

By the same token, books that are categorized this way can become commodified, stripped down to the barest aspects that might apply to a given lifestyle. Influencer marketing is key to the BookTok phenomenon, and to appeal to as broad an audience in as short a time frame as possible, books are often broken down to a series of enticing buzzwords, pitching their aesthetic over their substance. As pointed out by Tom Hilless (2023), literature’s aestheticization at the hands of a modern audience is “inherently un-critical.” It becomes about the content’s marketability rather than the content itself. If the fourth golden rule of cult branding is “Listen to the choir and create cult brand evangelists” (Ragas & Bueno, 2011), BookTok influencers are both the cult brand evangelists, as mouthpieces for the product, and the choir, as consumers of the product. There is always demand for more books in these increasingly narrow BookTok niches—dark academia, sun and moon, woodland fairycore. In examining the human hierarchy of needs, Maslow (1943) states that “Man is a perpetually wanting animal.” By creating a more broadly appealing identity within an existing community, cult brands, through BookTok influencers, can both create and feed this perpetual want.

Bibliography

Hilless, T. (2023, April 24). A Morbid Longing for the Picturesque: Dark Academia, The Secret History and what it means for Classics in the 21st Century. Ekklesia Magazine. https://ekklesiamag.wordpress.com/home/april-2023/a-morbid-longing-for-the-picturesque-dark-academia-the-secret-history-and-what-it-means-for-classics-in-the-21st-century/

Maslow, A. H. (1943). A Theory of Human Motivation. Psychological Review, 50(4). https://doi.org/10.1037/h0054346

Ragas, M. W., & Bueno, B. J. (2011). The Power of Cult Branding. Currency.