A summer book club is not neutral—it is a curation device. Someone decided that this novel, not another, deserves your time.
Flights by Olga Tokarczuk is real literature. The 2018 Nobel Prize is real recognition, and the novel genuinely fractures form by moving between memoir, ethnography, story fragments, and philosophical asides without resolving into the clean shape most readers expect.
But announcing it as summer reading for a behavioral science platform creates a specific effect regardless of intention. It positions the formally complex, the internationally recognized, the translated and difficult as the natural object of intellectual attention—the thing that matters, the text worth your time.
Mark Fisher wrote about hauntology—the way we're haunted by futures that never arrived—and modern literary curation operates similarly. We're haunted by the idea that serious reading looks like this: fractured, formally challenging, authored by international prize-winners, studied through conversation with leading thinkers. But inherited shapes deserve skepticism.
Do readers choose Tokarczuk because they want to, or because platforms that curate cultural authority make her the intelligible choice? Watch what people actually read alone versus what they announce they're reading together. The difference tells you something true about how culture actually gets made.