Cult. Circuit #001: Why Sydney’s Independent Bookstores Still Matter.
The Reading Question
“Do you read?”
It feels like a pointed, or maybe even sarcastic, question to ask someone in 2026. At least that’s how it’s felt recently. It makes me sound older than I am. But I still like asking it because if the answer is yes, I get to yap about my favourite reads, bookstores and the thoughts that eventually found their way into this editorial.
Putting aside any anxiety that comes with asking the reading question, hearing someone reply, “Yeah, I’m reading…” feels like discovering the code word to a secret club. You get that warm spark of familiarity you find in any niche community, whether it’s cooking, sneakers, hardcore music or antiquing, that tells you this stranger is in on something you care about too. It’s comforting. Addictive, even.
I’m sitting at a small table inside Berkelouw Books in Paddington. Established in 1812 and still family-owned six generations later, it’s one of Sydney’s great independent bookstores, quietly watching Oxford Street roll by outside. It feels like the perfect place to begin the very first issue of Cult. Circuit.
Because this isn’t really about books.
It’s about why independent bookstores still matter.
People often say independent bookstores are quaint or cosy, but those clichés exist because there’s truth behind them. These businesses survive almost entirely because people love stories, ideas and art. They’re cultural hubs, quietly sitting at the intersection of community, leisure and discovery.
Their shelves stretch far beyond whatever algorithm currently thinks you should read next. Every now and then, I remember there’s a very real limit to how many books I’ll read in my lifetime. Independent bookstores house collections so vast you’ll never scratch the surface. That could sound intimidating, but I’d rather call it being spoiled for choice.
So where do you start?
Berkelouw
Talking to the young, bright clerk behind the Berkelouw counter, it felt like he’d been waiting all day for someone to ask what he was reading. I mentioned Blood Meridian, which he’d already read, before he immediately recommended The Road. Twenty minutes disappeared into conversations about novels, recommendations and shelves he seemed to know with sniper-like accuracy.
It’s a completely different experience from scrolling through online listings of the same title on your laptop. The convenience of online shopping has turned buying books into something as transactional as replacing a broken vacuum cleaner. Berkelouw preserves something else entirely: the pleasure of browsing, genuine conversation and unexpected discovery.
One of the biggest myths about bookstores is that they’re boring. It couldn’t be further from the truth. Books engage every sense. The weight changes from one title to another. Covers feel different beneath your fingertips. Paper carries its own smell, one that somehow drags childhood memories back into the room before you’ve even started reading.
The polished mahogany shelves at Berkelouw are lined with patient rows of stories waiting to be picked up. Conversations drift softly between the aisles. Someone laughs. A child sounds out a difficult word from a cover. Somewhere nearby, coffee is being made. Twenty minutes somehow become twenty seconds. Time feels strangely elastic inside a good bookstore.
Another surprise? Books are cheaper than people often think. Twenty dollars can buy something that keeps you occupied for weeks, maybe months. More importantly, anyone can walk in. You don’t need expertise, you don’t need to know the classics, and you certainly don’t need permission. Places like Berkelouw might look grand, with multiple floors, glass walls and a dedicated café, but they’re for everyone. Sometimes they feel less like shops and more like places for quiet reflection.
Why They Matter
Most people’s exposure to books today comes through social media, celebrity recommendations or whatever title is currently dominating airport displays. There’s nothing wrong with that, but independent bookstores widen the conversation.
Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian remains one of my all-time favourite novels. It’s violent, poetic, philosophical and nearly forty years old. You’re unlikely to stumble across it because an algorithm decided today’s the day you should read it. I found it because someone in an independent bookstore told me to.
That’s what these places offer, not just books, but people, recommendations, unexpected conversations and, ultimately, community.
The famously solitary hobby ironically opens the door to one of the richest communities you’ll find. Stories have always been how humans make sense of themselves, and independent bookstores quietly protect that tradition every single day. They’re as culturally important as museums, galleries or historic landmarks, not because they’re frozen in time, but because they’re still evolving with the people who walk through their doors.
Whether you’re a hedge fund manager, a university student, a retired bricklayer carrying flowers home, or a tourist wandering Oxford Street, the invitation is exactly the same.
Walk in.
Pick something up.
Sometimes you’re allowed to judge a book by its cover.
Whatever gets you started.
THE CIRCUIT
Great Independent Bookstores to Check Out in Sydney
Your gateway to an afternoon of slow browsing, genuine conversations and unexpected discoveries. These are the bookstores that continue to keep Sydney’s literary culture alive.
Berkelouw Books
One of Australia’s oldest independent bookstores, known for its beautifully curated shelves, knowledgeable staff and upstairs café overlooking Oxford Street.
📍 19 Oxford Street, Paddington NSW 2021
