Anatomy of a proper book fair haul

Every so often, especially around this time of year, I see a promising flyer for an “Adult Scholastic Book Fair!!!” event pop up. The words alone fill me with anticipation. One of the running jokes of our time is our communal, desperate ache for those school-era Book Fairs, and everything they represented at the time.

I will attend every single event billed as a Grownup Book Fair, but after visiting enough of these, I’ve found these usually miss the mark. The tables are too carefully curated, the lighting too moody, and there’s a distinct lack of bubble-lettered signage. They’re lovely, but they’re not the Book Fairs we grew up with.

We're not kids anymore. The magic can't be reproduced. But what we can do is carry the shape of it forward with the devotion of grown book nerds and creatives. I already do that with literary events, bookstore crawls, book clubs, book launch parties, festivals, and following other story-minded people on social media.

But there’s still something about the Book Fair specifically that functions like a recollective white whale—a symbol we keep circling, knowing it was never just about the books, but about the shimmer of possibility in that moment of childhood.

That longing and reverence is exactly what I tried to capture in this field guide to the Anatomy of a Proper Book Fair Haul.

The Respectable Lead

Required for teacher optics. Always a Very Serious Book™ stacked on top so the teacher thinks we’re young scholars with worthwhile opinions and perspectives on the world. Something with "Award Winner" stamped on the cover in gold foil. Did we ever actually read that book? Unlikely. But it was there, it looked earnest, and it bought us credibility.

The Weirdly Educational Nonfiction

The gateway to niche obsessions. Cryptids, dinosaurs, gemstones, Ancient Egypt, etc. For me, it was yet another Salem witch trials paperback, which technically counted as history. Nowadays, it’s still the newest paperback on the Salem witch trials. These interests never die: they become a core part of our personalities, and fodder for wistful social media posts.

The Cotton Candy Read

Goosebumps. The Baby-Sitters Club. Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, with those illustrations that still haunt our dreams. A glossy paperback that would be devoured under the covers with a flashlight by 11 p.m. The adult equivalent is any book read in a day, the kind that makes us forget to eat lunch because we’re too absorbed in the story.

The Social Currency Pick

The book we weren’t even sure we wanted, but had to buy so we could talk about it at recess. Usually whatever series was having its moment: Animorphs, Choose Your Own Adventure, or later, Twilight. Today's parallel is the buzzy book club novel we pretend to have strong thoughts about after reading only three chapters and skimming the Goodreads reviews.

Glitter

Officially "school supplies," but looking back, these items weren't fooling anyone. They were pure hits of serotonin disguised as practical purchases. Shimmery gel pens that came in a plastic case, sparkle pencils that left their mark literally everywhere, neon highlighters in shades that aren’t found in the natural world—anything that wrote beautifully for two weeks and then lived forever in a pencil case graveyard.

The Pouch That Contained Multitudes

There was always a robust selection: pouches in tie dye, shaped like a dolphin or owl, or featuring a motivational slogan in Comic Sans font. A vessel for Lisa Frank stickers, folded notes passed in class, broken-off pencil tips, and a beloved Tamagotchi (may it rest in peace). Now, pencil pouches sit on coffee shop tables next to our laptops, and canvas tote bags hang off our chairs while we work—still serving the same emotional function, but with more refined art.

The Accessory We Swore We Needed

Pizza-shaped erasers that never erased anything. A stress ball that popped immediately after it was thrown at a sibling. Those weird stretchy hands that picked up every piece of lint in existence. These were truly necessary for deep thinking and focus, so it seems silly that adults called them "money wasters."

The Posters

*NSYNC, Jonathan Taylor Thomas, horses running majestically in slow motion. Parents often vetoed this category, so we admired that one friend’s walls covered in these book store posters, swearing one day we too would be allowed to pin up the object of our heart’s desire over our beds.

The Wild Card

That inexplicable purchase that somehow became much larger in life than the impulse buy suggested. A bookmark featuring a wolf howling at the moon. A knock-knock joke book. A "learn to juggle" kit. Or maybe those temporary tattoos that never quite looked right, but felt incredibly sophisticated at the time.

The Heart Book

The one we hugged to our chest on the way out—the type of book we can still find today. The novel or book of essays or narrative nonfiction that cracks open our soul, mirrors our mind, makes us feel seen in the sliver-sized ways we'd always hoped for. These books were there at the Book Fair, and they're all over bookshelves now.

When I look at my grown-up hauls—the tote bag full of serious books and readable paperbacks, the cutesy sticker sheets and on-point stationary, the single nonfiction fascination that has followed me since age ten—I realize the Book Fair never really ended. The details shifted, and the budget got bigger, but our hearts remained the same size.

As kids, the Book Fair was about possibility: a new story, a new pencil set, a new interest to discover. As adults, it’s different. We know what we’ll actually read, which pens we’ll use, which posters we’re finally allowed to hang. But the thrill is the same: that moment of holding something in our hands and thinking, “this could change everything for me.” And with stories, they often do.

Maybe those adult Book Fairs are meant to miss the mark a little. What they really do is softly whisper to us that we are adults, and we cannot go back. But we can still give ourselves permission to build our own book hauls any time, at any bookstore, and let them remind us why we became readers, writers, storytellers, and artists in the first place.

What’s in your dream Book Fair haul? What’s a Book Fair item from years past that still sticks in your mind? And what’s the one Book Fair item that got away? For me, it was the Goosebumps boxed set, because I already owned each individual book, and according to my parents, it didn’t make sense to buy them again, even if the holographic print that only came in the box set was the coolest thing I’d ever seen in my entire life.

Glimmers to share

✨Once in a Millennial by Kate Kennedy

Kate Kennedy is the reigning archivist of millennial nostalgia, and this book reads like sitting on the floor of your middle school bedroom, gossiping with the version of yourself who still believes in the power of a perfectly crafted AIM away message. It’s sharp, hilarious, and occasionally devastating in its accuracy.

✨Annie’s Blue Ribbon General Store

If the Book Fair table of pencil pouches and punny stationary somehow sprouted into an entire shop, it would look like Annie’s in Brooklyn. I love this place, not only for their adorable stock, but for their community-forward spirit that makes it a neighborhood institution.

✨Morning Glory Breakfast Cake from Smitten Kitchen

This cake is fall coziness in a pan and the grown-up equivalent of elementary school bake sale brownies.