Cheese, wine, joie de vivre – and books. There’s a lot to love about France, and one of my favourite aspects is the presence of reading in everyday life. For centuries, literature has been a core part of French culture, and you can still see people reading everywhere: in parks, cafés, on terraces, and on the metro — sometimes even while walking.
They are rarely reading on tablets or phones. The physical book continues to dominate. According to figures from the French publishing sector, 420 million books are sold each year.
Even though the average number of books read per person has declined — from 22 in 2023 to 18 in 2025 — reading remains a visible, shared habit. In the latest national survey, 45 per cent of respondents report reading daily, while 63 per cent say they have read at least five books in the past year.
Numbers alone do not explain this visibility. Each year, roughly 75,000 new titles are released, but scale matters less than circulation — how books move through the country and remain accessible in daily life.
Paris alone counts around 400 bookshops, the majority of them independent. Across France, there are more than 3,000 independent bookshops, giving the country one of the highest per-capita densities worldwide. Nearly half of all books sold in France are bought through one of them – in physical stores or at librariesindependantes.com, a shared online platform offering 20 million titles from 1,200 local stores.
This ecosystem didn’t emerge by accident. For decades, French authorities have protected independent bookshops — financially and structurally. Since 1981, the Loi Lang has ensured fixed prices on new books, meaning a novel costs the same whether you buy it from a small neighbourhood shop or a large chain. Publishers set the price, which is printed on the back of the book. Books also benefit from a reduced VAT rate of 5.5 per cent, another quiet but clear signal of their cultural value.
In France, reading is a matter of tradition and shared reference. It is not treated as niche or nostalgic, nor confined to private space. It belongs in public. Reading is understood as natural, worthwhile, and intellectually grounding — a legitimate way to inhabit time.
For me, it’s also at the heart of what makes Paris feel like Paris. A city where it’s normal to sit alone with a book, where it’s a cherished ritual to prioritize attention and calm. I hope this remains true for a long time to come — and that reading continues to have a visible place here, as a way of being.
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