Why Dhaka’s book cafes fail to read the room

On a typical Dhaka afternoon, I found myself standing before a modest brown bookshelf wearing a thin coat of dust, inside the BruTown cafe. The cafe had never claimed to be a book cafe, yet a few titles were scattered along the walls as if to hint otherwise. 

However, any illusion of the popular cafe being a reading sanctuary dissolved rather quickly. Across the room, two families sat opposite each other, sizing up a potential bride and groom over cappuccinos. 

A toddler in another corner was determined to ensure every object within reach received a generous smear of her meal. A couple was waiting for me (rather impatiently) to move over so that they could use the bookshelf as a prop. And by now, everyone at the cafe knew that Maisha's ex still owed her money.

It was a familiar Dhaka cafe scene: warm, crowded, unbothered. But a reading nook it was not.

Still, the city is dense with cafes insisting they are made for readers. Over the past decade, "book cafes" have appeared everywhere, promising the romance of coffee and quiet pages. Yet, most inevitably become one of two things: a bustling cafe with a few decorative books in the corners, or a bookstore that once, briefly, served lattes.

Book cafes have existed in this city for a while and a half, but do they actually work? And if not, why?

Across the world, book cafes are quiet, curated spaces where readers settle into soft chairs with a novel for hours. The model seems simple enough: sell books, offer coffee, create ambience.

Dhaka's attempts, however, tell a different story.

Photo: Mehedi Hasan

Bengal Boi, for instance, began with the intention of being a book cafe, yet anyone who visited during its early days would recall seeing more photoshoots than page-turners. You were far more likely to find a girl draped in a shari or a man in a fresh panjabi posing in front of the shelves than someone lost in a book.

The cafe later moved to a larger space, and the cafe and bookshop were separated. The ambience remains energetic, the crowd steady, the food well-loved. But for reading? Still a challenge.

"It is always a full house. The ambience is great in the cafe," said Md Jakibul Islam, an executive at Bengal Boi. "People come with their friends and have a great time."

To understand why many of Dhaka's book cafes lose their grip, it helps to look at the bookstore owners who have survived long enough to recognise the pattern. Independent bookshops operate in a fragile ecosystem: they must curate carefully, know their readers well, and maintain a level of attention that large cultural houses or lifestyle cafes do not always prioritise.

He is right — the cafe is almost always alive with conversation. But that very success is also its obstacle. The number of people actually browsing books is noticeably smaller than the cafe crowd.

"You can read the donated books kept outside the store, but the new ones inside need to be purchased," Jakibul added. A fair policy, though it does not quite solve the deeper issue: Bengal Boi's cafe simply is not quiet enough for reading.

For many readers, noise is the deciding factor.

The fault in our book cafes

To understand why many of Dhaka's book cafes lose their grip, it helps to look at the bookstore owners who have survived long enough to recognise the pattern. Independent bookshops operate in a fragile ecosystem: they must curate carefully, know their readers well, and maintain a level of attention that large cultural houses or lifestyle cafes do not always prioritise.

Popular bookstore Bookworm, for instance, has built its reputation through years of meticulous sourcing, especially of English-language titles. Their team knows their readership intimately, and that expertise has shaped the store's success.

In contrast, many book cafes launch with enthusiasm for atmosphere — beautiful interiors, photo-friendly corners — but without the depth of book knowledge needed to sustain a reading-focused space.

This mismatch in priorities becomes visible over time.

"A cafe that draws crowds for its ambience naturally leans into what works: social gatherings, food and chatter. Books, unless curated and refreshed with care, fade into the background. A cafe can sell coffee without understanding publishing; a bookstore cannot thrive without understanding its books," explained Amina Rahman, owner of Bookworm.

The challenge remains that running a cafe and running a bookstore require two entirely different areas of expertise. When they are forced together without equal attention to both, one side inevitably becomes ornamental.

"Maintaining a bookstore requires the kind of focus and expertise that cannot be added on as décor. And maintaining a cafe requires skills that booksellers don't always possess or want to acquire," she added.

When the balance tips too far in either direction, the "book cafe" becomes either a cafe with a bookshelf or a bookstore with a coffee machine — neither of which truly serves readers.

Photo: Mehedi Hasan

The partnership that briefly worked

Bookworm's turning point came in 2017, when North End — already a favourite establishment for its coffee — invited them to set up a bookstore inside one of their branches.

"It wasn't a partnership," Amina explained. "We paid our own rent, they paid theirs. But they lent us their designer and their people. We designed the space together."

What followed was a rare success story.

North End had mastered coffee; Bookworm knows everything about books. Neither tried to do the other's job. The result was a space where customers genuinely browsed books, bought them, and then sat with their coffee in one of Dhaka's quieter cafe environments.

"When they put up a small sign saying Bookworm was coming, he told us people kept asking when we would open. The excitement was unbelievable," Amina recalled.

From opening day, the collaboration thrived. Readers wandered freely from coffee to books and back again. Bookworm began hosting book talks, launches and discussions — events that naturally fit into a space where both books and coffee felt equally at home.

Suddenly, Dhaka had an example of a book cafe that worked, not merely as an aesthetic but as a communal space for readers.

However, it was short-lived. When Covid-19 hit, the bookstore had to close its space in the North End.

A second chance

Years later, another invitation arrived — from the owner of Tudo, a restaurant and cafe in Banani. Many customers didn't even realise that Tudo's ground floor had a separate coffee counter; it was often assumed to be an extension of the restaurant upstairs.

When Bookworm visited the space, the search came to an end.

"They know the coffee. We know the books," Amina said. "The rent was manageable, the space easily accessible, and for us, that was enough."

This wasn't an attempt to reinvent the idea of a book cafe. It was simply a continuation of the model that already worked: keep each craft in the hands of its respective experts.

"The formula is to let us booksellers handle books, let Tudo — the coffee specialists — handle coffee, and let readers enjoy the combined space," said Ariz Hoque, social media manager of Bookworm.

What do readers think?

Protyasha Ghosh, a researcher who describes herself as an avid reader, points out that book collections need to match the interests of those inclined to sit and read.

"The Reading cafe started as a book cafe, but now it's only a bookstore," she said.

"Their collection wasn't versatile enough for someone to sit with a book from their shelves. They catered more towards children or collectors, and if I wanted to sit with a cup of coffee to read, I would usually have to bring my own book."

"However, in such cases, I prefer going to my nearest North End, since I would carry my own book anyway," she added.

This gap between what cafes claim to offer and what readers actually want appears repeatedly.

Shimin Mushsharat, a bookstagrammer, has visited several such spaces but remains unconvinced.

"I've been to both Bengal Boi and Tudo Bookworm, mostly to buy or browse," she said. "They have snacks and coffee, which is nice, but if I want to read, I go somewhere else. North End, for example."

"Tudo's prices are extremely high, and Bengal Boi is too crowded to read comfortably. I don't feel strongly about either of them as reading spaces," she concluded.

In short, the readers aren't refusing book cafes — they're refusing their lack of practicality.

While business strategies and industry partnerships matter, the heart of the issue is surprisingly simple: readers want quiet, comfort, good lighting, reasonable prices and a thoughtful selection.

"There are a lot of book cafes in Dhaka, but not enough readers are going there. As a community, we need to show up, or else every book cafe becomes just another bookstore," shared Athai Das Tinni, founder of Books and More with Athai.

She's right. But readers will only show up when the space respects the act of reading—not as decoration, not as branding, but with genuine purpose.

So, are they a gimmick?

Some are — absolutely. Many open with a wall of books meant mostly for photographs, or a handful of titles placed for ambience rather than engagement. Others are cafes through and through, with reading tacked on as an afterthought — encouraging readers to retreat to quieter spots with books of their own.

But the concept itself isn't the problem.

A book cafe works when it's designed for readers rather than for Instagram: when the shelves are thoughtfully curated, the noise kept at bay, the prices humane, and the owners understand that reading requires a certain kind of peace.

Dhaka doesn't yet have many places like that. But the rare few that honour the book, not as decor, but as purpose, prove the model can be more than a marketing trick. Readers aren't asking for perfection; only that the books mean something.