After a seven-year hiatus, book fans flocked to the Jacob J. Javits Center in New York City to celebrate BookCon 2026 this past weekend. The convention, which disappeared after 2019, was, back in the day, a place for top authors, publishers, influencers, and book lovers to come together to see what was new and next in the space. But what was supposed to be a celebration and a big return for the convention turned into days of chaos.
Some attendee frustrations were valid. There were long lines to enter the venue. The reservation system for panels and signings allowed for a very small of people to get to sign up for their choices, although, standby lines allowed those who didn’t reserve to still jump in on chances. And in the convention’s first day, there was severe lack of food options, meaning many went hungry or had to leave the convention early in order to grab something to eat.
But clearly, these were easy fixes as BookCon organizers quickly made changes that made these issues almost disappear on day two, which I attended. What was a constant problem, however, was the fight for ARCs (Advance Readers Copies) throughout the show’s two days.
For those who are new-ish to the book world, ARCs have long been a standing tradition in the space and are exactly what they sound like: advance review copies sent to those that publishers would like to review the book. While they have been reserved for traditional media in the past, as the influencer space has grown and become more important to publishers, so has the ARCs importance in the fandom. Some of ARCs have even been publicly numbered, not only allowing publishers to track them down if they got into the wrong hands, but also show what a rare and hot commodity they have become. And for some titles, the competition for these ARCs has gotten fierce.
As I was walking around the show floor, I heard from multiple people working booths that they were physically hurt from the mobs of people who were running for ARCs at different times of the day. One Threads user wrote, “There was a queued line then suddenly everyone started running and mobbing the staff, grabbing tickets out of their hands, and pushing past ADA attendees who literally couldn’t enter the mob to get a ticket.”
Another user wrote, “There was no way to get a video because I was literally in the middle of a moshpit, but yes. Pushing, pulling, almost punching between people, employees being yelled at and mobbed. it was BAD.”
One book, which had only very minimal copies available at the convention and is still not available to press, industry folks, or influencers was already on sale on Mercari for $650 less than a day after a convention attendee received it. There is some hot debate as to whether those who receive ARCs—whether through their connections or conventions—should be able to re-sell them. While they do have a “not for sale” notice in front of them, there is nothing illegal about selling them on a secondary site. However, paying and selling it for more than 20 times more than the book will sell for when it’s available in just a few months is definitely ethically questionable. Some publishers, like Kensington Books, have been tracking down re-sellers.
According to Publishers Weekly, BookCon 2026 had 25,000 attendees.However, an ARC drop can sometimes only include 100 books or less. The fact of the matter is that: 1) Publishing is a business. People need to buy books for authors to be able to write books. ARCs are free books given out for publicity and they cost money to make. Expecting everyone to get a book at a convention that big is unrealistic. 2) None of this is worth a book.
I didn’t know what to expect walking into the convention on day two after seeing all the chaos of day one online, but it was certainly a lot calmer. Still, a young woman sat next to me at a booth in tears, having been completely overwhelmed by a crowd while trying to grab an ARC. I saw one booth worker post a photo of her bruises.
As part of my job here at Cosmo, I can truly get any book I want, so I understand the privilege of not having to wait in these lines and deal with the chaos. But I remember being a fan and going to these conventions, too. The only time I remember people running for an ARC was Leigh Bardugo’s Ninth House during Book Expo America in 2019. But since it was a trade show event and not open to the public, it was a lot calmer and most people just returned the next day or emailed a publicist if they didn’t get one. And, even at BookCon that year, which had a more spread out layout (BookCon this year was only in a quarter of the space), there was more breathing room, which allowed for lines to form easily.
It seems, however, that as the book scene has grown bigger, a lot of the unspoken rules that used to exist were thrown out the window. This has grown to a much larger problem in fandom where it has felt that over the last few years—especially after the COVID-19 pandemic—these small spaces have now been overrun by people who have high expectations of what they “deserve” just for being fans.
Let’s get one thing very clear: ARCs are not a right. They do not even have to exist. And yet, the book community has made marketing tools to help promote a future title into trophies worth hurting people.
In talking with a lot of publishing folks, it seems like some changes will be made next year to help combat this problem. Fans will likely either have to sign up ahead of time or get on lines first thing in the morning for wristbands, amongst other options. But the real change has to come from the fans. These books are certainly not worth any of what went down this weekend, and we’ve truly have lost the plot if this is the way the book community is turning to.
