The Amar Ekushey Book Fair, long regarded as the cultural and intellectual heartbeat of Bengali life, has this year experienced a noticeable and unsettling slowdown. On 14 March, the publishers’ body Prokashok Oikya reported that book sales at the fair dropped by nearly 70% compared to the previous year. The stalls were in place, neatly arranged, and the authors showed up as always. But the crowds, once the defining pulse of the fair, were noticeably thinner.

Some have pointed to Ramadan as a contributing factor. Yet, the broader concern runs deeper. The decline in reading habits has been visible for years. What we are witnessing now may not be a one-off dip driven by seasonal or economic conditions, but rather a reflection of a long-term shift in how people in Bangladesh engage with books.

A walk through the fairgrounds tells a quiet story. It became clear that while the scent of books lingered in the air, there was also a sense of disappointment on the faces of stall owners. Besides, the energy, the dense crowds and the spontaneous rush to stalls that once defined the fair, was missing. Readers were present, but subdued. And their purchasing behaviour revealed a more telling trend: a gradual distancing from traditional reading. Whether this signals a fading relationship with literature itself, or simply a shift towards digital forms of engagement, remains an open question.

Global reading data provides a sharper lens. According to World Population Review, an average person in the United States reads about 17 books per year, while in India the figure stands at 16. In Bangladesh, however, the average drops to just 2.75 books annually. The gap widens further when measured in time: Bangladeshi adults spend roughly 62 hours a year reading, compared to around 357 hours in the United States and 352 hours in India.

These numbers point to more than just a quantitative gap — they reflect how much time people are willing to invest in literature and knowledge. In comparison to its regional neighbour, Bangladesh lags significantly behind.

Which raises a critical question: are Bangladeshis truly drifting away from stories, ideas, and literature, or are they simply changing the medium through which they consume them?

In this context, a new medium gradually comes into focus: audiobooks.

Logos of leading Bangladeshi audiobook platforms – top row (left to right): ShunBoi, Shadhin Music, Kahinik; bottom row (left to right): Puthika, Kabbik, and Boighar.

Listening instead of reading: the rise of a new habit

In a city shaped by relentless traffic, fast-paced routines, and screen-dependent lives, sitting down with a physical book is increasingly becoming a luxury for many in Dhaka.

Marzia Zahan Momo, a student of Mass Communication and Journalism at the University of Dhaka, describes how that shift happened for her,
“Reading a book doesn’t always feel convenient. Audiobooks became the easiest alternative for me. I first started listening to Radio Mirchi’s Sunday Suspense on YouTube. Now, from helping me fall asleep at night to keeping me company in unbearable traffic, audiobooks are my constant companion.”

Her experience is not an isolated one. Among urban youth, this is gradually becoming the norm, where books are no longer just read but increasingly heard.

Md Tamim Ferdous Khan, a student of Criminology at the University of Dhaka, sees audiobooks as an extension rather than a replacement; at least for now.

He said, “In my view, audiobooks can be a companion to reading in today’s world. You can listen while working or commuting.”

A century in the making: the origins of audiobooks

It would be wrong to think of audiobooks as a sudden invention. Their roots stretch back nearly a century. In 1931, the United States launched the “Talking Book Programme” for visually impaired readers. For the first time, the goal was to deliver books through sound, at a time when visual media was not universally accessible. The following year, Helen Keller’s “Midstream” and Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven” were recorded experimentally — short stories and chapters allowing people to hear literature for the first time.

Early audiobooks were not just for entertainment. Their purpose was educational: portions of the Bible, the Declaration of Independence, Shakespeare’s plays, all recorded so that anyone, especially the visually impaired, could access knowledge. Gradually, technology evolved from cassette tapes to CDs, and eventually digital files. By the 1990s, the term “audiobook” had become an industry standard, establishing a recognised framework for authors, publishers, and listeners alike.

In the 2000s, the rise of the internet, digital downloads, and smart devices propelled audiobooks into the mainstream. Today, in the United States and other developed countries, a significant portion of adults have listened to at least one audiobook — proof of the medium’s broad acceptance. Audiobooks are no longer limited to a niche audience; they have become a legitimate and popular way to engage with literature.

Meanwhile, the audiobook journey in Bangladesh began slowly, yet its timing proved significant. Globally, digital audio content was rapidly gaining popularity, driven by the spread of smartphones and internet access. Bangladesh eventually felt the ripple, primarily in the post-Covid period. Long lockdowns, life confined at home, and a growing appetite for alternatives to screen-based entertainment together created a real entry point for audiobooks.

It was in this context that ShunBoi emerged as Bangladesh’s first audiobook platform. Niloy Nil, former assistant manager at Kabbik, recalls those early days: “ShunBoi was the first to start here, they’ve been in the market since 2021, especially around the Covid period.”

In other words, the institutional audiobook journey in Bangladesh began with ShunBoi, with other ventures gradually joining later.

Soon, multiple platforms appeared – Kabbik, Puthika, Kahinik – each carving out a space for different audiences.

According to Nil, “Kabbik moved aggressively in the market, user retention is still higher there.”

Other platforms such as Boighar, and Shadhin have also joined the scene. While the market remains small, a form of competition is emerging, and slowly an ecosystem is taking shape — one experimenting with new content, new audiences, and new business models.

Audiobook growth in Bangladesh is steady but uneven, largely shaped by awareness and exposure. The challenge isn’t a lack of content — there are plenty of books available — but rather a limited understanding of how to use this new medium. Many listeners only start exploring when they are introduced to its possibilities and guided on how to navigate platforms and subscriptions. So, it needs more awareness.

Nil said, “The spread of audiobooks is definitely increasing and will continue to… but it depends on how much the people on these platforms are educating the market.”

According to him, the problem is not a shortage of content, but a lack of understanding: “Many people see a product but don’t understand how to use it; if you are educated, then you purchase.”

Contrary to the idea that audiobooks might replace traditional reading, they function more as a parallel medium. While reading sparks imagination in a way audio alone cannot, audiobooks offer a practical solution for busy lives, letting people consume literature while commuting, cooking, or multitasking.

Nil directly rejected the notion that audiobooks will replace books. “Calling it a complete alternative would be contradictory… I would say it runs alongside.”

His reasoning was clear, “When you read, you create your own imagination… in an audiobook, that space for thought is reduced.”

In short, audiobooks are not a replacement for books; they are a parallel medium, offering a new way to engage with literature amid busy lives.

The audiobook market in Bangladesh is still small, but even within this limited scope, the emerging taste map is evident. Not all types of books are equally popular; certain genres repeatedly dominate — detective, horror, self-help, and in some cases, history-based or contemporary political content.

The audiobook market in Bangladesh is still relatively small, but the diversity of listener tastes is already visible. Not all genres attract equal attention. Certain types repeatedly emerge at the top — detective stories, horror, self-help, and in some cases, history-based or contemporary political content.

Explaining this trend, Nil observed, “In some cases, people’s interest is very high, like in motivational books, horror type or detective.” But this is not just observation — it reflects real user behaviour.

“Miracle Morning, 5AM Club, Dopamine Detox; a lot of people listen to these kinds of content,” he added.

In other words, the content that works best in audiobooks is immediately accessible, easy to follow, and directly relevant to daily life. Nil pointed out the business logic behind it as well: “What people are consuming, that’s what is being offered — it’s a business mindset.”

Personal preferences often align with broader market trends.

Farzana Nirjona, a presenter at Ekushey TV and voice artist, shared her own fondness for this type of content. According to her, detective stories in audiobook format create a unique appeal through voice, sound, and suspense; they deliver a dramatic, immersive experience that reading alone cannot fully replicate.

Yet these patterns are not fixed; they shift over time, especially with changing political contexts. Nil highlighted a significant change: “After the fall of the Awami League regime, people’s focus shifted entirely to politics… and then I see that interest is picking up again.”

After the 2024 political uprisings, much of the public’s attention shifted towards political discourse and this shift has left its mark on audiobook consumption as well. At the same time, it has created space for new kinds of content.

Nil revealed an incident, “Tinti Sena Obhutthan O Kichu Na Bola Kotha — we released this audiobook immediately after the uprising and people really listened to it.”

Here, when the word “uprising” became popular, it directly drew listeners’ interest. Similarly, global political literature finds renewed relevance — Animal Farm — that too attracted a strong audience. Actually, when the trend hits, the clicks follow.”

This trend demonstrates that audiobooks are not just a static literary medium; they can rapidly adapt to contemporary social and political conversations.

At the same time, another significant segment is emerging — religious content for older listeners. In Nil’s words, “These days, religious content is also being made for the elderly. Each audiobook platform targets different kinds of audiences.”

In other words, audiobook platforms are no longer limited to a single type of content. They are now consciously creating material for distinct audience segments — self-improvement or thrillers for younger listeners, and religious or spiritual books for older audiences.

Business model: youtube vs. subscription

In Bangladesh, the audiobook industry is largely split between two business models. One is YouTube-based, where content is free and revenue comes from advertisements and sponsorships. The other is an app-based subscription model, where users pay either for a specific book or for access over a set period.

Within the app-based model, subscription packages typically come in multiple durations — daily, monthly, semi-annual, and annual.

Payment options are designed to be flexible and accessible. Users can subscribe using credit or debit cards, mobile balances such as Robi, Grameenphone, or Banglalink, or mobile financial services including bKash, Nagad, Upay, and Rocket.

This structure makes subscribing easy for users while ensuring a viable economic model for premium content. Free content is usually offered in limited scope, giving new users a chance to explore the platform before committing to a subscription to access the full range of premium audiobooks.

One of the most pressing challenges in Bangladesh’s audiobook market today is quality.

“Many of the audiobook productions happening in Bangladesh are of very low standard,” said Farzana Nirjona.

The reason, she explained, is straightforwardly economic, “They look for voice artists at the lowest possible rates — editors at the lowest possible rates — and when you chase the cheapest, quality naturally suffers.”

“Quantity may be high, but the quality is low,” she added.

This issue runs deeper, according to writer and musician Sheikh Fahim Faisal. “The effort put into audiobooks on Dhaka’s platforms is minimal; the people creating them aren’t being fairly compensated or valued,” he observed.

He drew a comparison with Kolkata, noting, “The nature of audiobooks in Dhaka is different. In India, Bhutan, and Pakistan, the audiobook business is also thriving.”

“Without properly valuing the voice artists, audiobooks cannot truly improve. What’s needed is better institutionalisation and structure,” he added.

Who’s listening: urban hubs vs. the periphery

Behind the growing popularity of audiobooks are very practical reasons, with daily life and multitasking at the top of the list. “Why are people turning to audiobooks? Because they let you multitask,” Nil explained. “When you’re reading a physical book, you can’t do anything else at the same time. With an audiobook, even while walking, you can finish a book.”

This observation aligns closely with the realities of urban life. Dhaka’s notorious traffic jams, exhausting commutes, and limited free time are all reshaping reading habits. Books are no longer just a dedicated block of time; they are increasingly becoming part of the flow of life, consumed while walking, travelling, or unwinding at the end of a long day.

At a listening-focused mega contest organised by an audiobook platform, Nil recalled the prize distribution experience during working with Kabbik, “Within Dhaka, we sent nearly 60% of the gift, which means urban audiences are actively staying informed about these offerings.”

These insights reveal that audiobook adoption in Bangladesh remains largely urban-centric. Its reach is strongest among Dhaka-based middle-class listeners who are digitally capable. In other words, audiobooks are still a niche product, catering primarily to an urban, middle-class, digitally connected audience.

Potentiality vs reality

Behind all the excitement about the rise of audiobooks lies a complex, persistent challenge — copyright. In the digital age, piracy has become a constant companion; whether it’s music, movies, or books, nothing is immune. Audiobooks are no exception.

In Bangladesh, the slow growth of e-books is partly blamed on the uncontrolled spread of content online. Legally, a work cannot be published or distributed online until 60 years after the author’s death. As a result, even contemporary works often face barriers to legitimate digital access.

Nirjona highlighted another crucial point.

“It’s essential to reach more students, investment is needed, and quality matters,” she said.

Technology and platforms alone are not enough; producing content that meets standards requires funding, skill, and long-term planning.

Echoing this, Faisal raised another fundamental point, “Audiobooks have immense potential in Bangladesh, but the people involved — the voice artists, producers and the entire ecosystem must be properly valued.”

Without fair recognition and compensation for the particular work behind the scenes, the industry cannot sustain itself.

Taken together, one fact is clear: interest in reading in Bangladesh is declining. This is no longer just speculation; various contexts and statistics confirm it.

Yet the demand for stories has not diminished.

People still want to listen to stories — only the medium has shifted.

Some read books, others scroll on screens, some listen to podcasts, while others immerse themselves with headphones — different paths, but the same allure.

That transformed medium is the audiobook.

The question is no longer just about technology or platforms. It’s also about cultural alignment. Will this medium remain a temporary trend, or will it gradually cultivate a new reading culture, where both reading and listening share equal space? Only time will tell.