Priced Out: Tariffs Threaten to Lock Me, a Queer Artist, Out of Canadian Bookstores
There’s a unique magic to bookstores. As a queer artist and storyteller here in Canada, they aren't just shops to me; they're sanctuaries. They’re places where I find inspiration stacked on shelves, where I stumble upon stories that reflect my own life or open my eyes to others, and where I sometimes find a quiet sense of community among the aisles. But lately, that magic feels threatened, that sanctuary door feels like it's closing. Book prices are climbing, and now, the looming threat of steep tariffs on books imported from the US feels like it could put these vital spaces, and the books within them, completely out of reach for me and many others.
More Than Just Stores: The Bookstore Lifeline
Walking into an independent bookstore is an experience. It's the smell of paper, the possibility of discovery, the quiet hum of people searching for connection through words. For me, it’s where I find the narratives that fuel my own work – stories by other queer authors, diverse voices, challenging perspectives I might never find algorithmically suggested online. It's the kind of deep dive into history or mythology that might spark an idea for something like The Hollow Vale, my new book exploring the fall of Roman Britain, or contribute to the broader world-building of the Tharion Cycle. It's where I can pick up a book, feel its weight, read the first page, and know if it’s something I need. It’s also often a space where LGBTQ+ literature is visibly celebrated, offering a sense of belonging that isn't always easy to find elsewhere. Losing affordable access to these spaces isn't just an inconvenience; it feels like losing a lifeline.
The Rising Walls: Costs and Tariffs
Even before this latest crisis, book prices felt like they were steadily creeping up. Inflation, supply chain issues, rising paper costs – whatever the reasons, that $25 paperback started nudging towards $30, then $35, making each purchase a more calculated decision. But the news hitting us now in Canada feels like a potential knockout blow. There’s talk – serious talk, with lobbying efforts underway – of Canada imposing retaliatory tariffs, possibly as high as 25%, on goods imported from the United States, and books are on that list.
Suddenly, the slow creep in prices could become a giant leap. Booksellers are warning that a 25% tariff could add $5, $10, even $15 to the cost of a single book. They operate on thin margins already; they can’t just absorb that cost. It will inevitably be passed on to readers like me. And it's complex – because our book world is so integrated with the US, even books by Canadian authors, if printed or warehoused south of the border (which many are), could be hit by these tariffs when they cross back into Canada. It feels like we’re about to shoot ourselves in the foot, culturally speaking.
Why This Hits Differently as a Queer Artist
This isn't just about budget constraints; it feels personal and deeply concerning for my identity and my work. As a queer person, access to stories that reflect our lives is crucial. It's validation, it's history, it's understanding. Bookstores are often the primary places where these stories are curated and made accessible. When prices skyrocket, who gets priced out first? Often, it’s members of marginalized communities who may already face economic instability.
Furthermore, my art depends on inspiration, on engaging with the work of others, on understanding the cultural conversation. Finishing projects like The Hollow Vale, which draws deeply on the atmosphere and history of Roman Britain's decline, or continuing the broader narrative of the Tharion Cycle, requires constant imaginative fuel. Locking me out of bookstores, or making the books inside prohibitively expensive, directly impacts my ability to do the research, find unexpected connections, and simply stay inspired. It feels like another barrier being erected, another way that queer voices and perspectives risk being sidelined because the cost of entry – literally the price of a book – becomes too high. It’s the fear of being doubly excluded: once by mainstream narratives, and again by economic barriers.
The Cultural Cost of Expensive Books
The ripple effects are terrifying. If I can't afford to buy books, I can't support other authors, especially the independent and often queer writers whose work lines the shelves of my favourite local bookstore. If bookstores struggle or close because of these tariffs, we lose more than just retail spaces; we lose community hubs, centres for discovery, and champions of diverse literature. Libraries are also worried about their purchasing power shrinking, meaning fewer books available for everyone.
It raises a fundamental question: Is access to culture, to stories, to knowledge, becoming a luxury item? When trade disputes and tariffs start impacting something as essential as books, it feels like we're taxing ideas, penalizing curiosity, and building walls around our collective imagination.
A Plea for Accessible Stories
Right now, there’s a lot of uncertainty. Booksellers, publishers, and libraries are fighting to get books exempted from these potential tariffs. As a queer artist and storyteller, I can only add my voice to theirs. Books aren't just another commodity like appliances or car parts; they are fundamental to our culture, our education, and our understanding of each other.
Putting them behind a financial wall, especially one built by tariffs, harms readers, harms creators like me trying to bring worlds like those in The Hollow Vale and the Tharion Cycle to life, and harms the very fabric of our society. I need bookstores. I need access to diverse narratives. As a Canadian, as an artist, and as a queer person, I desperately hope that those in power recognize the immense cultural value of books and keep them accessible to everyone, regardless of trade politics. Our stories depend on it.
