Recently, I asked an online community for a book recommendation and got a reply with a link to a generic Goodreads list. It was a bittersweet experience.

On the one hand, someone was kind enough to look something up for me, which I certainly appreciate. But on the other hand, there was nothing inherently human about their response. For all I knew, the reply could have come from a chatbot that didn’t intend any kindness whatsoever.

For the past couple of years, I’ve been thinking about the value of personal recommendations when it comes to deepening connections between friends. Baked into these ideas for what to read, watch, play and eat are implicit messages about who we are as people and how we relate to the person who asked for advice.

If you were to query your best friend on what book you should read next, they won’t just name any old title that happened to cross their shelf (or something an advertiser paid them to shove down everyone’s throats). They’d base what they say on what they know you love and want, blended with whatever affected them enough to keep in their mind.

What you get from that entire exchange is a new book to check out; the tacit message of, “I see you, friend, and I know you see me;” and someone you could potentially have a good conversation with once you’ve finished reading.

This is what making book buddies and finding community through reading means to me. Never mind the algorithms and listicles and five-star titles on gamified websites. When I love a book and I reckon you’ll love it too, there’s a good chance I’ll tell you about as “humanly” as I can.

And I hope you’d do the same for me.