Existential books are trending, and if you ask a Gen Z reader why, you could gEt a shrug, a smirk, or perhaps a Camus quote written in the margin of their notebook. But beneath the memes, the TikTok clips, and the ironic “life has no meaning” jokes, something is going on—a quiet, sincere search for meaning in a world that can feel turned upside down.
Imagine a college dorm room, late one night. A bunch of friends huddle cross-legged on the floor, half-saying it’s funny, half-saying it’s true, throwing around questions such as, “Does anything matter?” and “What am I supposed to do with my life?” These aren’t simply theoretical arguments—they’re the soundtrack to Gen Z coming of age.
For this generation, uncertainty is not a periodic guest; it’s a faithful friend. They’ve seen the world turn in directions their parents could never have dreamed—pandemics, climate catastrophes, political upheavals, and the constant straitjacket of social media. The future, which was once a promise, now seems like an open question. It’s little surprise, then, that books which look uncertainty in the eye—books which acknowledge that life can be absurd, bewildering, and occasionally even meaningless—seem like genuine friends.
Gen Zers have been labeled the “most connected” generation, but most will tell you they’ve never felt more isolated. Social media puts the world at their fingertips, but it puts anxiety, comparison, and an odd sense of removal there too. Amidst all this digital spin, existential literature brings something precious: authenticity. These stories and essays don’t try to suggest everything is okay. They don’t deliver easy solutions. Rather, they tell you, “It’s all right to be lost. It’s all right to question. Let’s solve it together.”
Ask a teenager why they adore existentialism, and they may respond with the liberty it provides. In a society where institutions and norms appear tenuous, existentialism returns the power—and the onus—to you. You choose what’s important. You become the author of your narrative. That’s scary and thrilling, and Gen Z is ready for it. They’re not waiting for someone to write them a script; they’re creating their meaning, one decision at a time.
And then there is the humor. If you’ve ever watched a Gen Z meme regarding “doomer” culture or existential terror, then you know that humor is part of the survival process. These are not dark jokes for darkness’s sake; these are jokes where you can say, “I recognize the absurdity, and I’m still breathing.” There is security in realizing you aren’t alone in this way. There is solidarity in the common struggle.
Existential literature doesn’t promise happy endings or perfect answers. What it does promise is honesty. It gives voice to the quiet doubts and big questions that so many young people carry. It says, “You’re not alone in feeling this way.” For Gen Z, that’s not just comforting—it’s empowering. It means their questions matter. Their search for meaning is valid. And even in a world that is, at times, so indifferent, they can discover meaning, connection, and perhaps even a smidgen of hope.
Something else is going on here, as well: the erosion of traditional sources of meaning. Religion, which used to be a bedrock for so many, has less sway over Gen Z than it had before. Surveys report that a considerable percentage of Gen Z is religiously unaffiliated. This doesn’t equate to a loss of spiritual curiosity or a desire for meaning—it just means they’re finding it elsewhere.
Existential works fill in that space by promoting readers to make their meaning instead of taking one delivered to them via tradition. This change from external to internal search aligns perfectly with Gen Z’s individuality and self-expression values.
The digital era also influences the way Gen Z engages with existential concepts. The internet is a huge, loud space filled with information, opinions, and distractions. It can be overwhelming, even debilitating. But it also provides a broad variety of philosophies and viewpoints that earlier generations may never have had access to so conveniently. You can view a video essay on Sartre, listen to a podcast on Kierkegaard, or browse a subreddit for Camus—all at your fingertips. Such ease of access makes existential literature less like old books collecting dust and more like living conversations speaking directly to their lives.
Concurrently, the internet increases alienation. The need to present a flawless online image can turn authenticity into a scarce resource. The themes of living in truth despite its difficulty found in existential literature resonate profoundly. It reminds young readers that it’s alright to deviate from perfection, to suffer, and to doubt. It reminds them to own their freedom and choice, even if the world appears senseless or uncaring.
Another reason existential literature appeals to Gen Z is that it affirms existential anxiety, not as something to be dreaded or shunned, but as a driver of growth. Anxiety and uncertainty are frequently viewed negatively, but existentialism recontextualizes them as inevitable components of human existence that can give rise to greater self-understanding and authentic decisions. For a generation struggling with mental health issues on an unprecedented level, this attitude provides a fresh approach to dealing with and making sense of their emotions. It’s not about getting rid of anxiety, but how to coexist with it and even utilize it as a compass.
Additionally, existentialism’s focus on individual responsibility resonates with Gen Z’s activist mentality. Today’s youth are highly invested in social justice, environmentalism, and politics. Existential literature’s message—that we create our own reality and are accountable for our choices and their outcomes—resonates with them. It makes them feel strong enough to take action and not simply respond, and to discover meaning through commitment and action.
In a world where so many feel powerless, existential literature is an unexpected wellspring of strength. It celebrates the randomness and senselessness of existence but reminds us that despite it all, we remain free to choose how we react. This notion—that even under the threat of uncertainty, we can make meaning and live honestly—is a valuable message for a generation facing unheralded challenges.
Why, then, are young people so drawn to existential literature? Because it speaks to their truth. It greets them in their uncertainty, their fear, their humor, and their aspirations. It provides no easy solutions, but it provides something better: permission to ask the tough questions, to feel fully, and to live a life that matters on their own terms. In a world that too often seems indifferent or overbearing, existential literature is not only relevant—it’s necessary. It’s a companion on the
