Read-In Lean-Ins
As a lifelong book addict, reading currently seems to occupy cultural space both as a zeitgeist-y moment—“book camps” geared towards moms, Dua Lipa’s fantastic author interviews and Kaia Gerber’s robust book club—and a Hail Mary pass. Shy and out of practice, we’re all still longing for human connection, but it’s hard to leave the house to perform at our best among strangers. Nonsmokers, we need a prop that can function as a security blanket and a prop to spark engagement. Perhaps the worst aspect of smartphones is how little (zero) they reveal about a person. As 90s romcoms have taught us, to find meaningful relationships, enter through the book shop. Fly your paperback flag high.
On a recent Wednesday evening, I made my way to Late Sunday Afternoon, an independently owned boutique in Venice that sells whimsical, handmade items and a well-chosen selection of children’s books shelved in a cozy, pillow-filled corner. Closed to customers, the space served as an event space for a Reading Speakeasy, a three-hour event hosted by NYC in LA.
New to me (thanks, Jenn!), NYC in LA brings transplants together and imports good ideas from the East Coast. Reading Rhythms, an international organization most active in the Five Boroughs, seems to have started the trend: collect book lovers in a bar or cafe (or store), invite them to read silently, break for chatting—ideally about what people are reading—and watch the sparks fly.
One of the founders of NYC in LA, Danial Zahler, hosted the $15 Venice event. When I arrived, I was invited to grab food and drink from the generous spread. Pizza and wine or seltzer in hand, about 20 people milled around and chatted. The vibe was friendly, relaxed, and refreshingly giggly. After all, how intimidating could folks choosing to hang out on a weeknight and read be?
I touted the store copy of Dragons Love Tacos to Deanna, the store employee on staff and mom of a first grader, and recommended my favorite podcast to a short story writer. Marianne, a bicoastal published author, artist, and marketing expert, and I met up the next week. When I asked her why the event had appealed to her, since she’d driven in from the San Gabriels, Marianne said, “It’s not about finding time to read since I always do. I was intrigued by the higher odds of meeting like-minded people who’d skip the small talk and get to the more meaningful stuff faster.” She laughed. “We think we’re talking about books, but we’re talking about ourselves.” She paused. “Our most real selves.” We agreed it’s hard enough to focus on reading to muscle through something we dislike in the hope of impressing others. “We couldn’t fake-talk about a book compellingly enough to impress anyway.”
The Speakeasy’s gender makeup was 60-40 women to men, not bad odds considering that publishing data shows that middle-aged women comprise the highest percentage of readers. Men do seem to be reading less fiction than previously (that evening’s male tally was about half fiction, half nonfiction titles, all of which, like the books women were reading, I added to my Libby queue). Although there didn't seem to be any romantic connections made, many of the people I spoke to were single, and, partnered or not, we agreed it was good to interact in a co-ed space. “Like college,” someone said.
Most of our daily interactions and to-do lists rely on apps, and that famously includes meeting potential friends and romantic partners. People of all ages are rejecting or at least vastly modifying their smartphone usage and finding ways to meet-cute IRL.
After thirty minutes of mingling, we arranged ourselves as comfortably as possible amidst the pillows and chairs provided, and got down to the business of reading. Daniel told us the agenda: he’d keep time while we all silently read, then we’d break to chat, followed by another timed reading section. The room instantly quieted down comfortably; I could sense the sound of pages turning. Most people, I noticed, brought paper books as I had (my library copy of the novel Slanting Towards the Sea by Croatian debut author Lidje Hilje). There was a spattering of e-readers as well.
When we broke after the first silent read, we decided to go around and tell people what we were reading with a short description. “Focus is contagious,” said a man who was enjoying Wagner by the actor Simon Callow. We warned a woman who’d just started Matt Haig’s The Midnight Library that she might be up all night finishing it. A visiting Englishman held up Tokarczuk’s Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead and said he appreciated the venue as a tourist. “Being amongst you all fulfills my evergreen fantasy of knowing what people are reading and what they think of it.”
By the end, I felt like everyone was a friend. The revelations of book titles and quick descriptors as revealers of character—our best traits—reminded me of reading a post on Substack that encouraged online dating photos to include one’s recent grocery haul, thermostat setting, pet, and bookshelves. We are all so lovely, witty, kind, and brimming with meaning. We can even be judged well by a (book) cover. But the real story is inside.
Stay tuned for a future Reading Speakeasy partnership between NYC in LA and Bahala in Santa Monica.