At first, this silent book club was loud.
On a recent Saturday, two dozen people gathered in the back of Cream & Amber, a cafe and bookstore in Hopkins, chatting and laughing with the people sitting beside them. Then, 10 minutes in, the room fell quiet, and people opened their books.
Pristine hardcovers and dog-eared softcovers and a single e-reader, with different covers and authors and genres.
Unlike most book clubs, the Silent Book Club’s Minneapolis chapter doesn’t require folks to read a single title. The setup is simpler: Bring whatever book you happen to be reading. Quietly read that book for 45 minutes. Then share a bit about the book with others.
The clubs attract introverts, bookworms and rebels who resist the idea of spending precious reading time on a book someone else selected.
“I hated assigned reading in school,” said Kortney Webster, a member of this club since it started in 2019, shaking her head. “Whenever I would see book clubs, the books that they were reading, it was like, ‘I don’t want to read that.'”
So on this Saturday afternoon, Webster picked up where she’d left off in “The Ink Black Heart,” part of a detective series written by J.K. Rowling and published under the pseudonym Robert Galbraith. Across the table from her was Matt Streit, who launched the Minneapolis chapter of what has become a global phenomenon.
As people began reading, the hiss of the espresso machine in the other room suddenly audible, some folks fidgeted. One sipped a beer. Another kept glancing at the reader beside her.
But no one checked their phone.
A middle school language arts teacher, Streit had read a National Public Radio story about Silent Book Club and was struck by the concept. For years, he’d tried — unsuccessfully — to nab an invitation to his friends’ book clubs. This club, he said, “really is for everyone.”
At first, eight people showed up at the now-defunct Birchwood Cafe in Minneapolis. Now, once a month, dozens of newbies and regulars pack coffee shops and breweries across the Twin Cities. A big, quiet community room is a plus. But during a recent meet-up at Arbeiter Brewing Co., they read quietly while a dance party played out alongside them.
Streit has never had to advertise, never had to hit up his friends. “I’ve never had to worry about people showing up.”
Back in 2012, the first Silent Book Club “started as a lark,” founder Guinevere de la Mare said by phone. A toddler was stealing much of her time, then, so she and friend Laura Gluhanich met up at a San Francisco wine bar with a book and a goal: finish one chapter. Friends and hashtags helped spread the word.
“We wanted to fill every bar and cafe with people reading books,” she said. “Instead of looking around and seeing everyone staring at their phones, we wanted to replace that with people reading.”
In 2017, the club got write-ups in Poets & Writers magazine and the website LitHub, “the perfect media outlets for our target audience,” de la Mare said. Other publications followed. Then, last year, viral TikTok and Instagram reels added to the buzz. As of last week, there were 962 chapters, representing 47 countries and all 50 states, including eight in Minnesota.
Recent additions: West Java, Indonesia, Medford, Ore., and Abu Dhabi.
The trend has spawned ticketed reading parties, too. Since COVID-19 remade how we relate to one another in public spaces, these clubs and parties have provided “a low-barrier, low-pressure way to get out and socialize in this structured, safe environment,” de la Mare said. “If you wanted to go and sit in the corner and read your book, nobody would bother you. If you wanted to go and meet other people and get book recommendations, great.
“Either way, it’s a roomful of friendly people who want to talk to you about books.”
A half-hour into the silence at Cream & Amber, the room hummed with energy.
It was Carolyn Charles’ first meet-up, and she had worried that “it might be weird.” Instead, she found it comfortable. “It was just like being home, in a way, in my own quiet space in my head,” she said later. “And I think everyone else was in their own quiet space in their head.
“And yet — together.”
With a gentle clearing of his throat, Streit called out the session’s end, asking people to share in a big circle what they’d been reading.
Among the titles: “The Left Hand of Darkness,” a science fiction masterpiece by Ursula K. Le Guin. “Entangled Life,” a nonfiction book about fungi. “The Fraud,” Zadie Smith’s latest novel.
Several people noted the reasons why reading at home is hard: “When I read at night, I tend to fall asleep,” one woman said. At home, “I get distracted by my phone…” another lamented. “Here, I feel pressured to keep reading.”
One reader wondered aloud about an author, and another had the answer.
“When you have a question about a book, someone in the room knows,” Streit said. He added that line to his list of mottos about Silent Book Club. Among them: “This is the book club that gets you ready for other book clubs.” “A book club without the guilt.”
But the 48-year-old bristles at the well-worn idea that this is “a book club for introverts.”
“We treat introverts like they’re shy weirdos,” he said. But Streit likes a good party as much as he likes a good book. This book club, too, is a balance: “We do a little conversation, a little reading, a little conversation.”
“It’s no pressure,” he continued. “But we’re not reading by ourselves. We want community.”
