Oh. My. Gosh.
I honestly did not mean to join a book club. Like, one minute I’m ordering an overpriced matcha latte from a café in Williamsburg (because apparently, oat milk is non-negotiable in Brooklyn), and the next, I’m knee-deep in conversations about narrative tension and post-modernist themes while trying to figure out how to hold a paperback and a croissant at the same time. Spoiler alert: I failed. But I also… kinda loved it?
Let me back up.
A Latte, a Leaflet, and a Literary Crisis
So there I was, doing something very Rachel: wandering around Brooklyn trying to “be inspired” after my Monday meeting got canceled. (Honestly, I was mostly following that adorable French bulldog I saw on Bedford, but that's beside the point.) I ducked into a café called Fern & Folly—very “Brooklyn,” very planty, very vintage lamps that don’t actually give off light.
When I went to pick up my drink, there was this super cute little flyer sticking out of the community board. It said:
“Brooklyn Book Coven: A gathering of minds, once a week, no pressure, just pages.”
I mean… a book coven? How could I not be intrigued? I thought maybe it was some cool theme party where they drink wine and wear black. I didn’t realize it was….a real book club.
The Accidental RSVP
So I texted the number on the flyer (you know, just to see when the “coven” meets. For research.) and got a very chill reply from someone named Theo, who said, “We meet Wednesdays in my brownstone. Bring wine, maybe thoughts on Baldwin?”
Now I thought Theo was short for Theodora, and obviously, this was just going to be a girls’ thing. Very bookish, very cardigan-y. I showed up with a bottle of rosé, some baby carrots (because I panicked at Trader Joe's and couldn’t commit to cheese), and zero knowledge of James Baldwin.
Also? Theo is not Theodora. Theo is Theodoré. A guy. A tall, bookish, brooding, brownstone-owning man in a Henley. If you understand how I feel about Henleys — you know I was in trouble.
The Book, The Banter, The Beige Sofa
We discussed Giovanni’s Room (which I SPEED re-read in three hours flat after someone graciously caught me up). Everyone had opinions. Margot thinks Baldwin writes men like poetry. Jasper quoted him like, from memory. I said, “I just think Giovanni deserved nicer lighting in his apartment.” They were surprisingly into that?
And Theo—he looked at me like I had just cracked open the meaning of the universe. Or maybe he was just shocked I used the word “lighting” in a literary discussion.
Anyway, after the meeting, while everyone else shimmered off into the night (probably to their artisanal sourdough starter warmers or something), Theo asked me if I wanted to hang out a bit longer.
I mean… I wasn’t going to say no. I had already finished the rosé.
An Actual Grown-Up Date (with Books!)
So now it’s been four Wednesdays. Three more book club meetings. Two very intellectual make-out sessions. And one brunch in Park Slope where we ran into his ex — a very tiny woman named Zadie who rollerblades and teaches a class on “Post-Industrial Feminist Memoir.” She said I had “radiant Saturn energy.” I said thank you.
Honestly? I think I like dating someone who thinks talking about books is romantic. And it’s kind of nice being the least serious person in the room. The other night I caught myself Googling “modernist literary movements” at 1AM. Who even am I?
What I’ve Learned (Besides Plot Structure)
Here are a few things I’m now surprisingly into:
- Reading a book because I want to and not just because it's sitting pretty on my shelf.
- Talking about characters like they’re your exes.
- Theo’s voice when he reads aloud (seriously, I melt).
- Sweaters that smell like bookstore corners.
- Accepting that maybe, just maybe, I don’t always need to be the loudest one with the shiniest bag to be noticed.
In Conclusion: Am I a Book Girl Now?
I don’t know if I’m officially in my book era, or if this is just a very elaborate way of dating someone who owns three different kinds of throw pillows. But what I do know is:
Sometimes the best stories are the ones you don’t read — they happen to you on a beige sofa in Brooklyn, with a man whose name you thought was Theodora.
See you next Wednesday, book club. 💋
Love,
Rachel
📚✨🗽
