A few years ago, I arrived early for my middle school reunion at a bar, thinking it would be fun to sip a few vodka sodas and read The Idiot before socializing. Turns out, I was the idiot to not recognize how much I’d imbibe while distracted by Prince Myshkin’s tale.
Drinking and reading are not really a natural pairing. Just because you enjoy exercise and eating healthily, doesn’t mean you want a fitness studio where you eat salad as you run on the treadmill. At regular bars, only an occasional patron will read a book, oftentimes while waiting for a friend or date to arrive or while slowly savoring a single drink, lest they lose the mental faculties necessary to retain what they’re reading. And yet book bars, bars where you can read or purchase books while sipping wine or other alcoholic beverages, have become increasingly popular in the past few years. So it was with a certain amount of bias that I set out to understand the growing appeal of book bars in NYC.
The Book Bar as a (Youthful) Social Scene
No article on book bars in New York City can begin without a nod to Book Club Bar. Located on East 3rd Street and Avenue B, the spot was opened in 2019 by two East Village residents who met in a book club. The first time I visited Book Club Bar was on a date in 2021. Shortly after, I said adieu to the sensitive real estate lawyer who introduced me to the bar and the works of Ottessa Moshfegh (thanks, kind of). He frequented it too regularly for me to risk visiting again, but in the meantime, it has ballooned in popularity thanks to posts on Instagram and TikTok, and so continues to connect (and propel?) lovers.
There are many reasons Book Club Bar became so popular, its ambiance chief among them. An old-timey bar, armchairs, faux fireplace, and the soft wooden floors covered with rugs all do an excellent job to make it feel bookishly Bohemian. Bookstore bars are also far more forgiving to unpaying and low-paying customers than a regular bar. Although the store’s internet fame is significant, it has plenty of regulars, like a young woman I interrupted as she read Ina Garten’s new memoir. Like most of the customers, she was in her mid-twenties. She lived nearby and was not drinking anything—she had just needed an excuse to leave her apartment and was trying to decide whether she wanted to purchase the book. In the armchair next to her sat a young man with a cup of tap water and a used book in front of him. He was on his phone with headphones in.
Book Club Bar is almost always busy thanks to its ability to serve as a second living room, mating ground, and event space. Their events range from an acoustic music series, to lectures on tap, various book clubs, and spelling bees. The bar serves cocktails, mocktails, wine, and beers, but many visitors still opt for tea or coffee. The gender ratio is heavily skewed to young women with a small dash of romantic young men, and then the rest of us. On a recent Monday evening, every seat at the bar was taken, mostly by customers solitarily immersed in journaling or their phones.
The young man next to me seemed to have been nursing the same cup of tea for hours, frantically taking notes about the UN and WWII, before leaving for a (weed) smoke break, and returning to write in a new composition notebook, the page freshly titled “Puppy Love.”
“Is it your first time reading Fourth Wing?,” a young woman asked another, as she sidled up to the bar. The newcomer had a glorious head of dark curly hair, and wore men’s pants, a soft, grandma-ish sweater, and red lipstick. She ordered a Coke and fernet and settled down to read Kairos. This was her first time visiting Book Club Bar, having seen it on Instagram, but she was already hooked, determining it her “new favorite place.”
For younger generations, which are accelerating trends away from both drinking alcohol and socializing in person, book bars may be a stepping stone towards socializing and being in public. The woman sipping Coke and fernet noted that you can’t just sit and read at a regular bar, a notion I quickly dispelled. For young people who are unaware that no one at a regular bar cares whether you read a book, chat, or sit and stare at the wall, Book Club Bar can be a welcoming entrance into the world of going out in the City.
The Book Bar as The Library You Wish You Had
On Mercer Street, tucked among Soho’s flashy boutiques, is Bibliotheque. Cafe and bookstore by day, wine bar by night (dinner service begins at 5 pm), this book bar leans heavily into the neighborhood’s high-end persona. Opened in 2022 by a plastic surgeon and his writer son, this book bar feels like a rather uncreative millionaire’s study at the turn of the century—walls of floor to ceiling books, chairs for lounging, and plenty of wine. Between the front bar and the back reading room sits the check-out desk, facing a rare book section with signed copies and first editions.
Early on a recent Sunday afternoon, the store was mobbed. Walking in, the warmth of the store greeted visitors. At the packed bar, one person was reading, his headphones on to cover the noise, while the others stared into laptops or phones. Most of the visitors were in their 20s or 30s. An older gentleman sat at one of the front tables reading Why Nothing Works: Who Killed Progress—and How to Bring It Back. It was his own copy, but he’d brought it to page through alongside a cappuccino. He advocated for the book bar model, appreciating that coffees in the first part of the day helped keep him up and then a wine in the later afternoon to help him sleep afterwards.
In the bookstore section, every seat was filled. At the back of the room, two women sat in armchairs reminiscent of a doctor’s office, engrossed in their books. They appeared to be the only ones reading books, opposed to using their phones or laptops. The pair, clad in athleisure wear had stopped in, partially because they allow dogs (a full-sized dog was curled upon one of their laps). “It’s our first time here,” her partner explained. “We had nothing to do at home. It was a way to get out of the house, and still do something.” “And I like the vibe,” the other piped in, “I think the music is calming.” While they enjoyed the space and the opportunity to get out of their apartment, the “bar” portion of the book bar was not a draw. “Do you ever drink while reading?,” I posed.
“Not really…I just think it’s good business.”
“That would put me to sleep.”
The Book Bar as a Cafe with Beautiful Bookish Surroundings
Sullaluna is not really a book bar, but you’d be forgiven for thinking otherwise as you walk past the storefront on Carmine Street in West Village. A table by the front door has picture books laid out and several walls display books instead of pictures. The rest of the light, airy first floor is filled with tables, each topped with a glass bottle of dried hydrangeas, lavender, and grasses; linen napkins; and delicate table settings. In the basement, there are a few more bookshelves and tables with Italian and English graphic novels and children’s books, the pleasant melody of
Italian soft rock plays in the background. This is a cafe that just happens to also sell a thoughtfully curated collection of illustrated titles, and it’s picture book perfect.
The bistro was exported straight from northern Italy (the original Sullaluna is an equally charming, and seemingly more book-heavy shop in Venice). Before visiting, I’d been confused by the juxtaposition of Italian food and books. “Aren’t people afraid of getting red sauce splotches on the books?” I wondered. Instead, you’re more likely to visit for the beautiful setting and delicious food, and then stick around to peruse the books. Or, if you’re an illustrator, you may stop in just to see what they have in stock.
Sitting at Sullaluna’s small bar on a recent afternoon, I realized that the bar’s owner, Fulgi Tonello, was seated next to me. A soft-spoken young man with a heavy Italian accent, he explained his story: “My father has a vineyard for organic prosecco. My mother has a passion for illustration. In 2014, we moved to Venice and they combined the two passions. I was very skeptical at the beginning, but I started working there, and I liked it. I started enjoying the wine, the food, the books, and I wanted to try to do something a bit bigger.” Like so many entrepreneurial young spirits before him, he moved to New York, then spent months renovating the location with his father, before the store officially opened in September.
Sullaluna, like all bookstore bars, is proud of its events and programs. A monthly series that allows attendees “to dive into contemporary, avant-garde, and experimental visual storytelling” with the help of an illustrator and author kicks off this month and is already sold out. In another workshop series, Arte e Storie: Creative Workshop, an experienced illustrator, a psychologist, art supplies, and a cocktail are all on hand. Thus equipped, attendees experiment expressing themselves using various artistic tools.
The food and wine are mainly vegetarian and completely Italian, the type that may require finger pointing at the menu to order; my vellutata di zucca, porri e cieci was a delicious pumpkin, leek, chickpea cream soup topped with olive oil that filled me for the entire afternoon. Around me, I watched as a server delivered a beautiful little cocktail in a frosty, stemmed glass, (a bit of orange rind was attached to the rim with a tiny clothespin); a frothy matcha latte in a thin glass cup; and a cappuccino in an elegant, painted teacup. If you’re less interested in reading in public than in discussing books or life over a home cooked Italian meal and in a setting reminiscent of a European intellectual’s home, this is the book bar for you.
Below Canal Street
South of Canal Street, you’ll find a couple more book stores that offer the sweet nectars of both beer and literature. Chinatown’s Yu & Me Books is the first Asian American woman-owned bookstore. The tiny shop supplies visitors with an incredibly diverse collection of titles, many of which are written by Asian American and queer authors. Although it has very limited seating (some small benches, a few barstools, and a handful of scattered armchairs), a store employee noted that people still stop in for a drink from time to time, usually Thursday through Saturday, when the business is open until 11pm. I have yet to see anyone drinking while visiting, but was tempted by the uncommon selection of alcoholic beverages (Japas beer, makgeolli, canned tea cocktails, or a gose from Dyke beer).
Meanwhile, in South Street Seaport, popular book chain McNally Jackson runs Lower Manhattan’s other bookstore bar. Despite being a chain, it’s hard to resist the store’s clean aesthetic, impressive inventory, and historic feel. Beer from TALEA Beer Co. is on tap, or you can have a glass of wine or sake. At the bar, a couple was having an uncomfortable first date and a young woman was trying her best (yet ultimately failed) to read Wuthering Heights instead of scrolling on Instagram. Even on a weekday evening, every table was filled, mostly by those working from their tablets and laptops.
My quibble with book bars was unwittingly encapsulated in a recent article about their increasing footprint in New York. “…I’ve never stopped loving the idea of loving books…,” the journalist proudly confessed. For many, book bars are a perfect spot to check your phone, while in a chic, semi-public setting and with a cracked book in reaching distance. In visiting the bookstores below East 20th that also serve alcoholic beverages, I was initially disappointed by their primary use for public displays of (pseudo) intellectualism, before finally conceding that perhaps I was just a snob. Maybe loving the idea of loving to read is connected to our society’s deeply entrenched value on education, one which I could surely lean into, especially if handed a glass of Pinot Noir and some Austen.
