is the lonely reader really lonely?

Hello.

I read an article on Lit Hub titled "The (un)Lonely Reader: On the Pleasure of Finding Community in a Book". Emily Anderson explores the paradoxical nature of reading as both a solitary and communal activity. Drawing on her personal experiences and Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein," she discusses how books provide companionship to lonely readers, creating a sense of connection through shared narratives. She reflects on how reading aloud fosters community and intimacy, highlighting the emotional and intellectual fulfillment books offer. Anderson argues that while reading can be an isolating activity, it ultimately enhances our capacity for empathy and connection, bridging the gap between solitude and community.

In a world where screens dominate our daily lives, the longing for genuine human connection persists more than ever. While we're constantly plugged into social media, news feeds, and digital interactions, (even our dearest substack), there's an inherent desire for the warmth and intimacy that only real-life connections can offer. Anderson's reflections on the communal aspect of reading highlight how books can bridge this gap, offering a shared space where individuals can connect over common narratives and experiences.

There is nothing that brings me more comfort than being enveloped by a new book. But there are moments when, even as an introvert, I wish for company or some sort of presence near me while I devour my literature. Let me describe to you the phenomena of the lonely introvert. These are people (myself included) who naturally prefer solitude but still experience a profound sense of loneliness. While they may enjoy spending time alone and feel drained by social interactions, they also crave meaningful connections and understanding from others. We’re a walking paradox, highlighting the complexity of introversion, where the need for personal space coexists with a desire for deep, authentic relationships. In a digital world that often emphasizes superficial connections, we struggle to find the genuine, fulfilling interactions we seek. I’d like to think that Substack is 96.4% lonely introverts. That’s why we get along so well. Forget dating apps. Let us petition a little virtual substack dating event for people seeking platonic and romanic relationships. (I’ve already pitched this idea to Jstor, Criterion, The Paris Review, and other pubs for the intelligent insufferable lonely introvert). Do you think they’ll respond?

Despite the isolating nature of digital consumption, the act of reading a physical book or participating in a book club can foster a profound sense of community. When we immerse ourselves in a story, we find companionship in the characters and empathy through their journeys, much like how we seek meaningful connections in our offline lives. Reading aloud, as Anderson mentions, enhances this experience, creating moments of shared intimacy and collective understanding that digital interactions often lack. There are so many digital bookclubs, but I find even in cities like New York or LA or Boston, they’re hard to find in person, and a lot of them feel exclusive or unapproachable.

In essence, this article really spoke to me and I think you’ll appreciate it, too as Anderson's insights remind us that while technology offers convenience and instant connectivity, it often falls short in satisfying our deeper emotional needs. Books, on the other hand, provide a timeless refuge where we can find solace and a sense of belonging. They encourage us to slow down, reflect, and engage in thoughtful conversations, fostering real-world connections that enrich our lives beyond the digital realm. So until we can meet irl, I supposed our beloved books and Substack posts will have to do.

I won’t let you go without a few book recommendations. Here are some of my favorites that make me feel less alone and/or allow my brain to escape:

My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante:
A powerful exploration of the complex and enduring friendship between two women, Lila and Elena, from childhood to adulthood in a turbulent Naples neighborhood.

Henry and June by Anaïs Nin:
A candid and erotic account of Nin's passionate love affair with writer Henry Miller and his wife June, set against the backdrop of 1930s Paris.

Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto:
A touching novella about grief, healing, and the comfort of food, following a young woman who finds solace in cooking after the loss of her loved ones.

The Complete Poems by Anne Sexton:
A comprehensive collection of Anne Sexton's intense and confessional poetry, exploring themes of mental illness, feminism, and personal anguish.

The Secret History by Donna Tartt:
A gripping tale of a group of elite college students who fall into a world of murder and betrayal under the influence of their charismatic professor.

Normal People by Sally Rooney:
A poignant and intimate exploration of the evolving relationship between Connell and Marianne, from their school days in a small Irish town to university life in Dublin.

Slouching Towards Bethlehem by Joan Didion:
A seminal collection of essays capturing the essence of 1960s California, blending personal reflections with sharp cultural criticism.

Coraline by Neil Gaiman:
A dark fantasy about a young girl who discovers a parallel world behind a mysterious door in her new home, where things are eerily perfect but sinister.

Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner:
A heartfelt memoir by the lead singer of Japanese Breakfast, detailing her Korean-American upbringing, her mother’s death, and how food helped her cope with grief.

See you tomorrow.

P.S. I’m writing out our summer master list filled with films, books, activities, recipes to make, music to listen to, and more. I’ll be sending that out very soon.

Love you.

Bye <3