I had, without exaggeration, one of the worst dining experiences of my life and it had nothing to do with the food, which is pretty ok.
What wasn't ok was the gang of over 50 book-banging brigands who, in a hostile takeover, turned the place into their private reading room. They call themselves the Silent Book Club and apparently they do this prolifically at hip-casual dining establishments across the country.
The harbinger of their coming was the obnoxious ringing of a handbell. As we sat down to eat they paraded past the hostess and staff, spreading across the entire dining area for maximum dispersion, and declaring they would be reading among us, requiring ABSOLUTE SILENCE. This isn't just some book club, this is a bunch of people who invade a shared space so they can INDIVIDUALLY read THEIR OWN book.
Now listen, I read (lol) and I have no problem with people who enjoy reading in public. I also get that in the engagement-driven world we live in, it is becoming more difficult for people to read long-form content, and rarer in the physical medium.
I have a problem with people who feel compelled to read very conspicuously, in places where it doesn't make any sense to, as a means to signal their status as literati. I have a problem with people who latch onto a superficial novelty to enshrine a contrarian critique of their peers to whom they are otherwise 99.9% alike. I have a problem with unhealthy obsession with the primitive as a very narrow answer to modern ailments.
You know who I'm talking about. The man-bun who's meditating, in lotus pose of course, on the metro during rush hour. That anthropology major friend who wants to talk about how much better agrarian society was, ignoring feudalism and the plague. The guy wearing non-rx glasses who wants to discuss Nietzsche in the middle of a frat rager. Your cousin who studied abroad in London for half a summer and is now cultured and worldly. Sonny's was hosting the premier conference for these people.
Do you know how much noise you make when you're eating? Not like talking and laughing, you know, things people enjoy while dining out. I mean just the act of eating. You will if you have to do it in the silence of the grave, under threat of piercing glances and exaggerated scoffing. Just sipping ice water becomes a car wreck, and food definitely tastes worse when you have to focus on chewing as slowly and noiselessly as possible.
Worst of all was seeing how terrified the workers were and how arrogantly they were being treated by this cult of the book; that was beyond the pale. Diners can tolerate the temporary shame of disturbing this sacred ritual of sonic abstinence, but for the staff it's clear they've been directed to cater to every whim or risk their livelihoods.
These readers were definitely on some power trip, waving and pantomiming and finally, only with great irritation, airily whispering their orders. Their mission statement is illuminating: "every time I open a book at home I get interrupted so we are creating a space where we can just commit to reading silently". So pretty much they have no agency at home, so they go out and appropriate a space to lord their authority over service workers, yeah ok.
And since they were so enraptured by their reading, they barely ordered anything but sodas and apps, so you know the tips were smaller than the font in your favorite fantasy novel. I learned later they don't even pay to use the space, they just say ahead of time when they're showing up. Shame on management for allowing their employees to suffer these indignities!
The hilarious part is it's obvious these people don't even read, what with how novel and interesting they seem to think reading makes them look. This is reinforced by their apparent lack of familiarity with libraries, you know, those public places where you can go and read individually in enforced silence among other book enjoyers. Apparently the only permissible breach of the noise taboo was to loudly, and agonizingly slowly, turn your page, signaling to the other drones your advancement in the way of the book.
Half of them were engrossed in perennial, highbrow titles like "1984", "Crime and Punishment", "Fahrenheit 451", etc.; pretty much your high school English syllabus. The other half were elevating their books in positions optimized for outward visibility of the cover, but I can't imagine positioning a book vertically at eye level and at arms length is particularly conducive to reading. It's all a classic case of someone touching grass and immediately harassing others to do so.
This has all really soured my impression of Sonny's and I doubt I will be returning for risk of experiencing the sequel. I could barely get the check without a hurricane of shushing. A draft of The Winds of Winter must have been taped on my back because I could feel the glare of a hundred eyes on me as I declined to tiptoe out the door. read more