I’m Kayla, and I read on the subway like it’s my job. So a gay book club in NYC felt like home right away. I tried three meetups over two months. Some were cute. Some were loud. All had heart.
You know what? I didn’t expect to laugh this much over sad books.
Why I Went
I wanted queer voices and real talk. Not just the back cover blurbs. I wanted friends who’d get a joke about a messy ex in a James Baldwin scene. And I wanted nights where the room buzzed and the coffee was too strong.
I sometimes browse Gay Book Reviews for fresh picks before the meetup, but hearing live reactions in a room full of queers hits different.
Also, I needed a push to finish a book before midnight.
How It Usually Works
- RSVP on Meetup or Eventbrite. They fill fast.
- Pay? Most are free, with a small donation jar for the space.
- Books: Bring your copy. Dog-eared is fine. I do that too.
- Names and pronouns at the start. It’s warm and easy.
- Group size: 8 to 20 people. Big enough to get fresh views. Small enough to speak.
Snacks pop up sometimes. Seltzer. Trader Joe’s cookies. Someone always brings cuties (the tiny oranges). Bless them.
Three Nights, Three Clubs
Night 1: “Giovanni’s Room” at The Center (West Village)
We met inside the Bureau of General Services—Queer Division (peek at their about page), the little bookstore at The Center. We sat in a circle, knees nearly touching. Malik, the host, kept time with a soft bell. Very calm. Very kind.
We talked about David’s fear and how love can feel like a trap when you’re scared. A guy named Jorge said, “I thought I was mad at David. I think I’m mad at me, ten years ago.” Oof. I felt that in my ribs.
The room got warm. Coats on laps. I cried a bit when someone read a line out loud. No one stared. I left with a list of Baldwin essays tucked in my tote.
Small gripe: the chairs were a little rough after 90 minutes. Bring a sweater to fold. I did. Worked great.
Night 2: “Detransition, Baby” at Bluestockings (Lower East Side)
This one ran like a community circle. Quick content warnings. A stack system so folks took turns. A trans woman in a red scarf made a point about care work that stuck with me all week.
We didn’t agree on everything. That’s okay. We held the talk with care. Still, the espresso machine in the back hissed like a dragon. I had to lean in to hear. Not a huge deal, just a thing.
The best part? A casual book swap after. I traded a Joan Didion paperback for “Nevada.” Fair trade. My bag felt lighter, but my brain felt packed.
Night 3: “Less” at Book Club Bar (East Village)
Wine, twinkle lights, and a happy hum. The bar hosts a queer read night once a month. It’s busy, so come early. I drank an iced coffee because I’m that person. Yes, even in January.
We argued (nicely) about whether “Less” is sad or sweet. I said both. A woman named Priya called it a “soft landing after a hard year.” That line could sell the book by itself.
Downside: chatter from the other tables bled in. Also, the bathroom line was a saga. Still fun. Still worth it.
What I Loved
- Range: classics like “Giovanni’s Room,” newer stuff like “Memorial,” “Detransition, Baby,” and a curveball memoir someone slipped into the mix. If you want even more titles starring queer leads, this round-up of books with a gay protagonist fed at least half of my current TBR.
- People: students, elders, theater kids, finance folks, a teacher who writes in the margins with a purple pen. I adore her notes.
- Care: pronouns, access notes, and no shame for reading on audio.
- Discovery: I keep a notes app list now—recently padded with some sparkling picks from this feature on gay fantasy books. It’s chaos and joy.
What Bugged Me (A Little)
- Noise at cafés. The milk steamer has strong opinions.
- RSVP caps. They fill up fast. Set a reminder.
- Some lists lean heavy on gay male authors. Ask to add more trans and lesbian writers. People listened when I asked, which felt good.
- Seating. Fold-out chairs + long talks = fidget city.
Who Should Go
- You like queer books. Or you want to.
- You can sit with tough themes and still be kind.
- You’re okay speaking—or just listening the first time. Both fly.
If you want quiet, pick the bookstore setting. If you want buzz, pick the bar. If you want structure, go to a community spot like Bluestockings.
Sometimes the post-discussion energy turns flirtatious, and you might wish you’d swapped numbers before everyone scattered to the subway. On nights like that, you can keep the momentum going by browsing the open-minded dating hub at Instabang — it lets you filter for queer matches, slide into DMs, and decide whether your shared love of Baldwin deserves coffee, cocktails, or something a little steamier after closing time.
The flip side: some nights you leave buzzing so hard your brain won't shut up. When my TBR pile and my feelings both feel too tight to hold, I treat myself to a little out-of-town self-care. If your travels ever drop you in Idaho and you crave a quiet, low-key massage to unknot those subway-hunched shoulders, Rubmaps Meridian lays out crowd-sourced spa intel neighborhood by neighborhood so you can find a reputable table, skip the guesswork, and return to your next chapter feeling blissfully limber.
Real Tips From Me to You
- Show up 10 minutes early. Say hi to the host. Easy icebreaker.
- Bring sticky tabs. Mark 3 quotes. Share one.
- Hydrate. You’ll talk more than you think.
- Ask about access. Some rooms are small; chairs can be tight.
- Buy a book from the space if you can. Keeps the lights on.
- Craving an even bigger lit scene? The annual Rainbow Book Fair packs one glorious day with queer presses, authors, and readers.
Season note: winter meetings get cozy, but everyone wears giant coats, so seats vanish fast. Summer? Bring water and sit near a fan.
My Favorite Moments
- A quiet hug after someone said, “This book helped me come out.”
- A group laugh at a very bad dad in a very good novel.
- Walking to the subway with new friends and arguing, softly, about endings.
Final Take
I went for books. I stayed for the people. These clubs made reading feel like a shared meal—warm, messy, and real. Not perfect, but true.
Would I go again next month? Yes. I already RSVP’d.
If you see me—short hair, silver hoops, notebook full of scribbles—say hi. I’ll share my highlighter.