"In 2009, Christopher Frizzelle... pioneered the first 'silent reading party' at the city’s Hotel Sorrento."

"Accompanied by live piano music, the in-person and virtual reading series fosters 'healthy peer pressure' and a sense of community, according to the Silent Reading Party website. Silent Reading Party offshoots are proliferating worldwide.... The $20 events take place at night and typically sell out weeks ahead of time. Curious to explore the power of healthy peer pressure, I paid $10 to attend a recent late-night Silent Reading Party on Zoom.... For two hours, a pianist accompanied readers with dreamy New Age music, occasionally interrupted by the icy clink of a bartender’s cocktail shaker. I read my book, occasionally forgetting I was not alone. Then I’d peer at the hotel scene, where participants read in silence, took notes and sipped their drinks...."

Writes Stephanie Shapiro, in "I’m retired, and I still won’t let myself read in the daytime. Why not?" (WaPo, free access link).

You'll notice that the bit I quoted has nothing to do with what's in the headline. But it's a sidetrack that caught my interest. When I'd first read about the idea of a "silent reading party," I thought it was a pleasant idea. I thought the website was used to let people know where the group reading would take place. I was surprised that you had to buy tickets (and that some clown would be tickling the ivories). If you want to read with other people around you, go to a café. Or — here's an outlandish idea — a library.

Enough of that distraction. The author's main idea, as reflected in the title, is that a lot of people feel they should be productive or physically active during daylight hours and they also feel that lying (or sitting) about reading is lazy. For them, reading is not unworthy when you're winding down in the evening, pre-sleep. Then, it's virtuous. Otherwise, they're nagged by a fear of indolence. I don't share that attitude, but I have some advice for someone, like the column writer, who wants to get over it: active reading. 

Figure out a way to read that is inconsistent with the worry that you're slothful. Read something difficult enough that you'll feel you're accomplishing something. Mysteries? Celebrity bios? The column writer never tells us what kind of books she reads. Set those books aside and level up. Read a challenging novel or serious nonfiction. Stop and think as you go along. Takes notes. Memorize passages. Etc.

Another way to read actively is to use an audiobook and go for a vigorous walk or run. Or do those household chores you seem to think are so important.

Or you could work to free yourself from that fetish for busyness. Here are 3 books you can read: "An Apology for Idlers" by Robert Louis Stevenson, "Essays in Idleness" by the Buddhist monk Kenko, "In Praise of Idleness" by Bertrand Russell. Forgive the "commission earned" links. I copied the booklist from an old post of mine and I am too lazy to redo them. I'm lazy about everything I think is not worth my time, and I'm proud of that laziness. Value your time, and use it well. If your reading doesn't meet that standard — if it's not worth your time unless it's part of putting yourself to sleep — you need better reading. 

The most ludicrous part of all of this is the idea that if people pay to sit around reading — $20 for those silent reading parties — it makes them think it's worth it. There's a market price on it. No, the most ludicrous part is that you pay $20 for silent reading and somebody plays the damned piano.