Philly’s book clubs are hot, queer, and full of snacks
Bookclubs across Philadelphia are meeting with two goals: tackle their ever-growing TBR lists and build meaningful connections with books.
On a Saturday afternoon in February, Lora Anderson and Bee Knight sat inside the Spruce Hill Community Association in West Philadelphia, surrounded by about 25 strangers. After quick introductions around a cluster of tables, the group launched into a spirited discussion about five fictional friends caught in a tangle of sex, lies, and corruption.
“[It was] a fiery conversation of piggybacking [off each other] and slamming our hands on the table [by the end of the hour],” Knight said.
The characters may have been fictional, but the conversation was real — and part of a growing network of book clubs across Philadelphia where readers come together not just to tackle their growing to-be-read piles, but to build community, one book at a time.
At Queer Books Philly’s meeting, the group discussed its latest read, Little Rot by Akwaeke Emezi, that brought up feelings of shame, guilt, and growth among readers.
“I think book clubs provide a space for people to really be vulnerable and talk about things that they might not be able to talk about, opening up a dialogue and allowing people to become comfortable with one another,” said Anderson, who cofounded the club with Knight to create a welcoming space for queer Philadelphians.
Launched in June 2024, Queer Books Philly meets every four to six weeks at the Spruce Hill Community Association — or Clark Park in warmer weather — drawing between 15 and 30 masked participants. The meetings begin with introductions before moving into open discussion. Anderson and Knight select books by queer and BIPOC authors across a range of genres, from sci-fi, to romance. There are no requirements to join — just a willingness to read, mask up, and bring your thoughts, questions, and feelings to the table.
“That’s the thing about books — [they] are just so human,” Knight added. “I found a lot of language for my existence [in books] — being a queer person, finding that language is pivotal for a lot of us, and I think books offer that in many facets of our lives.”
Across town in the Italian Market, Catie Gainor finds similar joy in cookbooks.
Each month, Gainor hosts a lively potluck inside her cookbook store, Binding Agents, inviting fellow food lovers to bring dishes cooked using recipes from the month’s featured title. The inaugural meeting of the Binding Agents Cookbook Club in January centered around Sebze: Vegetarian Recipes from My Turkish Kitchen by Özlem Warren.
Folks sign up for the club via the cookbook shop’s email newsletter. A week before the event, Gainor sends a spreadsheet with dish categories and sign-up slots. The cookbook club meeting is similar to a dinner party: long tables lined with food, casual conversation, and lots of recipe talk.
Hosting a cookbook club is helping Gainor find support and solidarity with others who are feeling “the weight of the world and the climate we’re living in [right now].”
“Nobody reads the same book — you read the same text, but your experience of reading the book is different,” she said. “That’s just as true of cookbooks as it is with fiction, nonfiction, or any genre. Sharing what you bring to the text is vulnerable and opens up the opportunity for conversation that is deep and meaningful — and with a cookbook club in particular, I think cooking for someone is scary, so opening yourself up that way and having others do the same for you feels like friendship right off the bat.”
For Kristin Moore, building new friendships as a Philadelphia transplant was the motivation behind starting her own club — and lately, she’s seen more people looking to do the same.
Once every three months, a member of Philaqueens POC Facebook group will post a query for local book clubs, quickly followed by a tag for Moore’s club in the comments, she said. “I think a lot of women [out of college or in their 30s are asking], ‘How do I make friends with people when I don’t have the opportunity [or spaces] to do so — that’s why they’re showing up.”
Moore, a member of the 3,200-member Philaqueens POC group, launched a subgroup for bookworms to meet monthly and discuss their latest reads. Around eight to 13 members gather at coffee shops, wine bars, or parks, books in hand.
Book selections are usually decided by a poll Moore posts at the start of the month, though sometimes members suggest titles — from memoirs to steamy romances — that spark interest.
“Everything feels really heavy right now, Moore said. “[The bookclub is] just a time where you’re allowing yourself to think about something else, whether it’s the book, someone else’s story, or even just the good matcha that you ordered — you’re allowing yourself to step outside of your busy life for two hours and connect with others.”
And reading books is “sexy,” says Sydney Matthews.
The South Philly-based digital creator, with over 90,000 followers, runs two monthly book clubs, one for her hometown friends in Bucks County and one for her Philly friends called Sexy Bookclub. “It’s hot to be reading incredible literature with your friends and discussing literature that you like,” she said.
Matthews felt book clubs were the “perfect buffer” for staying in touch with friends while offering them a space to make new connections. The club also serves as a quasi-dinner party, hopping from one friend’s house to another. While her bookclub is private, Matthews hopes to expand into a larger community of readers and dig into articles and other writings along with books.
“We are have this common ground, which is this book we all read — some people hate it, others love it,” Matthews said. “But then you leave and you’re like, ‘Oh, that was a beautiful thing.‘”
“There’s just something so satisfying about indulging in a book with your community,” she added.