Queen of the Book Club

I’d never eaten Nashville hot chicken before, and I’d never met Reese Witherspoon.

But there we were — she, in a blue and white pinstripe Oxford and jeans; me, in forgettable clothing, having rolled up to Witherspoon’s office with a borrowed suitcase. You can’t very well greet the actor who played Elle Woods toting luggage with a visible burn mark across the top. (Related: Never use your carry-on as an ironing board.)

I’ve been following Witherspoon’s inroads in the book world ever since I saw her in “Wild” (2014) and knew, just by the gritty, vulnerable way she embodied Cheryl Strayed that she was a fellow book lover. In 2017, Witherspoon started Reese’s Book Club, which focuses on fiction by women, about women, and reliably sends its monthly picks onto the best-seller list. Last year, print sales for the club’s selections outpaced those of Oprah’s Book Club and Read With Jenna, according to Circana Bookscan, adding up to 2.3 million copies sold.

I’ve enjoyed many of Witherspoon’s picks and interviewed a number of Reese’s Book Club’s authors — including Alka Joshi, Nina Simon and Celeste Ng — for the Book Review. I wanted to talk with her, reader to reader, and the lead-up to her 100th pick seemed like the perfect time.

Over lunch, Witherspoon told me that she likes to read in the morning, after exercising. (I read instead of exercising.) She organizes her books by color and prefers physical copies to digital ones. She wears reading glasses, 1.5 strength — a tidbit that didn’t make it into my story but gave me a certain middle age presbyopic nerd thrill. (By the way, the hot chicken was delicious.)

“I read a lot on airplanes, while I’m traveling,” Witherspoon said. “Do you know what’s interesting? It’s hard for me to read on vacation, maybe because reading is my job.”

I can relate. Many of us professional readers lament the lost luxury of enjoying books “like a normal person” instead of guzzling straight from the faucet, always a gulp away from losing the plot (literally). I know what you’re thinking: Boohoo. And you’re right!

What struck me about Witherspoon’s comment was the reminder — so obvious I didn’t even ask a follow-up question — that reading is supposed to be a hobby, belonging in the same category as listening to music, dabbling in watercolor and baking bread. Why has it become so much more complicated than other pastimes? Why do so many readers turn to the “experts” — big-name book clubs, critics, BookTok — for help figuring out what to read next? Don’t get me wrong: I love being a part of the engine that fuels these recommendations, and Witherspoon clearly does too. But I still believe in the power of standing in a bookstore or library, running your fingers over the spines.

Witherspoon said her original goals for Reese’s Book Club were to narrow the choices for busy readers and to “bring the book club out of your grandma’s living room and online.” Indeed, there are 882 comments beneath the club’s Instagram post about its May pick, “How to End a Love Story,” so she appears to have been successful in this regard.

Now, she said, “My dream is that it gets a little bit off the digital world and back into your living room.”

Even Witherspoon, doyenne of digital book clubbing, has an IRL club of her own.

I second this approach. The digital world is an excellent place to get ideas and talk (or type) about books. But, to me, the difference between scrolling through videos of book hauls and talking about a great novel with a friend is the difference between walking on a treadmill and hiking in the woods.

On my way home from Nashville, I popped into the airport outpost of Ann Patchett’s bookstore, Parnassus. I didn’t buy anything; my suitcase was already straining at the zipper from the six novels I packed for my 24-hour trip. (Recommendations for beach reads, coming soon!) I also didn’t impose my opinions on strangers, as I’m wont to do in the Hudson Booksellers at my home airport. I just stood there, flipping through paperbacks, enjoying the particular soundtrack of a store on a busy concourse. Wheels rolling, credit cards tapping, rushed customers asking where to find what they needed — Kristin Hannah, Fareed Zakaria, Sarah Maas, a book light, a birthday card, a bathroom. Over and over, the clerk murmured, “Will that be all?” and “Have a safe trip.”

Eventually, feeling like the luckiest person who ever read under the covers by flashlight, I joined the throng of travelers and headed to my gate. By the time I finished my book, I was home.

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The hunt: A New Yorker took her $400,000 budget to the Hudson Valley. Which home did she choose? Play our game.

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