By the book

We all want to know what other people are reading. We peer at strangers’ book covers on an airplane and lean over their e-books on the subway. We squint at the iPhone of the person standing in front of us in the elevator. We scan bestseller lists and customer reviews and online social reading sites. Asking someone what she’s read lately is an easy conversational gambit—and the answer is almost bound to be more interesting than the weather. It also serves an actual purpose: we may find out about something we want to read ourselves. When I launched By the Book in The New York Times Book Review, it was an effort to satisfy my own genuine, insatiable desire to know what others—smart people, well-read people, people who are good writers themselves—were reading in their spare time. The idea was to stimulate a conversation over books, but one that took place at a more exalted level than the average watercooler chat. That meant starting big, and for me that meant David Sedaris. Who wouldn’t want to know which books he thinks are funny? Or touching or sad or just plain good?

Short questions, often the same, posed to a slew of mostly white male authors? Well, the answers were interesting, mainly when the answers were embarrassing and funny, but it mostly depended on the interviewee.

Many writers confess here to unorthodox indulgences (Hilary Mantel adores self-help books) and “failures” of personal taste (neither Richard Ford nor Ian McEwan has much patience for Ulysses).

A few years ago, I got on the plane and smiled to see a woman deeply engrossed in one of my books. I settled myself and a few minutes later glanced back. She was in a dead sleep.

I don’t believe in guilty pleasures, I only believe in pleasures. People who call reading detective fiction or eating dessert a guilty pleasure make me want to puke. Pedophilia is a pleasure a person should have guilt about. Not chocolate. —Ira Glass

Most celebrities who aren't authors here, e.g. Colin Powell and Arnold Schwarzenegger, aren't really that interesting to me; Powell sounds like a complete stereotype, but others, like Lena Dunham, are interesting. And where the ladies are concerned, the older, the funnier they are.

I have never read any Tolstoy. I felt badly about this until I read a Bill Simmons column where he confessed that he’d never seen The Big Lebowski. Simmons, it should be pointed out, has seen everything. He said that everyone needs to have skipped at least one great cultural touchstone. —Malcolm Gladwell

Q: When and where do you like to read? A: Reading is still my favorite pastime. It kicks writing’s butt. You learn so much more from reading than you do from writing, although writing pays slightly more. I start reading at four p.m. and continue way into cocktail hour, which begins at four thirty.

All in all, this tome should have contained more breadth of people, and not so much filler. It all became quite repetitive after a while, mainly because most people that were included here had the same kind of background (and foreground), I'm guessing. Still, fun at times, and drab others.

We all want to know what other people are reading. We peer at strangers’ book covers on an airplane and lean over their e-books on the subway. We squint at the iPhone of the person standing in front of us in the elevator. We scan bestseller lists and customer reviews and online social reading sites. Asking someone what she’s read lately is an easy conversational gambit—and the answer is almost bound to be more interesting than the weather. It also serves an actual purpose: we may find out about something we want to read ourselves. When I launched By the Book in The New York Times Book Review, it was an effort to satisfy my own genuine, insatiable desire to know what others—smart people, well-read people, people who are good writers themselves—were reading in their spare time. The idea was to stimulate a conversation over books, but one that took place at a more exalted level than the average watercooler chat. That meant starting big, and for me that meant David Sedaris. Who wouldn’t want to know which books he thinks are funny? Or touching or sad or just plain good?

Short questions, often the same, posed to a slew of mostly white male authors? Well, the answers were interesting, mainly when the answers were embarrassing and funny, but it mostly depended on the interviewee.

Many writers confess here to unorthodox indulgences (Hilary Mantel adores self-help books) and “failures” of personal taste (neither Richard Ford nor Ian McEwan has much patience for Ulysses).

A few years ago, I got on the plane and smiled to see a woman deeply engrossed in one of my books. I settled myself and a few minutes later glanced back. She was in a dead sleep.

I don’t believe in guilty pleasures, I only believe in pleasures. People who call reading detective fiction or eating dessert a guilty pleasure make me want to puke. Pedophilia is a pleasure a person should have guilt about. Not chocolate. —Ira Glass

Most celebrities who aren't authors here, e.g. Colin Powell and Arnold Schwarzenegger, aren't really that interesting to me; Powell sounds like a complete stereotype, but others, like Lena Dunham, are interesting. And where the ladies are concerned, the older, the funnier they are.

I have never read any Tolstoy. I felt badly about this until I read a Bill Simmons column where he confessed that he’d never seen The Big Lebowski. Simmons, it should be pointed out, has seen everything. He said that everyone needs to have skipped at least one great cultural touchstone. —Malcolm Gladwell

Q: When and where do you like to read? A: Reading is still my favorite pastime. It kicks writing’s butt. You learn so much more from reading than you do from writing, although writing pays slightly more. I start reading at four p.m. and continue way into cocktail hour, which begins at four thirty.

All in all, this tome should have contained more breadth of people, and not so much filler. It all became quite repetitive after a while, mainly because most people that were included here had the same kind of background (and foreground), I'm guessing. Still, fun at times, and drab others.

We all want to know what other people are reading. We peer at strangers’ book covers on an airplane and lean over their e-books on the subway. We squint at the iPhone of the person standing in front of us in the elevator. We scan bestseller lists and customer reviews and online social reading sites. Asking someone what she’s read lately is an easy conversational gambit—and the answer is almost bound to be more interesting than the weather. It also serves an actual purpose: we may find out about something we want to read ourselves. When I launched By the Book in The New York Times Book Review, it was an effort to satisfy my own genuine, insatiable desire to know what others—smart people, well-read people, people who are good writers themselves—were reading in their spare time. The idea was to stimulate a conversation over books, but one that took place at a more exalted level than the average watercooler chat. That meant starting big, and for me that meant David Sedaris. Who wouldn’t want to know which books he thinks are funny? Or touching or sad or just plain good?

Short questions, often the same, posed to a slew of mostly white male authors? Well, the answers were interesting, mainly when the answers were embarrassing and funny, but it mostly depended on the interviewee.

Many writers confess here to unorthodox indulgences (Hilary Mantel adores self-help books) and “failures” of personal taste (neither Richard Ford nor Ian McEwan has much patience for Ulysses).

A few years ago, I got on the plane and smiled to see a woman deeply engrossed in one of my books. I settled myself and a few minutes later glanced back. She was in a dead sleep.

I don’t believe in guilty pleasures, I only believe in pleasures. People who call reading detective fiction or eating dessert a guilty pleasure make me want to puke. Pedophilia is a pleasure a person should have guilt about. Not chocolate. —Ira Glass

Most celebrities who aren't authors here, e.g. Colin Powell and Arnold Schwarzenegger, aren't really that interesting to me; Powell sounds like a complete stereotype, but others, like Lena Dunham, are interesting. And where the ladies are concerned, the older, the funnier they are.

I have never read any Tolstoy. I felt badly about this until I read a Bill Simmons column where he confessed that he’d never seen The Big Lebowski. Simmons, it should be pointed out, has seen everything. He said that everyone needs to have skipped at least one great cultural touchstone. —Malcolm Gladwell

Q: When and where do you like to read? A: Reading is still my favorite pastime. It kicks writing’s butt. You learn so much more from reading than you do from writing, although writing pays slightly more. I start reading at four p.m. and continue way into cocktail hour, which begins at four thirty.

All in all, this tome should have contained more breadth of people, and not so much filler. It all became quite repetitive after a while, mainly because most people that were included here had the same kind of background (and foreground), I'm guessing. Still, fun at times, and drab others.