Authored by Purva Grover
Book clubs are booming in Dubai. Books are everywhere — in Reels, in cafés, tucked beside cappuccinos and candles, peeking out of tote bags like accessories. Aesthetic? Absolutely. Aspirational? Of course. And I am all for it.
But I worry when books become props instead of portals.
At one club, pirated PDFs are passed around casually — sometimes by aspiring authors who joke, “When my book comes out, you better buy it!” At another, members are told not to bother reading at all: “Just watch a summary on YouTube or ask ChatGPT.” (I use both tools. I value them, but surely they cannot replace the slow, intimate act of reading?)
Then there are seasonal book clubs that only meet in winter — often on yachts. Influencer-only gatherings. Perfectly styled tables. It feels like we’re sipping stories rather than soaking them in.
And that is why I built The Reading Village.
I have lived in Dubai for 13 years. I have written for nearly two decades. I have four books behind me. Over the years, I have hosted literary salons, school clubs, and community circles. I started #abookaweek — one book every week, no pressure, no performance, just the joy of reading. I read 52 books a year because reading is my content. It is nourishment for me.
The Reading Village was born from a simple longing: a space where readers reconnect with words. Where we recommend what moved us. Where we fall in love with stories again.
Most of us crave a village — a small constellation of people who recognise us and show up. As adults, connection no longer happens by default; it happens by choice. And villages are inconvenient. They ask you to step out on evenings you might prefer to stay in. They bring the occasional awkward silence, but far more moments of ease and belonging. They do not wait for life to be perfectly sorted. They arrive in the middle of full lives.
Villages are not created on mood boards. They are not held together by aesthetic backdrops. They are built on coffee spills, dog-eared pages, borrowed books, shared recommendations, and gentle reminders that say: Are you reading with us this month?
We now meet regularly at a local coffee shop, lounge, bar, or restaurant in Dubai. We discuss the month’s book — characters, themes, ideas — and often end up talking about life, culture, society. Whether you are an experienced reader or just beginning your literary journey, there is a place for you here.
I once ran a thriving community called Dubai Written Word Society. We hosted poetry nights, book meets, and author interactions. The momentum stalled during the pandemic when everything moved online. Last year, the community returned — not virtually, but fully. In person. In conversation. In commitment.
What do we hope to build? Inclusive, supportive discussions. Opportunities to sharpen reading, writing, and critical thinking. Workshops and guest speakers. Book crawls and book tastings. Meaningful connections. Or simply — a reason to pick up a book.
Ramadan is a month of reflection. Of returning. Of choosing what nourishes you. We are careful about what we consume physically; perhaps we should be just as intentional about what we consume intellectually and emotionally.
If you are ready for stories that are not just sipped but absorbed — welcome to The Reading Village. Let’s grow. Let’s read. Let’s connect.
Instagram: @_thereadingvillage
We’re meeting in February!
February at The Reading Village brings a seriously ambitious pick: The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny by Kiran Desai, which is shortlisted for the 2025 Booker Prize — sprawling, layered, and unapologetically thick (good luck to all of us). We’re meeting on 26 February at 8 pm at Batliwala & Co, Business Bay, for an evening of big thoughts, shared pages, and honest reactions over food and drinks. The format is simple: one book a month, chosen by poll, a free-to-attend gathering, and conversations that linger longer than the coffee. To attend, DM us on Instagram or drop a line, hello@purvagrover.com
