How I enjoy pubs as both an introvert and extrovert
When it comes to pubs I can simultaneously crave busy establishments and more tranquil settings
As it’s Christmas, chart rankings are very important on Amazon. If you’ve got a copy of my book, from whatever source, please, please, please review it here.
Please donated to my Ko-Fi here. If you’ve not done so already buy Desi Pubs - A guide to British-Indian Pubs, Food & Culture here.
If you like today’s article please pledge some funds here.
Disclaimer: this newsletter often mentions beer and pubs. You do not have to read this if your life has been affected by substance abuse.
I’m taking excruciating pleasure in reading The Lonely City by Olivia Laing. The agony comes solely from my jealousy of her wonderful prose; it’s beautifully written and forensic in how it ties interesting ideas on the theme of loneliness together.
The novelist (who is a few months older than me - another punch to the gut) charts her feelings of remoteness in an urban landscape, New York in this case, while simultaneously comparing her plight with several artists, most notably, Andy Warhol and Edward Hopper.
The latter is famous for 1942’s Nighthawks, which Laing argues is a work that focuses on the experience of isolation in a busy setting, while deftly comparing the painting to the Alfred Hitchcock film Rear Window.
In one excruciating scene, Jeffries [the James Stewart protagonist] watches through a zoom lens as she makes herself up in a mirror, dressed in an emerald green suit, before putting on large black glasses to assess the effect. The act is intensely private, not intended for spectators. Instead of displaying the polished exterior she’s so painstakingly produced, what she inadvertently reveals instead is her longing and vulnerability, her desire to be desirable, her fear that she’s running short on what remains for women a chief currency of exchange.
Hopper’s paintings are full of women like her; women who appear to be in the grips of loneliness that has to do with gender and unattainable standards of appearance, and that gets increasingly toxic and strangulating with age. But if Jeffries is performing Hopper’s characteristic gaze - cool, curious, detached - then Hitchcock is also at pains to show how voyeurism works to isolate the viewer as well as the viewed. In Rear Window voyeurism is explicitly presented as an escape from intimacy, a way of side-stepping real emotional demands.
I’m guilty of people-watching in pubs - not just there too, as I type this I’m in a cafe and am eavesdropping on an intimate conversation about death and loss. This was voyeurism that I believe had good intentions - I thought about supporting one of them by saying “you’re doing great” but then realised that would reveal my invasion of his privacy.
In this type of situation you wouldn’t assume that I was the ‘lonely party’ but I know my inherent nosiness isn’t a healthy pursuit, setting me apart from the crowd by putting me in the pretentious category of ‘flaneur’ (or ‘pest’ depending on your tolerance levels).
However, it’s the details of Warhol that Laing provides which really resonate with me. I never knew much about the pop artist’s personality and it’s this description below that I feel almost shamed by. (Shame plays a large part in my life, sadly. Which I’ll explain later.)
Andy himself [said]: ‘I don’t really feel all these people with me every day at the Factory are just hanging around me. I’m more hanging around them … I think we’re in a vacuum; it leaves me alone to my work.’
Alone in a crowd; hungry for company but ambivalent about contact: it’s not surprising that in the Silver Factory years Warhol acquired the nickname Drella, a portmanteau of Cinderella, the girl left behind in the kitchen while everyone else has gone to the ball, and Dracula, who gains his nourishment from the living essence of other human beings.
Now I’m no Drella - and Warhol really should’ve spoken to the Silver Factory HR department about that moniker - but I do feel sometimes the need to be simultaneously alone and to be in a crowd which makes pubs potentially both soothing and painful.
A paradoxical feature I will explore today.
I often see memes that explore the introverted personality trait in meretricious ways: there’s usually a celebrity, such as Daniel Radcliffe, making a sweeping statement that feels universal but ultimately cannot be possibly applicable to one half of humanity.
Especially in my case. My father was very sociable and never liked being alone, while my mum was the opposite, spending a lot of time watching TV to avoid conversation and keep an imaginary forcefield around her. Fittingly, she liked sci-fi and, even more troubling, Warhol used TV in this way.
I feel I have a big mix of the two but I veer towards my father’s gregarious nature, although my immediate family (and close friends) will probably disagree with this.
When it comes to pubs then I sometimes crave busy, loud establishments or very peaceful places. (I can then instantly yearn for the other hoping people leave/walk through the door depending on my mood). I sometimes love meeting my friends in the pub, other times the opposite.
Maybe I’m just simply introverted and can act extroverted well. Manchester-based beer blogger Phil Edwards is one such soul who feels that social situations should be taken in moderation as he often can feel drained after them - but that doesn’t mean he avoids the pub. Far from it.
“Being introverted doesn’t mean you're constantly nervous,” he tells me, “and avoiding crowded places. It can mean you positively enjoy your own company particularly in social spaces. You enjoy being in a place that’s frequented by other people, just as long as it’s not too busy and they don’t bother you!
“Daytime drinking is really good for that. There has to be some atmosphere and there’s the possibility that more people will arrive and a buzz will develop: a pub where you know something will happen later that night is ideal. It’s empty but it’s dead because something is definitely going to happen.”
But here’s the slightly nihilistic part: if I'm feeling lonely I don’t necessarily want people to talk to me. And, confusingly, there’s times where I like talking to strangers. If I’m being honest I don’t know what I want with feelings of shame sometimes overwhelming me especially when the introverted me looks back at some of the cringe the extroverted me was guilty of.
Unlike Laing, though, I do find cities soothing - in my case London, although I loved my one visit to New York - because it offers a vast array of options depending on my mood. Actually I’m lucky to have found a vast array of different pubs around the country serving my needs depending on my mood, with a different clientele.
Or maybe, just maybe we’re all a bit introverted. At this time of the year I find myself at odds with the festivities particularly in pubs that have work parties. The jollity seems to be hermetically sealed from me and potentially invading a space I consider to be sacred, while encroaching on my decision making on whether I am going to be introverted or extroverted.
But, of course, that’s my problem to deal with and just because I never really felt at ease at these type parties doesn’t mean for many it’s a wonderful escape before the routines of their family holidays.
Whatever the case, Christmas can be the most lonely time of the year because of the huge weight of expectations and if you’re struggling do reach out. Speak to someone in a pub. Speak to a friend. Or failing that, send me an email.
Introverted or extroverted I’ve always got time for people who need to talk.
Beer of the Week
I’m not the biggest fan of taprooms as they often are quite sparse and offer none of the social cohesion that pubs do on the quiet. There are, of course, exceptions including south London’s Gipsy Hill, Manchester’s Track and Siren’s in Berkshire, which also has the advantage of being near Elusive’s taproom where you can drink great beers and play retro games.
Siren’s taproom feels very much like a pub with a stream of locals but because the beer is centre to everything the conversation can be easily entered into. I visited recently for a book event and found the people welcoming and highly knowledgeable about the large offering. (Top tip: Siren Lumina is by far the best gluten-free beer around).
Liquid Mistress shows the locals know best as it was brought back after the brewery asked them which brew they would like repeated the most. It’s a Red IPA with a striking copper-like colour with a lot of flavours (particularly malt tones) without being as sweet-tasting as other ‘American’-style IPAs. There’s grapefruit on the nose (the Centennial hops) and a touch of citrus-y lemon (the Amarillo hops) which battle the raison-biscuit-malt profile.
Other work: I wrote this about the history of Absinthe where you can check out the problematic adverts.