How to Throw the Best Birthday Party Ever

I really mean it.

Yesterday was my 45th birthday, and I threw myself the best birthday party I’ve had since my 10th, maybe, which was a lip synch contest that I lost. (It was still a great party—my static, frozen-in-place, eyes-closed rendition of “Please Don’t Go Girl” aside.) I’ve had some birthday parties since—a few fried chicken parties (fried chicken is always a good idea at a party); one disastrous surprise party (my 25th) where Mike and I got too drunk beforehand and by the time we got home, I was too tired and just wanted everyone to leave; one party a few days before we opened the bookstore, when I turned 37. After a truly depressing COVID 40th, I decided it was high time for a real party.

A few months ago, my friend Julie turned 50. At the party, she had hand-written little cards about every guest, and she engineered a sort of matching game where you had to find a person you didn’t know, and give them their little love note. It was so thoughtful. It made 1) every single person at the party feel like Julie really cared about them and wanted them there and 2) forced you to meet at least two new people. Clever Julie! And so I got to thinking—what could I do that would feel meaningful and fun?

Here’s what I came up with: I asked everyone to bring me a book, inscribed to me. It didn’t matter if they thought I’d read and loved it, or if they even thought I’d like it! In turn, I picked out a few books—my friend Tamara Shopsin’s excellent memoir about growing up in her parents’ restaurant, Arbitrary Stupid Goal, Nora Ephron’s perfect novel Heartburn, and my fave book of poems, Frank O’Hara’s pocket-sized Lunch Poems—and put those out with a sign that people should pick one and take it home. A book for a book! I made pencils, too, because I couldn’t help myself. (They were pink and said Emma is 45 and loves you and I gave them all away.)

Adorable Tamara, author of books, drawer of illustrations, maker of pancakes. (photo by me.)

The prezzies piled up, each more beautiful than the last. Some people came in guns blazing, so excited to tell me what they picked, and why. Also, not for nothing, a few of my friends are really good at wrapping presents.

I mean, come on. Crushed velvet ribbon??? My friend Keri gets extra points for the giant peony, too.

My friend Ambriel also does not mess around. Beautiful textiles AND custom beads?? Come on! Who even cares what’s inside it?! I’m already swooning.

Anyway, if you’re here, it’s because you want to know what books people gave me, and why I swear this is the greatest idea ever. Can I show you my amazing haul???

My friend Ben gave me The Brothers K, which I have been meaning to read for twenty years. Even better, the copy has a movie ticket tucked in it, clearly a makeshift bookmark from something he went to see in 2004, which makes me feel like I’m also making friends with him from 20 years ago, long before we met. Time travel! My friend Julia gave me Bliss Montage, by Ling Ma, who I haven’t read, despite the zillions of copies of Severance we’ve sold. My friend Angela gave me Jamaica Kincaid’s The Autobiography of My Mother, a classic that I’ve never read! That was something wonderful—I’d only read a handful of these books! A tiny number! Which just goes to show you how many great books exist in the world. Meg, one of my very favorite novelists on earth, gave me a copy of Cold Comfort Farm, a books I have read and loved, but this one is from HER, which makes it priceless. Speaking of priceless, my friend Pete gave me a book called Ninja Mind Control. My agent, Claudia, gave me a beautiful copy of Lorrie Moore’s Who Will Run the Frog Hospital?, one of my favorites of all time. My friend Danielle gave me Nothin But a Good Time, about 80s hair metal bands, which is obviously going to bring me, well, nothing but a good time. My friend Kara gave me a copy of a cookbook by Myra Kornfeld, with some recipes marked. How lovely is that?? Not just, here is a cookbook, but this one, right here, on this page—make this, because I love it.

My friend Adam gave me Thirteen Ways to Smell a Tree, which makes sense, because he’s the kind of guy who smells trees. My friend Morena gave me a beautiful little edition of Gatsby, because who can have enough Gatsby??? Literally no one. My friend Melodia gave me some Bret Easton Ellis, which makes perfect sense to me because I still think of her as a wild high schooler, despite her very adult current self. My friend Tamara gave me a book to keep in the bathroom, which came with explicit instructions to actually keep it in the bathroom. My friend Richie and Jordan gave me Dancer from the Dance, with a note that said Larry Kramer thinks that Holleran is the gay Hemingway. My friend Stefan gave me Miao, which is a book written by an Italian cat, and in which the only word is miao, over and over and over again. My friend Maris gave me the Lockwood, and my friend Ambriel (she of the excellent wrapping) gave me the Seuss, two poets I LOVE.

My friend Keri gave me American Wolf, which is exactly the kind of non-fiction I love. My friend Katherine gave me RuPaul’s memoir, which I’m sure is a trip. My friend Helen gave me a book about fear, and told me that 45 is the best age. My friend Mark gave me The Buddha and the Sahibs and told me that he routinely scours Ebay for copies. Olivia, my oldest friend in the world, gave me some Pema, which is perfect, because not only do I love Pema C, my number one nun (maybe tied with Sister Corita Kent), but she also used to call me Pemma when we were little. My friend Gina gave me Love, Nina and then described it to me so passionately that I know I’ll love it too. My friend Amanda gave me Shadow of the Wind, another book that I’ve sold about a trillion copies of but have never read. My friend Rumaan gave me the Susie Boyt, which everyone LOVED last year, and I’ve been meaning to buy. My friend Doris gave me an Alice Waters picture book, because she too is an artist and a chef and a mom and a genius.

My friend Colleen, a PhD student of civil rights, gave me three of her major touchstones—Freedom’s Dominion, A Nation Under Our Feet, and Sweet Land of Liberty. It’s more important than ever to understand the deeply fucked up history of this country, and I’m so grateful to have these books at my fingertips. Some other friends gave me enormous chunkers—my friend Dasha gave me a gorgeous Raymond Chandler Omnibus, and my friends Priya and Anand gave me A Pattern Language, which they sold to me so efficiently that I think they are both secretly booksellers. My friend Hetty, who writes my favorite cookbooks, gave me her favorite cookbook, Nigella Lawson’s How to Eat.

Meg’s son Charlie used to work for us at the bookstore, and he and his girlfriend Miranda gave me a copy of The Last Girl. My friend Jess gave me a copy of Endurance, and her husband, my friend Ben, gave me Film Business by Lillian Ross. My friend Andrea gave me Danielle Evans’ Office of Historical Corrections, which I read and loved. There were picture books, too! Hallelujah! The very best books of all! My friend Sophie gave me this William Steig, with the most perfect genius title of all time. My friend Rachel gave me Lore Segal’s Tell Me a Mitzi, not the last Lore Segal on this list! My friend Sara gave me Little Lori, which somehow I didn't already own.

My friend Priyanka came all the way from LA and therefore wins a prize, which is my love and affection. (Photo credit: Anand)

Mikey did a great job making sure the party was a success. (Photo credit: Sara.)

Me, babbling. (Photo credit: Stefan.)

I have no idea what I said. Mike and Priyanka and Gina made little toasts and it was so lovely that I blacked out. I highly encourage all of you to steal this idea. Going through the books this morning and reading all the notes made me feel so (earnest! feeling! ahead!) truly loved and appreciated. Some folks at the party were old friends, but a lot were new friends, and I’m here to remind you that it’s never too late—you’re never too old—to make meaningful connections with people. Oh and also you should always have more than one cake. I recommend three.

And then, this morning, one last book came in the mail, from my sister Ann Patchett. Her First American, by Lore Segal. A 1985 novel I’ve never heard of that Ann thinks is wonderful? What could be better than that, I ask you? Nothing. Now, off to start reading.