"You need to get out more."
We've all heard it, whether in fiction or in IRL. Sometimes it's tossed off in an all-in-good-fun spirit ("What, you've never been to the Cheesecake Factory?! You need to get out more!"). Other times it's snarkier ("How do you not know who Jim Parsons is? You need to get out more." Insert eyeroll; bonus points if it's lazy.). But there's no mistaking that it's never a term of endearment. That's because the speaker (we'll call him "the extrovert") deems himself worldlier and worthier than the speakee (that would be "the introvert") and therefore justified in dispensing his glib, disingenuously cruel-to-be-kind advice. But I've always been of the opinion that it's not getting out more that grows a more knowledgeable, interesting, and ultimately more empathetic human. It's staying in.
So you can imagine my delight upon finding Hallie Heald's 41 Reasons I'm Staying In: A Celebration of Introverts. If ever there was a book that countered the aforementioned life-of-the-party propaganda -- or, indeed, that was designed for the new normal shelter-in-place lifestyle of the COVID pandemic -- then it's this one. Dedicated to "all the introverts I've met and may never meet," Heald's strange and fanciful picture book challenges the inherent shame of the home-alone-on-a-Saturday-night stereotype, elevating solitude to an art form. Her forty-one for-one activities range from the hilariously selfless "midwifing for my gerbil" to the self-indulgently creative "designing my Halloween costume" to the downright dark "making voodoo dolls of my exes." Each pursuit illustrates (both literally and figuratively; the pictures are a hoot) that it doesn't matter what you do in hermit mode as long as it makes you feel like you, a commodity that's all too elusive when in a crowded club or conference room. All of us feel like this some of the time, and some of us feel like this all of the time. And I for one am a homebody who firmly falls into camp number two.
And that's why it's so great that 41 Reasons I'm Staying In applauds those of us who prefer our own company. Because sometimes being alone isn't about being on the outside looking in. Sometimes it's about being on the inside looking out. Not in envy, but in the kind of comfort that can only come from being where you know you belong.
You know. In your favorite chair knitting a tracksuit, singing to a sourdough starter, or curating a cicada circus while The Big Bang Theory hums in the background.
Game, set, and match, lazy eye.