PHOTO COURTESY BEYOND BEDTIME BOOKS

Last Friday, I found myself sipping wine in a crowd of dozens of people and tens of thousands of books.

Beyond Bedtime Books, the cozy Dormont bookshop that just celebrated its 15th birthday, hosts occasional “Booze & Books” evenings to turn the process of shopping into a social gathering. Within minutes of opening, the winding pathways through the store were clogged with readers scanning the shelves — or digging through the paperback bins dedicated to smaller volumes of popular mass-market authors. (After all, why would you ever pay full price for a Michael Crichton book, when there are hundreds of thousands of airport-bought copies of his thrillers covering the planet?)

Perhaps owing to the first part of the “Booze & Books” occasion, it was a gregarious crowd. There was no library hush to the store; on the contrary, strangers were chatting with one another about favorite novels and underappreciated titles. As the checkout line snaked its way through the store, people compared their selections and grabbed complimentary cookies and chocolate-covered pretzels from a table by the cash register.

It was, in short, a lovely and almost celebratory event — an exuberant reminder that people are still hungry for (physical) books and cherish the connections made over them.

Here’s the thing, though: In its simplest form, a night like “Booze & Books” is basically an event for the sake of being an event. It is an occasion in the name of occasion-making.

What I mean by that is no slight at all; that particular “Booze & Books” was successful, and I’ll be back. (The evenings are typically held on the last Friday of every month at Beyond Bedtime Books; follow them on Instagram for updates.) Fundamentally, though, the meat of the experience was not much different from simply going to the bookstore. Yes, complimentary wine and cookies were provided; there were also some raffles and a limited quantity of free tote bags.

There was not, however, a grand sale, an author appearance or a musical guest. It was well-adorned business as usual.

Anyone in the business of getting people to show up at a place — retail sales, restaurants, arts venues, anything outside of the house — can tell you that habits have changed since the pandemic. People are more reluctant to leave their cozy dens and mingle with strangers. In the battle between life-affirming activity and somewhat dulling convenience, many people are still frequently opting for convenience: the delivered dinner, the streamed movie, the ordered book.

We all do this, to a degree. (I’m waiting for a Five Guys delivery right now.) But when it becomes a lifestyle, communities suffer. So does mental health.

An event such as “Booze & Books” presents a solution — and the evidence for fighting this trend. Business owners should note that this was no grand disruption or change in approach. Beyond Bedtime Books did what they always do (sell books); they just turned it into an event. Anyone trying to lure people out of the house can and should follow suit; I was only there because my wife asked if we could attend the event. Without the slight extra effort of turning an evening of shopping into a declared gathering, I wouldn’t own a charmingly retro paperback of Daphne Du Marier’s “Rebecca,” and Beyond Bedtime Books would have a bit less revenue this month.

A lot less, judging by the shoulder-to-shoulder crowds.

For my fellow customers and myself, it turned a routine activity into something fun. This wasn’t just buying a book; it was chatting with neighbors, supporting a local business, grabbing a glass of wine and making something of the evening. It became memorable in the way that ordering a book never is, and it will make the reading of those books more meaningful.

Our houses are very cozy. But everywhere else is pretty good, too. I don’t know anyone who goes to a bookstore and wishes they had stayed home and stared at Amazon.

Particularly if there are free cookies involved.