What a Day at a Reading Retreat Really Looks Like

People ask me this a lot: but what do you actually… do at a reading retreat?

It's a fair question. "Reading retreat" sounds lovely in theory, but if you've never been on one, it can be hard to picture what a whole day actually looks like. Are there scheduled activities? Is it awkward? Do you have to talk about books the whole time?

The honest answer is: it's quieter, slower, and better than most people expect. And yes, you really do just get to read.

Here's what a typical day at a Busy with Books retreat actually looks like.

Morning: slow on purpose

Nobody sets an alarm (apart from me, the host - I get up early to prep a delicious breakfast spread for you).

This is, for many guests, the first unusual thing. There's no 7 am yoga, no group breakfast at a set time, or schedule pinned to the wall. You wake up when you wake up, and then you do whatever sounds good.

For most people, that means getting a coffee, finding a good spot (window seat, armchair by the fire, a corner of the garden if the weather cooperates, or simply in bed), and opening a book before the day has properly started.

Breakfast is out when you're ready for it. The first hour or two of a retreat morning is genuinely one of my favourite things I've created — there's something about a group of people all quietly reading in the same space, comfortable enough not to fill the silence, that feels almost rare. Like everyone has silently agreed to be somewhere nice together.

Mid-morning: the reading really begins

By mid-morning, people have usually found their rhythm.

Some guests read in their rooms. Some migrate to the lounge. Some disappear outside. The point is there's no right answer — you go wherever reading feels best for you, and nobody needs to know where you are.

This is also when the retreat starts doing something a bit sneaky: the restlessness lifts.

Most people arrive carrying the particular kind of low-level anxiety that comes from a life that doesn't usually stop. The first few hours can feel slightly strange — like your brain is waiting for the next thing to do. By mid-morning on day one, most guests have turned a corner. The phone is somewhere else. The to-do list has stopped feeling urgent. The plot starts to thicken.

A light lunch

Around midday, we get together for a light lunch.

I cook everything from scratch, and the menu leans heavily on the food I grew up eating in South Tyrol — slow, Italian, made with good ingredients and a fair amount of love. That could be fresh pasta, a variety of smaller dishes, a gorgeous salad, and something sweet to finish.

Eating together is when the conversation starts to flow naturally. Nobody is forcing book discussion — but it usually happens. Someone mentions a scene they read this morning. Someone else is reading the same author and has opinions. A recommendation gets made, a title gets written on a napkin.

This is the part guests always mention when they tell me what they loved. Not the books, specifically — the talking about books. The company of people who get it.

Afternoon: the long, golden stretch

The afternoon is sacred.

There are no activities scheduled: we don’t have workshops, guided sessions, or anything else you're expected to attend. It's just a long, uninterrupted stretch of reading time, and it is — genuinely — one of the most luxurious things most guests have experienced in recent memory.

Some people read for the entire afternoon without stopping. Some nap (napping is, I would argue, an elite retreat activity). Some go for a walk. Some read for a while, then sit outside and stare at the view for a bit, then pick the book back up.

By late afternoon, it's not unusual to see guests who arrived saying "I haven't been able to get through a book in months" well into chapter ten of something they thought they'd struggle to start.

Late afternoon: tea, snacks, and gentle re-emerging

Somewhere around 4pm, people start to resurface.

There's always something to eat — something small and Italian and slightly indulgent, because afternoons require snacks. People drift back to the communal spaces for a drink & some pre-dinner food. The conversation picks up again, softer and easier than it would be if everyone hadn't spent the day quietly reading.

This is often when the more personal conversations happen. Something about a long afternoon with a book opens people up a little — they're slower, more present, more willing to just sit and talk. About the books, yes. But also about other things.

Evening: dinner, discussion (optional), and staying up too late

Dinner is the centrepiece of the evening, and I don't rush it.

Long table, good food, great conversations. By this point in the retreat, the group has usually settled into something that feels genuinely warm — the slightly giddy ease of people who've had an unexpectedly good day together.

At dinner, we sometimes do a loose book discussion — an open conversation about what everyone's reading, what's working, what isn't, what they'd recommend. Some of the best book conversations I've ever had have happened here.

After dinner, most guests either decide to sit together in the communal space or retreat to their own rooms for an evening (or late-into-the-night) reading session.

If a day like this sounds like exactly what you need, you can join the waitlist for upcoming Busy with Books retreats. We'll let you know when new retreat dates open — usually before they're announced anywhere else.