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"A love letter to solitude—with just enough sass to keep you from crying into your solo pasta."
Emma Gannon’s Table for One is like that friend who finally convinces you that dining alone isn't sad—it’s powerful. It's insightful, warm, and witty in all the right places, like if Brené Brown and Fleabag co-wrote a guide to loving your own company.
Reading it felt like permission to say, "No, I don't have plans—I'm making them with myself," and suddenly that solo brunch didn’t feel like a social failure but a quiet victory. Gannon makes solitude feel sexy, not sad. Like, “I’ve lit a candle, put on a face mask, and I’m watching my weird indie movie on purpose.”
Why 4 stars and not 5? Well, because occasionally it felt like my inner introvert was being lectured by someone slightly too enthusiastic about oat milk and journaling. There were a few moments where I thought, “Okay, yes, Emma, I get it—I’m amazing alone. Can I still text my ex or…?”
Still, if you’ve ever felt weird about going to a restaurant alone, or you’ve spent one too many nights apologizing for choosing peace over parties, this book is the cozy, confident hug you didn’t know you needed. Just maybe read it with a glass of wine and your phone on do not disturb. You deserve it.