Falling in Love with Books Again: An Afternoon with Kaia Gerber, Alyssa Reeder and Jonah Freud

By Rebeca Riofrio

I have spent much of my life searching for treasures.

Sometimes they are people. Sometimes they are places. Occasionally they are ideas. On a quiet Sunday afternoon in London, I found all three gathered in one room.

The invitation was simple enough: a conversation between Vanity Fair and New York Times contributor Alyssa Reeder, American model and actress Kaia Gerber, and Jonah Freud. It was being held at Reference Point, a beautiful literary space tucked beside Soho House City on the Strand.

Of course, many people would have hurried across London simply out of curiosity. After all, when Cindy Crawford's daughter and Sigmund Freud's grandson are discussing literature, it is difficult not to be intrigued.

Yet what I discovered was far more meaningful than celebrity lineage.

What I found was a group of young people genuinely passionate about books.

In an era where the phrase "attention span" often feels like an endangered species, that alone felt quietly revolutionary.

The gathering celebrated Issue 001 of Library Science, a literary project founded by Kaia Gerber and Alyssa Reeder and officially launched in 2024. Their mission is refreshingly straightforward: to encourage people to read.

Not necessarily the books dominating bestseller lists. Not necessarily the titles receiving the largest marketing budgets. Instead, they champion debut authors, overlooked voices, translations, essays, poetry, plays and stories that might otherwise pass unnoticed.

Their philosophy is beautifully captured in a single sentence:

"We learn the most from the stories that aren't our own."

Simple. Honest. True.

Listening to the conversation unfold, I found myself increasingly impressed. There was no pretence of academic superiority. No attempt to intellectualise reading into something inaccessible.

Instead, there was enthusiasm.

They discussed favourite books, unusual titles, literary discoveries, personal passions, recommendations and the stories that had shaped them. They laughed, disagreed, reflected and exchanged ideas with the ease that only comes from genuine friendship.

The three have known one another since their teenage years, more than a decade ago. Watching them together was perhaps as interesting as the books themselves. There was a natural rhythm to the conversation, the kind that develops when friendship survives adolescence and evolves into adulthood.

In a world increasingly obsessed with instant results and fleeting digital connections, it was heartening to witness a friendship that had matured into something meaningful and creative.

And perhaps that is precisely what made the afternoon so memorable.

The timing could not be more important.

Britain is currently facing what many experts describe as a literacy crisis.

Research from the National Literacy Trust shows that only around one-third of children aged eight to eighteen now say they enjoy reading in their free time — the lowest levels recorded since measurements began in 2005. Fewer than one in five read daily for pleasure.

Among adults, the situation is equally concerning. Around one in six people in the United Kingdom are considered functionally illiterate, meaning they struggle with reading unfamiliar texts and everyday written information. Millions consume words every day through social media feeds, captions, headlines and subtitles, yet nearly half do not consider themselves readers.

The consequences extend far beyond literature.

Poor literacy limits educational achievement, employment opportunities, social mobility and even health outcomes. Experts repeatedly warn that declining reading habits are creating inequalities that will echo for generations.

The culprit is hardly mysterious.

We live in a world where thirty seconds is often considered a long commitment. Swipe. Scroll. Refresh. Repeat.

The digital economy has transformed attention into currency.

Against that backdrop, encouraging young people to sit quietly with a book may seem almost radical.

Which is why projects like Library Science matter.

Young people often listen to other young people long before they listen to institutions. Influence can be superficial, but it can also be profoundly constructive. Seeing figures such as Kaia Gerber and Alyssa Reeder use their platforms to celebrate literature rather than consumption feels both refreshing and necessary.

As I listened, my thoughts drifted back nearly thirty-two years.

I was eighteen years old and newly arrived in London.

Someone asked whether I could help an elderly American writer who was losing her sight. She needed somebody to read aloud in Spanish, assist around the house and help her navigate a world that was becoming increasingly difficult to see.

Her name was Martha Gellhorn.

The legendary war correspondent. The remarkable writer. The third wife of Ernest Hemingway.

For four extraordinary years I worked beside her.

I would read to her, listen to her stories and watch her continue to create despite the challenges she faced. She became far more than an employer. She became a mentor, a guide and, in many ways, a second mother.

It was through Martha that I truly fell in love with books.

Not simply as objects.

But as vessels carrying lives, ideas, histories and experiences that would otherwise remain unknown to us.

That afternoon at Reference Point, listening to three young literary enthusiasts speak with such sincerity, I felt unexpectedly emotional.

Perhaps because I recognised the same spark.

The same curiosity.

The same belief that stories matter.

The room itself reflected that spirit. The event was intimate rather than grand. Among those present was singer and author Lily Allen, supporting her partner Jonah Freud. Also in attendance was actor Lewis Pullman, quietly supporting Kaia Gerber. There was something undeniably touching about watching him listen attentively, his admiration visible in the small gestures that often reveal more than words.

Support, after all, comes in many forms.

Sometimes it is applause.

Sometimes it is simply showing up.

After the discussion, I had the pleasure of meeting Kaia, Alyssa and Jonah. All three were gracious, warm and remarkably genuine. The conversation felt less like an industry event and more like an invitation into a community built around curiosity.

And perhaps that is exactly what literature has always done.

It creates communities between strangers.

It allows us to enter lives we will never live and understand experiences we may never encounter.

At fifty years old, I find myself increasingly aware of how precious that is.

Books taught me about places I had never seen, people I had never met and emotions I had never experienced. They expanded my world long before I could travel through it myself.

That is why seeing young people fall in love with literature remains one of the most hopeful sights imaginable.

Because while technology will continue to evolve, algorithms will continue to compete for our attention and screens will continue to dominate our lives, stories remain one of humanity's greatest inventions.

And perhaps Alyssa Reeder, Kaia Gerber and Jonah Freud have understood something very important.

The future of reading may not depend on institutions.

It may depend on making books feel human again.

On Sunday afternoon in London, they did exactly that.

For a few hours, they reminded everyone in the room that there are still treasures to be found between the pages of a book.

Thank you, Alex, for the Invitation.