Prompt 270. An Ode to the Humble Question

Ritual designer Ezra Bookman on how to ask better ones

A still from American Symphony (courtesy of Netflix)

Hi friend,

I just got back from another week of travel, this time to London. Jon and I flew over to attend some screenings of American Symphony—which will be available on Netflix starting November 29!—and to participate in a press junket. I was terrified, partly that I wouldn’t have the energy to get through it all, partly because of the term “press junket”—I’ve never done anything like that in my life.

Fortunately I was buoyed energetically by a visit from my dad, and my energy held out. But the junket itself was pretty surreal. We were led down a corridor filled with journalists into a quiet room, where over the next few hours, they entered one at a time for a five-minute interview. What came to mind was that scene from the rom-com Notting Hill, where after sharing a kiss with the mega film star Anna Scott (played by Julia Roberts), the bumbling owner of a failing bookshop named Will (Hugh Grant) ends up at her press event. Confused, he claims to be a journalist with the magazine Horse & Hound. He’s then led into a fancy hotel room for an interview. As her PR guy comes in and out, Will improvises the first of several questions. “The film’s great,” he begins haltingly. “I was just wondering whether you ever thought of having more horses in it?”

The PR guy clears his throat, and Anna Scott takes a deep breath, then replies, “Well, we would have liked to. But it was difficult, obviously—being set in space.” 

“Space, right yea,” he stammers. “Obviously, very difficult.” He moves on to the next question: “Any horses in your next film? Or hounds for that matter? Our readers are interested in both species equally." Turns out no—since it would be set on a submarine.

Nothing that absurd happened, though the rapid succession of interviews did feel a little like speed dating. But in meeting with so many journalists in such quick succession, I began to see there were stark differences between—well, not bad and good questions, but routine questions and really thoughtful ones. We heard the same ones time and again: How did the film come about? Was it hard to share so vulnerably? What are you doing next?

But one young man in particular disarmed us with his thoughtful presence and questioning. Before asking anything, he said, “I love the elephant bar”—a reference to a whimsical piece of furniture in our living room—then pulled out a gift: a heavy mug with a handle in the shape of an elephant trunk. Most people were in a rush to get in as many questions as possible in those five-minute slots, but he wasn’t. Rather than launching in, he shared that he had just lost one of his best friends to cancer the week before. That willingness to share his grief changed the whole dynamic: we suddenly felt connected. He then went on to ask very personal, thoughtful questions—the kind that twist you out of your normal speech patterns, that provoke you to tell different stories than your well-worn anecdotes.

I have thought a lot about how questions shape our personal interactions. Years ago, I went to a dinner party where I first met the relationship therapist, Esther Perel. There were eight of us, and many did not know each other. What often happens with a gathering that size is that people split off into pairs or trios, so that rather than having a unified discussion, it’s fractured. But expert that she is, Esther immediately took command of the table by asking everyone: “What’s on your unofficial résumé?”

In a career-driven city like New York, the first question is often, “What do you do?” The intended effect of this question and others like it—think “Where are you from?” or “Do you have kids?”—is to bring us closer. But in trying to ascertain the facts of someone’s life, you don’t always get to the heart of what really matters to them and why. So I loved this idea of turning this common small-talk query on its head.

Esther said that the first item on her unofficial C.V. was that when she was younger, she played the guitar and was a street busker, which is such a bohemian image, such a contrast to the polished public figure she is today. I shared that I had three passports, then talked about the idea of home and how that has evolved for me. In the end, Esther’s question wrenched us out of our normal chit-chat ruts and created a sense of intimacy. And more than that, it taught us to converse and to listen as a group.

Here in the States, we’re a few days out from Thanksgiving—a much beloved but also somewhat beleaguered holiday. Such get-togethers can be stressful and pressurized; often there’s an assumed intimacy but no thoughtful way to ensure it. So with that in mind, today we have a poignant essay and prompt from the ritual designer Ezra Bookman about the questions we ask around the table. Whether or not you’re celebrating this week, I hope it gives you the tools to make the most of your next gathering.

Sending love, 

Suleika

Some Items of Note—

• We’re meeting at the Hatch, our virtual creative hour for paid subscribers, today—that’s November 19, from 1-2 pm ET. Find everything you need to join us here!

• Need a mood boost? Every Friday, we send up our small joys in a chorus of collective gratitude. This week it was full of light, quite literally—with the sun rising through feathery grasses, splaying itself across a couple of internationally traveling lemons, and falling in a series of flaming November sunsets. You can add yours here!

Pierre Bonnard, The White Tablecloth (1925)

Prompt 270. An Ode to the Humble Question by Ezra Bookman

We had barely made it ten minutes before the first awkward silence. 

In my defense, I really shouldn’t have been there. It was a fancy fundraising dinner for big donors to an arts organization, and I am neither fancy nor a donor, just a lover of dinner who happened to be the friend of a friend of a donor who canceled last minute.

After a round of pleasantries about the salad, the conversation at our table stumbled into the habitual, “What do you do?” The man across from me answered, “Wealth manager,” and my mind went blank. I have no wealth, certainly not enough to be managed, so I squeaked out an unconvincing, “Oh, interesting,” followed by a long, uncomfortable pause.

But before the silence could ruin everyone’s night, my friend slid in with a fantastic question: “What do most people get wrong about you and your job?” An hour later and the lively conversation it sparked was still going.

A question is more than just a way to fill silence. It is the recognition that every person is infinite, that even your closest loved ones are never fully knowable. Questions are the clothes of curiosity and smoke signals for empathy. A good question is our humble response to the impossible mystery of another human being.

As a professional ritual designer, I think about this every Thanksgiving. Most people tell me the reason they celebrate Thanksgiving is for the opportunity to spend quality time with friends and family. But I think the language we use here is telling; to “spend time” is to treat it like a transaction. We spend time together on Thanksgiving like we spend money on Black Friday: compulsively and without intention. We work so hard to craft the space—menu planning, cooking, decorating—but then barely consider what happens inside that space.

How might we not just spend time, but savor time? How might we transform Thanksgiving from “a dinner party with turkey” to a meaningful ritual—a space where we get to feel, in the words of Émile Durkheim, “collective effervescence”?

My answer: a good question. That’s why for the last two years, I’ve shared seven better questions than “What are you grateful for?” to ask at Thanksgiving—questions like “Where have you felt most alive this past year?” and “What’s a moment of kindness from the past year that really meant something to you?”

I’ve heard stories from around the country of people using them in all sorts of creative ways, but the response has always been the same: “That was the most meaningful and memorable Thanksgiving of my life.”

At my own table, my little cousin had the idea of writing the questions on cards and putting them randomly under each plate. We went around one by one, trusting that we received exactly the question we were meant to answer—a kind of question tarot.

And something pretty magical happened. Usually my grandmother stays quiet at Thanksgiving; loud crosstalk at a big table is a nightmare for her hearing aids. But this time, not only could she hear the conversation but she could actually participate. She was the life of the party, cracking jokes, sharing vulnerably, and shedding a tear. Us too.

That night, I learned something new about someone I thought I knew entirely. And for that, I’m truly grateful.

Your prompt for the week: 

Rather than answer a question, I’d like you to ask some this week. Compose seven questions for deepening connection and learning something new about the people you love around the dinner table (turkey optional).

If you’d like, you can post your response to today’s prompt in the comments section, in our Facebook group, or on Instagram by tagging @theisolationjournals. As a reminder, we love seeing your work inspired by the Isolation Journals, but to preserve this as a community space, we request no promotion of outside projects.

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Today’s Contributor—

Ezra Bookman is a nationally recognized ritual designer, artist, and facilitator, with work featured in the New York Times, The Atlantic, VICE, and ABC News. He is the founder of Ritualist, the first ever creative studio specializing in the design of rituals. You can find his seven better questions to ask at Thanksgiving here and here.

For more paid subscriber benefits, see—

• Hoarding, Grief, & Asking for What You Need, an installment of my advice column Dear Susu, where I tackle a question from a reader whose husband’s hoarding has reached its ultimate expression and who is desperate for change

• On Finely Wrought Characters, a video replay of my Studio Visit with the novelist and memoirist Stephanie Danler, where we talked about character development in fiction versus nonfiction, using notebooks and notecards as a creative tool, and the challenges of writing about ex-loves

• 25 Things About Me, where I reprised an old viral Facebook quiz that seems so simple on its face but leads to a laid-bare snapshot of a human life—honest, strange, and beautiful

It’s almost here!

Our documentary American Symphony is debuting in select theaters on November 24, then worldwide on Netflix on November 29. To learn more, see the trailer below!