The lobby of the Algonquin offers the type of sedately luxurious parlor we'd all have if we'd chosen our ancestors more carefully--and they'd left us something besides our damned good looks and rapier wit. The grand room features coffered ceilings lit by amber Venetian sconces, dark oak paneling punctuated by Corinthian columns, and old-money furnishings. The comfortable wing-back chairs, red leather settees, reading lamps, folding screens and tea tables form oodles of cozy nooks for conversing, devouring books, sipping cocktails, or plotting the overthrow of a government--in fact or in fiction.  

The centenarian Algonquin is the dowager of America's literary hotels, an unusual breed of establishment which offers both shelter to the transient, and safe haven for lovers of the written word. These inns provide a focus on books, either through their long association with scribes, or their current promotion of literature through readings, signings, and publishing parties. Bibliophiles can usually count on literary hotels to offer a comfortable library, books to peruse for their enjoyment, or even events where guests can meet writers. These inns are places where the contemplative life is celebrated, not shattered by big screen TVs blasting through you like an x-ray machine.

The Vicious Circle
A portrait of the infamous Algonquin Round Table

The Algonquin is, of course, also renowned as the birthplace of the Algonquin Round Table, the 1920s literary set that included Dorothy Parker, Robert Benchley, Alexander Woolcott and Harold Ross, who founded The New Yorker using the stable of talent he lunched with daily at a soon-to-be-legendary round table in the hotel dining room. The regulars would stumble in hung-over each day, joined by a revolving group of peripherals which included everyone from Edmund Wilson to Harpo Marx. In the evening, the young writers would dash off to the theater, and then to a friend's apartment for liberal doses of bathtub gin--since Prohibition relocated the gin from the public house to the private toilet.

Perhaps the Algonquin's long attraction to the literary set, however, is one that continues to this day when authors like Reynolds Price and Studs Terkel come calling: the Algonquin's policy of protecting the privacy of their guests, sheltering the sensitive artist from the overwhelming demands of the city.  

One senior bell captain tells of how William Faulkner used to arrive and swear him to secrecy.  Faulkner hid out at the Algonquin to work on his books, while he was supposed to be in Hollywood writing screenplays.

The Library Hotel--as the name would suggest--is another addition to New York's literary hostelries. Appropriately positioned a block from the New York Public Library, this boutique hotel opened in 2000 and is a booklover's paradise.

Rooms have a tranquil Zen quality and each is furnished with books grouped around a theme. For example, the Love Room offers the titles Aphrodisiac, Kisses, Kama Sutra, and Casanova, making the suite a good spot for brushing up on some of the finer points of amour.  

But what really makes this hotel special are the public rooms where you want to curl up and read throughout your stay--leaving Manhattan to honk and grind itself to a pulp without your participation. Breakfast is served in the Reading Room, a light-filled space lined with over 1,000 books. The fourteenth floor offers two secluded nooks for contemplation: the Writer's Den, a study with leather chairs and fireplace; and the Poetry Garden, a cheerful greenhouse with a private wrap-around terrace.

Not to be outdone, the Left Coast has two equally delicious literary hotels of its own. San Francisco, a city infested by bookworms, sports the Monticello Inn, a small boutique hotel at Union Square. As the name would suggest, the Monticello is decorated as an inn where Thomas Jefferson would feel at home, loaded with overstuffed chintz upholstery, traditional furnishings, and a library with a wood-burning fireplace. Each Wednesday the hotel offers literary events--ranging from writer's salons to author's readings. The salons are attended by a mix of the Bay Area literati and hotel guests. Over a glass of wine, featured speakers discuss everything from self publishing to travel writing.

The Monticello features an innovative Book Honor Bar, a take off on the mini-bar, but you become literate instead of hung-over. Cellophane-wrapped volumes are placed in each room, and if a guest breaks the seal and takes a book home, the item is charged to the bill.

A few blocks away is the Hotel Rex, which offers an Art Deco lobby that's reminiscent of a 1930's men's club.   The dimly-lit room offers an intimate ambiance, with original portraits, period library tables, antiquarian books and leather club chairs--a place where Dashiell Hammett would look at home sipping a martini. Cocktails are available from the sleek chrome and glass bar, which reflects liquor bottles and vintage globes. The Rex has been the scene of many publishing parties, from signings to book launches, and is a preferred lodging site for visiting authors.

The trait all these hotels share is offering bibliophiles the chance to be surrounded by the objects they love--even when they're away from home. And in today's current frantic society, perhaps the chance to actually stretch out and read a good book--in a strange city where no one knows how to find you.

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For more information visit the hotels' Web sites:

The Algonquin
The Library Hotel 
The Monticello Inn 
The Hotel Rex