Organising a reading retreat begins with a great pick for accommodation. Photo / Madeleine Crutchley
Organising a reading retreat begins with a great pick for accommodation. Photo / Madeleine Crutchley
Craving a holiday with a slower pace? One trending trip style may be perfect for you, writes Madeleine Crutchley.
A sunny little library sits on the water’s edge.
It’s a cosy box, painted yellow, that opens three days a week, welcoming in Ngunguru locals and visitors alike. The collection housesbooks, audio-visual materials as well as photographs and local public records. The window’s gaze captures the rumbling tides as they roll in and out.
My friend and I stumbled upon the library after a slow walk down the estuary, before rounding onto the river. It was a sweet, serendipitous surprise, the library a sign welcoming is to our self-hosted reading retreat.
If it had been open, we would have kicked ourselves: the leisurely drive from Tāmaki Makaurau to the northward coast was certainly slowed by the sheer weight of the stories sitting in our backseat.
My book club was visiting Ngunguru for a reading retreat. They were quickly wrangled a few weekends ahead, propelled by their pages and the promise of a clear schedule.
Reading retreats are a mode of holidaying that Expedia and Bookabach are betting on for next year, drawing on increases in book-themed travel within search traffic. In the companies’ Unpack ‘26 report, released on October 16, ‘readaways’ are described as the “next big chapter” in travel – think quiet spots where the bookish gather for communal reading, relaxing and reviewing together. Locally, there is demand: the launch of managed retreats by Busy With Books has seen readers head to Martinborough for some quiet time.
Reading, of course, is a pivotal piece in the imagining of a holiday. The ‘beach read’ and its contested definitions are an enduring source of adoration and angst. Media have longwritten recommendations especially for the time of year when many take their biggest break.
But perhaps, in the age of celebrities adorning books in self-aware paparazzi shots and hyper-mediated airport security trays, there is appeal in bookish connotations.
The view from the deck in Ngunguru. Photo / Madeleine Crutchley
It certainly felt different, devoting a full weekend to taking in stories. The pace was much slower than any other break I had taken in recent memory, as we each focused on time nestled in chairs and gathered around a dining table with books on the brain.
We gathered over releases new and old: borrowed words from Ocean Vuong, Sarah Wynn-Williams, Carmen Maria Machado, Patricia Grace, K-Ming Chang and Alice Te Punga Somerville, fuelled conversations for the days.
How to organise a reading retreat
Book somewhere with plenty of places to read
In Ngunguru, we congregated in a house on the hill. The deck overlooked the river that rose and fell slowly over the weekend. The lounge was full of comfy couches and chairs, arranged to face each other, where we sat to read, share short passages and chat. There was also a generous dining table where we indulged in big meals.
A television was tucked away at the back of the house, along with table tennis and darts (for the moments we needed a run around). The beds became cocoons for slow mornings. The house made clear what I would prioritise in future: comfortable living spaces, a captivating view and generous kitchen and dining spaces.
The view from the main bedroom. Photo / Madeleine Crutchley
Select a range of books
While I was tempted to lug the epics away with me (a chance to finally finish The Luminaries!), I tried to create some variety in my reading list. Cadence Chung’s poetry book Mad Diva and Patricia Grace’s Electric City short stories balanced the sprawl of Zadie Smith’s The Fraud.
In future, I might also consider selecting a shared story – giving us something to mull over together and discuss over dinner; the definition of organised fun.
My book club is a relatively informal affair. Gatherings involve talking about what we’ve been reading, eating together and occasionally bringing a book related to a theme. For our getaway, we maintained this looseness but added a little structure so we knew what to expect and how the time would look.
Knowing we would eventually be headed out for a walk or drive certainly made us more keenly focused on getting through a chapter.
Pull out the candles for a cosy evening. Photo / Madeleine Crutchley
Plan to do more than just read
We spent so much of our time tucked away inside, so we found it a necessity to create some rhythm to our days. We listened through albums, cooked big meals and gathered in brief moments to make coffee and tea.
We were well stocked for those snacks, many sourced from locally-owned companies (a nice way to indulge in the produce of an area if you’re not planning on going out). Think Bennetts Chocolate and Kerikeri Organic Tea.
We also picked up other activities that mimicked the pace of reading – sketching, taking photos and playing cards.
A holiday so attentive to storytelling also encouraged us to learn more about our location – upon return, I began to covet a copy of Rangatira by Paula Morris (Ngāti Wai, Ngāti Whātua, Ngāti Manuhiri) for which the pā became an influence.
Take breaks to enjoy the surrounds
We did take breaks from turning pages, of course. The surrounding bays of Ngunguru (and a stack of kayaks by the garden shed) demanded it. So, we jumped in a tin can car and headed northwards.
A walk down Marina Rd delighted with artificial colour absent from much of the coast. In Matapōuri, gusts whipped bare legs with sand, so we snuck across the estuary at low tide. In early spring, the beach walks were beautiful but bracing (seek comfort in the slow encroach of summer’s season).
We got as far north as Sandy Bay before retreating. There was a mandatory stop at the fish and chip shop and the next-door dairy. The algorithm’s influence endured after days largely screen-free: we bought ‘viral’ fruit-shaped ice creams for our shared IRL afternoon treat.
Photo / Madeleine Crutchley
One last stroll: further down the river, DOC’s fluorescent orange arrows showed Te Araroa walkers the right path. They led down to a small jetty and point, steadfast, across the river. Of course, you’d take a boat to cross, but the small sign seemed to dare us for a swim.