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Hanging Out: The Radical Power of Killing Time Hardcover – 26 Jan. 2023
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- Print length224 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherMelville House Publishing
- Publication date26 Jan. 2023
- Dimensions14.58 x 2.41 x 21.72 cm
- ISBN-101685890059
- ISBN-13978-1685890056
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Product description
Review
A Literary Hub Most Anticipated 2023 Read
The Millions Most Anticipated 2023 Read
"The book conceives of hanging out as a way to reclaim time as something other than a raw ingredient to be converted into productivity." --The New York Times
"Hide your phone, stop hustling for a second, and read this passionate argument for the importance of unstructured pre-digital hang." --People Magazine
"Hanging Out is rich with illuminating stories...I passionately believ[ed] that her book was right." --Slate, Dan Kois
"[Hanging Out] is exploring this downstream consequence of isolation, of loneliness, of atomization, which I think is pretty underexplored..." --Ezra Klein
"We could all use more of that blissfully unstructured social time, posits Sheila Liming in the well-considered series of arguments found in Hanging Out." --Reader's Digest
"[Hanging Out] opens with a simple and expansive account of what hanging out is...Liming dedicates much of the book to stories from her past. She has lived an interesting life, and she tells these stories well..." --Washington Post
"Sharp and vivid writing...her [Limings] chapter on parties is so richly drawn. It's a layered exploration of social dynamics and contains some textured literary criticism..." --Bookforum
"More books about hanging out, less about productivity please. Sheila Liming sees the gap in our thinking about time, and the true worth in spending it in an unstructured fashion with members of our community..." --Literary Hub
"[Hanging Out] encourages readers to do more of it in real life...Liming's observational and storytelling skills shine." --Publishers Weekly
"From sharing a cuppa to lazing in the park, is the key to happiness doing everyday activities with pals?... Liming proposes hanging out as a balm that forges connection and meaning." --The Guardian UK
"A thoughtful manifesto...Liming is unsurprisingly the most compelling when she incorporates literary criticism into her treatise." --BookPage
"Tightly argued, brilliantly written...smart yet so accessible, Hanging Out will impress readers with the way each idea builds on the next, never forced and always human." --Shelf Awareness
"Readers will gain a new appreciation for their next get-together after reading this fascinating book and taking the author's well-written words to heart" --Booklist
"[A] meditation on the value of spending idle time with friends, family, and strangers." --Kirkus Reviews
"Informed by her own experiences and anecdotes -- chiefly from moving across the United States during the pandemic -- Liming also brings a rich knowledge of pop culture and intellectual history to persuasive arguments about the importance of spending casual and unproductive time with other people." -- Zoomer Magazine
"Like me, you will thoroughly enjoy hanging out with this book. Jam-packed with eloquent and authentic testimony, it delivers many fresh insights on experiences that we might otherwise take for granted." --Andrew Ross, author of Nice Work If You Can Get It: Life and Labor in Precarious Times
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
I was looking at a field of sunflowers. They were dead—black, desiccated, their honeycombed faces having been pecked or otherwise stripped of their former multitudes of seeds. They looked stranded to me, caught between the season of their flourishing and the next one, the one that would see them all plowed under.
“Nothing gold can stay,” I commented with a quick nudge to my partner, Dave, who was beside me in the passenger seat.
We were on our way to Sherry and Virgil’s house and taking our chances with detours because we had extra time. A strip of dirt road divided the field of dead sunflowers from Old Crossing and Treaty Park, which is a sort of wayside stopping point along the Red Lake River, in eastern Minnesota. Every time we saw Sherry and Virgil, they would tell us to visit the park and read about the oxcarts that, back in the mid-1800s, used to cross there on their four-hundred-plus-mile journeys from Winnipeg to St. Paul. The spot was one of the only of its kind along the river, shallow and wide enough to allow the oxen to get across. This made it an important place in an otherwise unimportant landscape: nearby Red Lake Falls, the town where Sherry and Virgil lived, had recently been named the “worst place to live in America” by a Washington Post reporter who used data, apparently, to justify that ranking.
Dave and I had driven over that morning from our home in Grand Forks, which sits about thirty miles west, right where the Minnesota border cozies up to its neighbor, North Dakota. It was Sherry who had invited us, luring us with promises of late-season produce—squash and potatoes and pumpkins from the fields that she and Virgil tended together on their land, apples from their trees, late-season raspberries that could still be found clinging to their bushes. We had to stop off on the way to pick up a piece of used furniture, an oak cabinet we had bought off of Craigslist. We had it behind us in the back, swaddled in wool blankets that were moth-pocked and no good to us anymore, when we paused at the park and stepped out of the car.
Winter had done its thing already and blanched our surroundings, though it was only October. As we examined the plaques that explained about the oxcarts (and also about the treaty that had forced the Red Lake band of Chippewa to cede the fertile farmlands of Red River Valley to the U.S. government), a few flakes of snow slipped down, let loose from a sky that was as gray as the grass. Across the road, all those charred-looking sunflowers clicked and creaked in the wind.
We didn’t stay long; it was too cold. But it gave us a chance to pause and issue some advanced warning to our hosts.
Dave made the call and it was Virgil who answered. “We’ll be there in about twenty minutes,” he said, explaining the part about the stop in Crookston and the oak cabinet.
“Twenty minutes? Great! I’ll get lunch started.”
I could hear Virgil’s voice loud and clear through the phone. He had a habit of shouting because, now in his seventies, he was getting to be hard of hearing. Virgil and Sherry always had lunch to offer, no matter what time of day it was, and it was always a good lunch: venison stew, baked squash with wild rice, hot raspberries poured over vanilla ice cream for dessert. Their life on the farm always struck me as being one of plenty, no matter what the guy from The Washington Post had to say about it. They had sheep and alpacas and an old donkey, who was partial to being fed carrots and receiving pets on the nose, plus chickens and cats, and dogs running circles around the chickens and cats. Though my partner and I saw them every day in the halls at the university where we worked, we were always happy to haul out to Minnesota on the weekends to hang out with Sherry and Virgil at their home.
“Okay, see you soon,” said Dave, and he was in the process of hanging up when we both heard Virgil’s voice again.
“Hang on—” Dave put the phone back up to his ear.
“What’s that, Virgil?”
“I’m sorry . . . what did you say your name was?”
Virgil had missed the part at the beginning of the call when Dave had identified himself. “It’s Dave . . . as in Dave and Sheila? We work together?”
“Oh, oh, great!” Virgil seemed even more excited now that he knew who it was that he was making lunch for. Dave hung up thephone and we sat there for a second and watched the flakes land and grow runny there on the windshield.
“We could have been strangers off the street and he would still be making us lunch,” Dave said. He shook his head and smiled in charmed disbelief.
Hanging out is about daring to do nothing much and, even more than that, about daring to do it in the company of others. The concept of hanging out covers a broad spectrum of activities—some of them accidental and improvisational, some of them rather structured and planned (as in the kind of hanging out that happens at a formal gathering like a wedding, say). Regardless of the specific occasion, though, or of the amount of planning that has gone into creating it, the objective is the same: it’s about blocking out time and dedicating it to the work of interacting with other people, whoever they might be.
In the case of my old colleague, Virgil, it didn’t matter who we were. Dave was right: we could have been strangers—anybody with access to his phone number—and he would have been just as interested in our story about procuring the oak cabinet and in the prospect of hanging out with us over lunch. But what impressed me most in this instance was how quickly and easily that response took shape in him, like it wasn’t a choice so much as a reflex or a built-in feature. Virgil was down to hang out; what’s more, his inclination and willingness to do so superseded, even, his interest in finding out who it was that he was supposed to be hanging out with. Sherry must have forgotten to tell him that we were coming, or else he forgot that she had told him, and yet the news of receiving unexpected company didn’t appear to bother him in the slightest.
As bemused as I was by Virgil’s enthusiasm, I found my own reaction to it even more perplexing. Why, I wondered, did this not feel normal? Why, and through what means, had my expectations been engineered to prepare me for a different kind of scenario, one in which having strangers show up at your house for lunch might be viewed as an unwelcome incursion, as an inconvenience? Why did hanging out feel so hard at times if, in reality, it could be that easy? What forces prevented it from feeling that way all the time?
The story I’ve been telling about visiting Sherry and Virgil at their home took place several years ago and, since then, a lot has changed. For instance, I don’t live in North Dakota anymore. When I hang out with Sherry and Virgil now, I’m forced to do it via email or video chat or phone, or else through the occasional letter or Christmas card. This is not the same as having lunch with them, in the little, three-room house that they built themselves and installed on the land that Virgil inherited from his parents, around the low table made from a single, crosscut slab of polished wood. It’s not the same, but it is, in its own way, more customary, since it bears resemblance to the methods that govern much of the hanging out I do these days. Digital devices and technologies make that other kind of hanging out easier, but they also strip it of the experiences and particularities of place. What gets lost, along with those particularities, are deeper shades of connection, intimacy, and meaning.
I’m interested in what it means to forge those very things—connection, intimacy, and meaning—in a world that feels increasingly hostile to all three. This is a world, by the way, that started to take shape long before the average person ever learned the word “coronavirus.” Indeed, the conditions of this world have been forming for decades in response to an intricate combination of pressures: the expansion of digital technologies and our increasing reliance on them; the growth of the private sector and accompanying diminishment of the public sphere; policies and social practices that champion individualism and make social connection more difficult; and an ethos of do-it-yourself ruggedness that has taken the place of shared support structures. The coronavirus pandemic made all of these things worse and perhaps more visible to the naked eye, but it did not invent them. We were having a hard time hanging out well before COVID-19 came along and made hanging out hard.
For the past few decades, we humans have been adjusting and varying our approaches to hanging out in light of the growth of technologies that make doing so in person, if not unnecessary, more or less optional. Much of that hanging out has been happening on the internet, even while some of it has continued to take place in person. But COVID tipped the balance, marking the moment that hanging out went from being primarily about in-person activity to being primarily about internet-based activity. Where we once turned to digital devices to supplement whatever we did in person while hanging out, now it’s the reverse: hanging out, for an increasing majority of us, begins with those digital devices and only occasionally occurs without their aid. For some people, especially young people, this was likely already true, back before the pandemic; now, though, it’s a truth that seeps forth with the potency of an oil spill, covering over everything and everyone.
Product details
- Publisher : Melville House Publishing (26 Jan. 2023)
- Language : English
- Hardcover : 224 pages
- ISBN-10 : 1685890059
- ISBN-13 : 978-1685890056
- Dimensions : 14.58 x 2.41 x 21.72 cm
- Best Sellers Rank: 646,089 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- 6,868 in Cultural Studies
- 75,724 in Reference (Books)
- Customer reviews:
About the author

Sheila Liming (b. 1983) was born in Seattle, WA and educated at The College of Wooster (Wooster, OH) and Carnegie Mellon University (Pittsburgh, PA). Her writing and research looks at American literature in the context of American institutions, like libraries and office buildings. She is the author of WHAT A LIBRARY MEANS TO A WOMAN (University of Minnesota Press, 2020) and OFFICE (Bloomsbury, 2020). She teaches at Champlain College in Burlington, VT, where she is Associate Professor in the Professional Writing program.
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Top reviews from United Kingdom
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This non-fiction book broaches the recent problems of people adapting to time without lockdowns and restrictions. It is probably a book that many of us did not consider we would ever need to read, but who does not know someone with some social anxieties that have resulted from time spent at home when you could only go out for essential journeys.
The book looks at many social situations we may encounter ranging from work, to social events to settings such as the internet, which our ancestors may have been horrified to see as a social situations, but still is now a common social environment.
It also covers topics such as when its okay to stop interactions if they have reached that time or how to stand up to forms of interaction that are inappropriate and destructive.
Throughout this well researched and intelligently written book are references from film and literature and this adds to the dimension of the book and you are sure to come away with books or films that you wish to see.
It is a well written and caring book that will benefit any who read it. You may find yourself wanting to explore the great outdoors in company or even look at how you interact online but there is certainly something for everyone.
Its captavitaing and follows a logical sequence and concludes with as much care as it is carefully written with tips in how to move forward and improve your interactions whilst still taking care of yourself.
A recommended and worthwhile book that everyone will get something out of, even if you avoid social interactions in its many forms.
I liked the authors style and it felt like I was having an in-depth chat (albeit one sided) about the topic. The personal anecdotes were really interesting and some were very relatable. There were also quotes and examples from literary figures and other works.
I also liked the nostalgia from life ‘pre-Facebook’ like actually having mail boxes at University and arranging parties with notes.
I know self help books aren’t everyone’s thing but I’m really glad I tried this one. A very thought provoking and timely read which I found really interesting.
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on 2 February 2023
I liked the authors style and it felt like I was having an in-depth chat (albeit one sided) about the topic. The personal anecdotes were really interesting and some were very relatable. There were also quotes and examples from literary figures and other works.
I also liked the nostalgia from life ‘pre-Facebook’ like actually having mail boxes at University and arranging parties with notes.
I know self help books aren’t everyone’s thing but I’m really glad I tried this one. A very thought provoking and timely read which I found really interesting.
In Hanging Out, Sheila Liming explains why hanging out is so powerful. There doesn’t have to be an agenda to ‘hang out’, so it’s casual, easy and there’s no need to feel overwhelmed. Liming combines theory with personal stories to showcase examples of how we hang out in different situations.
These anecdotes are interesting, but feel too much at times. Shorter excerpts, mixed with more theory and others’ insights would have made for a well-rounded analysis, as a lot of the topics needed further explanation. However, I did enjoy the literary quotes and book references (including Mrs Dalloway and – surprisingly – Trainspotting), which gave it a thoughtful slant. Although some of Liming’s stories are amusing, I was expecting more humour from the book, and at times it felt quite dry and even a little dull.
An interesting concept for sure, but perhaps not executed as well as it could have been.
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on 10 March 2023
In Hanging Out, Sheila Liming explains why hanging out is so powerful. There doesn’t have to be an agenda to ‘hang out’, so it’s casual, easy and there’s no need to feel overwhelmed. Liming combines theory with personal stories to showcase examples of how we hang out in different situations.
These anecdotes are interesting, but feel too much at times. Shorter excerpts, mixed with more theory and others’ insights would have made for a well-rounded analysis, as a lot of the topics needed further explanation. However, I did enjoy the literary quotes and book references (including Mrs Dalloway and – surprisingly – Trainspotting), which gave it a thoughtful slant. Although some of Liming’s stories are amusing, I was expecting more humour from the book, and at times it felt quite dry and even a little dull.
An interesting concept for sure, but perhaps not executed as well as it could have been.
With some interesting and personal anecdotes, this is a clever observation on today’s life and how we should take care to stop every now and again and smell the roses.
Top reviews from other countries
the author has certainly made a case for just “hanging out” that I strongly agree with. We are human and loneliness should be avoided! Hang Out!
Also informative are the details about how the focus on work and productivity - socially, and individually - takes away too much of our thinking and our social lives. It results in having to set stronger boundaries, as the author explains. It would be helpful for her to note how that can be done. An example is being in a union whenever possible; her husband is (was?) a non-tenured college professor "without benefits or health care". (The author is a professor as well.) Keeping backup options - such as less-demanding jobs in lower-cost areas - in mind is also helpful. Most people probably do that already, but personal examples from various people could be illuminating.
The explanations regarding "the nervous hypervigilance inspired by isolation" (something I had never heard of before), and the kind of surprising link between isolation and often-resulting narcissism, are interesting.
Presenting different perspectives about hanging out, and how to overcome barriers to isolation, would've made the book more effective and compelling. The author focuses on herself and her experiences most of the time. That's understandable, and her experiences and insights are kind of interesting. However, the chapters tend to go on for too long and become a chore to read after a while. That's especially true of some chapters such as the ones about jamming and "hanging out on TV".
Providing information on the bigger picture would've been a good idea. Data on the overall numbers, such as the millions of Americans facing loneliness and isolation, would've made the book more poignant. Some of these numbers were given in a recent New York Times interview of the author, from a different source: about 60 million Americans ("22 percent of all adults") with no or almost no social contact with others, for example. Some unexpected information also from that NYT article: "Young people now report feeling lonelier than the elderly."
How can you make friends when places of worship - regardless of the type of religion, it seems - are attended mostly by young families with children and by retirement-age people, from what I've seen personally and also heard from others? (Very few attendees in the in-between years of life are consistently present in such places.) How to find people through a site such as meetup.com when that option doesn't seem very good, either - even when both in-person and online options are often available? In bowling meetups, for example, some attendees often focus on their phones rather than interacting each other during their bowling breaks.
As a friend of mine told me recently: "I tried everything (like that - places of worship and in-person meetings and activities for online groups), too" - for some years, still resulting in almost no friends for us besides each other. (We met a few decades ago through employment with a labor union.) As for me, book clubs at two different places of worship - one Jewish, one Christian - have helped somewhat, socially.
The author could address the ways that isolation can be overcome in unexpected and uncommon ways, such as by becoming the sponsor for an immigrant and helping support and babysit her children (as I have done).
The author could write what would be a sequel to this book, using the same themes as she presents in this one, and hopefully keeping in mind the suggestions above.


