Book Club Night Kit

Co Existence

Ethan Mollick

Cozy night

Ethan Mollick writes about living alongside artificial intelligence as a practical, human question rather than a technical one, which makes it unusually easy to talk about over a warm mug. Everyone arrives with a story already, whether they love these tools, dread them, or quietly use them at 11pm.

Soup, Crumble, and the Robots

Come read Ethan Mollick with us and sit with the big questions in the smallest, warmest possible room. Tomato soup, grilled cheese, apple crumble, and absolutely no pressure to have finished the book.

Reading level: Easy

Best for: A club that likes nonfiction they can argue about gently, with snacks, and no homework

Discussion

Warm-up

1.Before we talk about the book at all: what is the smallest, most ordinary thing you have ever asked an AI to help with? The kind of thing you would not admit at a dinner party.
2.Reading this, did you feel more like you were being reassured or being nudged? Settle in and tell us which mug-of-tea feeling you ended the book with.

Digging in

1.Mollick writes about AI as something you work alongside rather than something you simply use. Has anything in your own life ever shifted from a tool into something closer to a companion or collaborator, and how did that feel?
2.Which part of the book made your shoulders drop a little, in a good way? What worry did it quietly take off your plate?
3.And the opposite: was there a passage you had to put the book down after? Not to debate it, just to name the feeling it stirred up.
4.The book is interested in how we hold onto what is human while sharing the work. What is one small human thing you do (handwriting a card, cooking from memory, reading aloud) that you would never hand off, even if you could?

Going deep

1.By the end, the book leaves you somewhere specific emotionally. Without spoiling where it lands, how did your feeling about the next five years of your own work change between the first chapter and the last page?
2.If you could sit Mollick down at this table with a slice of something warm, what would you want to tell him about your own life that his book did not account for?

On the table & to sip

To eat

Slow-cooker tomato soup with a plate of small grilled cheese triangles

The most human comfort there is, made by hand while the machine does the waiting. Set it in the morning and forget it until people arrive.

A big bowl of stovetop popcorn with three little dishes of toppings (parmesan, cinnamon sugar, smoked salt)

Popcorn is the snack of experimenting. Guests mix their own combination, which is a very on-theme kind of tinkering, and it keeps hands busy during the talky parts.

Warm apple crumble with a jug of cream, scooped into mismatched bowls

Analog, imperfect, unmistakably made by a person. It is the dessert equivalent of the book's quiet argument for human presence.

To sip

Honey-cinnamon milk tea, kept warm in a pot on the counter (no alcohol)

Nurturing, uncomplicated, and self-serve so conversation never stops for hosting duties. The default drink of the night.

Hot spiced cider with a splash of bourbon (bottle set beside the pot, optional)

A little indulgent for the people who want it, and the open-pot setup means nobody has to ask.

Mulled red wine with orange peel and clove

Warm, slow, and faintly old-fashioned, a nice counterweight to an evening spent discussing the very new.