In "Up All Night: A History of Going Out," academic and "party historian" Imogen Willetts examines the last 500 years of civilisation through the lens of its after-dark scenes. The book opens by capturing the feeling of a big night out, focusing on what sociologist Émile Durkheim called "collective effervescence" in 1912. Willetts illustrates this with examples ranging from ancient tribal hunting rituals to dancing to Charli xcx's 365 or singing along to Sweet Caroline in a stadium.
A Blend of Scholarship and Pop Culture
This is no dry academic study. Willetts mixes historical research, critical theory, and conversational references to pop culture, creating a bright and compelling read. She argues that the "seemingly superficial act of getting gussied up to drink, dance, have fun and meet people" is much more than that. Nightlife can contain rebellion, community, innovation, art, love, sex, and political revolution. From Japan to France, Shanghai to Germany, and many detours to the United States, she examines historical movements as seen from dusk till dawn.
Correcting the Weimar Berlin Myth
One of the most engrossing chapters offers a corrective to the story of Weimar-era Berlin, which Willetts argues has been fixed in modern memory by the musical Cabaret. She calls this a revisionist and inaccurate portrait, based on tourists' experiences rather than natives'. There was surprisingly little appetite for political satire, though cabaret performances could still be abrasively transgressive. The dancer Anita Berber is a mesmerising figure: Willetts describes her daily ritual of a "breakfast elixir"—a tragic-glamorous concoction of chloroform, ether, and white rose petals. On stage, Berber performed dances called Morphine and Cocaine, and dipped herself in an urn of blood before spinning through the air. This shocked audiences in 1922 and would likely still do so today.
From Disco to the Rat Pack
Key moments like the arrival of disco and the popularity of Studio 54, or the "lifestyle porn" of the Rat Pack in Las Vegas, are covered. Willetts is wary of Studio 54's legend and scathing about the Rat Pack. Famous figures appear—Josephine Baker, Billie Holiday, Edie Sedgwick—but she shows fondness for those mostly lost to history, like New Orleans jazz pioneer Buddy Bolden. Louis Armstrong believed Bolden played so much cornet that his brain was starved of oxygen, driving him mad.
The Cyclical Nature of Nightlife
From the class-defying pleasure gardens of 18th- and 19th-century London to the birth of techno in Detroit, each bright new scene follows a depressingly familiar pattern. New worlds are invented by artists, eccentrics, and visionaries—frequently immigrants and outsiders. There are new sounds, new dances, new ways to seek sex and love. But these glory days are short-lived, extinguished either by crackdowns or by their own popularity. Tourists and gentrifiers move in. Crazes are co-opted by governments, organised crime, or, from the mid-20th century, by corporations and investors.
The Smartphone Slump
Willetts approaches the present day with a sense of impending doom. Having acknowledged that all nightlife is cyclical, she is clear that we are in a slump and certain of its cause. "Smartphones are ruining our nights out," she writes bluntly. The ever-present possibility of surveillance, Gen Z's fear of being seen as "cringe," and the apathy wrought by digital entertainment have all helped put paid to the "roaring 20s" era that was supposed to follow Covid lockdowns. But her epilogue is rousing: "We'll never be able to feel the high of collective effervescence through a screen." After reading this tantalising record of its history, few could resist the urge to strike out in pursuit of it once again.
