KGB Bar is a small, stubborn, simple room that does its part to keep the city’s guttering literary flame alight. On most nights, there’s a reading—poets, novelists, editors, students, old lions. Hang around long enough and you’re likely to rub elbows with someone whose work you admire. And the big names aren’t slumming it here—in a sense, it’s as much a bar as a literary laboratory.
One flight up and off the street, KGB is hard to stumble upon by accident. The decor is pseudo-communist themed: peeling red paint and propaganda poster art, the odd portrait and relic. It’s grubby in the right way; writers do love the trappings of struggle and strife. There are some small tables and a short bar and that’s about it. Close quarters mean that if you, say, pull out your phone in the middle of a reading, every single person in the room will be distracted. Do not do this.
Drinks are basic—beers, liquor, and some wine. You get the idea. The bartenders keep it moving. It’s not a mixology showcase and care about that in the slightest. Booze is there to lubricate the social aspect of an inherently solitary pursuit. Hours are long (daily roughly 7pm–4am), and when the downstairs feels too packed, the Red Room upstairs hosts its own slate of cabaret and literary programming under a Deco glow. At one time, the bar offered Russian-branded liquor but the place (like the neighborhood) was actually home to Ukrainian expats. To be clear, the place isn’t inhospitable on cultural/ethnic grounds, but recent world events have tilted the attitude generally toward Прочь, Россия!
Food? Nope. Come fed or plan for a slice later. The calendar is the point: Sunday Night Fiction, Monday Night Poetry, Fantastic Fiction, one-offs from MFA programs and indie mags. There’s a reason (besides cheap drinks) why writers swarm here.
In case it wasn’t clear: you don’t have to be a writer to drink here. Outside of the programmed hours, it’s still just a divey little bar. And, if somebody vouches for you, you can stay real late. But if you don’t care about literature or at least have a healthy reading habit, you might feel a bit like a punk in a sports bar.
Yes, KGB can feel scene-y. In the wrong light, that can read as exclusion. But it is, after all, just a bar and anyone should be able to go anywhere they want without fear of judgment. Still, in Manhattan–where it feels like every rough edge is being sanded down–it’s hard to begrudge the regulars their clubhouse. If your priority is producing content, take your business elsewhere. There are plenty of sleeker options nearby where nobody will mind. But if you’re here to be here, then pay attention during readings, order like an adult, don’t make yourself a nuisance, and tip well. Before long, you might just find yourself shooting newcomers the stink-eye.