In this fabulous alternative history of the modern world, the academic and “party historian” Imogen Willetts looks at the last 500 years of civilisation through the sometimes blurry lenses of its after-dark scenes, with fascinating results. She begins by trying to capture what it feels like to go on a big night out, focusing on a phenomenon that, in 1912, the sociologist Émile Durkheim labelled “collective effervescence”. In one passage, she explains this by referencing dancing as part of ancient tribal hunting rituals, listening to Charli xcx’s 365, or singing along to Sweet Caroline with tens of thousands of other people in a stadium.
This is no dry academic study, then, and its mix of historical research, critical theory and conversational references to pop culture makes for a bright and compelling read. What Willetts calls the “seemingly superficial act of getting gussied up to drink, dance, have fun and meet people” is, of course, much more than that, and she scratches away at the layers with skill. Nightlife can contain, or enable, rebellion, community, innovation, art, love, sex and political revolution. From Japan to France, from Shanghai to Germany, via many detours to the United States, she examines historical movements as they might be seen from dusk till dawn.
Its most engrossing chapter offers a corrective to the story of Weimar-era Berlin, which has, she argues, been fixed in the modern memory by the musical Cabaret. To her, this is a revisionist and inaccurate portrait, based on the experiences of tourists rather than natives to the scene. There was surprisingly little appetite for political satire, for example, though cabaret performances could still be abrasively transgressive. The dancer Anita Berber is one of the most mesmerising figures here: Willetts describes her daily ritual of a “breakfast elixir”, a tragic-glamorous concoction of chloroform, ether and white rose petals. On stage, she 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 almost certainly still do so 100 years later.
All of the key moments, such as the arrival of disco and the popularity of Studio 54, or the “lifestyle porn” of the Rat Pack in Las Vegas, are here, though Willetts is wary of the legend of the former, and scathing when it comes to the latter. While famous figures do appear, from Josephine Baker to Billie Holiday to Edie Sedgwick, there is a fondness for those worlds and people mostly lost to history, such as the New Orleans jazz pioneer Buddy Bolden, who Louis Armstrong believed had played so much cornet that his brain had been starved of oxygen, sending him mad.
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 out 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, by organised crime, or, from the mid-20th century onwards, by corporations and investors.
Up All Night approaches the present day with a sense of impending doom. Having cheerfully acknowledged that all nightlife is cyclical, Willetts is clear about the fact that we are in a slump, and she is certain of its cause. “Smartphones are ruining our nights out,” she writes, bluntly. The ever-present possibility of surveillance, the gen Z fear of being seen as “cringe”, the apathy wrought by digital entertainment: all have helped put paid to the “roaring 20s” era that was supposed to follow the Covid lockdowns. But her epilogue is rousing: “We’ll never be able to feel the high of collective effervescence through a screen,” she writes. After reading this tantalising record of its history, few could resist the urge to strike out in pursuit of it once again.
• Up All Night: A History of Going Out by Imogen Willetts is published by W&N (£25). To support the Guardian buy a copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.
