I discovered the White Horse Trading Company on February 7, when a friend organized a gathering there to mark Dickens’ 200th birthday. It couldn’t have been a better choice—English-themed and crowded with used books. In fact, as the bartender pointed out on a recent return visit, the White Horse considers itself not exactly a pub, but a bookstore with alcohol—beer and wine only (and no soda: You can get a Lillet but not a Coke). Red leather couches are arranged in conversation-facilitating shapes, and the background music’s modulated likewise. But unlike what you may expect, the clientele does not seem to skew older; under-30s come here who are actually able to visit a bar for purposes other than getting wasted and/or scheduling a fuck. Call me antisocial, but a pub where you can sit alone with a book and not feel weird is my kind of place—a coffeehouse with booze, essentially, and wonderfully comfy. GAVIN BORCHERT 1908 Post Alley, 441-7767, whitehorseseattle.com