Have you ever wanted to sip a cool, clear martini with Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton at the Ritz-Carlton in downtown Boston? Do you picture yourself debating gender fluidity with Saadat Hasan Manto and Ismat Chughtai at Pak Tea House? Do you want to lounge on a grassy lawn with Virginia Woolf, wearing your best cream-colored knit and humoring multiple potential lovers, preferably at once?

A benefit to being alive right now is the ability to look back at these fascinating literary figures, together, in varying configurations. I invite you to spend a few minutes of your day in a state of pleasant longing.

Use your imagination to throw the wildest dinner party of your dreams. Virginia is coming, so be thoughtful in your flower selection. Plan the menu. Do you want to pair clam chowder with Lucknowi kebab? It’s a little weird, but I say go for it. Consider serving a non-alcoholic aperitif, for Manto’s sake. Seat the revolutionary-minded Indo-Paks a safe distance away from the Allahakbarries, just in case.

Hemingway is not invited, for once. We’ve seen Midnight in Paris too many times, and frankly, he sounds a bit exhausting. Are you as relieved as I am? After a quick consideration, I added Zelda back to the guest list because she’s an absolute laugh and I want to see her outfit. She’s bringing the party favors… no, I didn’t ask. Where’s the fun in that?

The night will be magical and dreamy — with potentially volatile outcomes. Hey, I don’t make the rules. It’s your imagination, and if you insist on inviting Olivia Rodrigo and serving hot honey wings, who am I to stop you? If you ask me, she’d fit right in.