Molasses Books hosted to the longest continuous reading—between 4 p.m. and midnight on Saturday—and by 10, the room was alternately reverent and punchy. At times, being tucked snugly into the cozy bookstore with the cold, black night just beyond, felt a bit like being on a whaling ship in the middle of an ocean. Other times—like when a handful of people tentatively popped the tabs on their beers all at the same time, prompting the reader to break character and cheerful announce, “You can just do it!” amidst giggles—the scene resembled any other Saturday night gathering of tipsy young literary Brooklynites. This impression was bolstered by the presence of Jonathan Ames, whose small, light-blue knit cap and bandaged left hand may or may have been part of a costume.