From the moment guests walk into Bollywood, a restaurant in midtown Manhattan, they know something is different. Two dark-suited hosts push their forefingers to their lips, commanding silence. Couples scribble furiously on notecards instead of sampling from the menu. The oft-inaudible sounds of a Saturday night - ice cubes clinking, throats clearing, chairs scraping as people sit and stand - become almost intrusive in a room as hushed as a monastery.

"Have you been to a 'quiet party' before?" whispers one of the dark suits, helping the inexperienced to tables where paper and pen have replaced linen and silverware. Before long, the seats are full and the pens are flying as partygoers use the written word - and a little body language - to communicate with tablemates.

In an age of mosh pits and the incessant ring of cellphones, the quiet party has risen as a welcome, if offbeat, choice for those seeking a more subdued night on the town. In recent months, the idea of a discussion by mime in a restaurant, bar, or cafe has found followings from New York to Berlin to Beijing, and more are in the works in cities large and small.

Yet many are participating in the phenomenon for reasons beyond escaping noise pollution. Some enjoy the emphasis on content over small talk; others find they are less shy when armed with writerly devices; and still more are drawn to the sheer quirkiness of it all.

"New York City is noisy: garbage trucks, construction, bus brakes squealing," Tony Noe, a lifelong New Yorker, says when explaining why he and fellow artist Paul Rebhan organized the first party in Manhattan in late 2002. "There are people who show up just because it's a place to go without being bombarded by loud music and talking."

But he also sees people being drawn to events like this because much of today's communication, even in this MTV age, is written - albeit not in the form of discursive letters of decades past. "This is an e-mail generation, and a lot of people communicate by typing," he says. "That has something to do with its appeal. It's almost like e-mailing someone sitting right in front of you and seeing their reaction."

Alex Halavais, a professor of communication at the University at Buffalo in New York, couldn't agree more. "People are more comfortable with writing," he says. "Plus, there's something that is aesthetically pleasing or even sensual about writing on paper with pen. It's certainly an escape of the speed of things."

People worry, he adds, that instant messaging and e-mailing will eliminate students' abilities to write - or that they ultimately will create a barrier in communication. "But we're seeing the opposite," he says. "People are experimenting with ways to express themselves through text. I don't see quiet parties as a huge movement, but I do see them as symptomatic of this kind of experimentation."

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