René van der Meijden

Empty Book Club wasn't born in a boardroom. It was born at dinner tables, in airport lounges, and during the "after-hours" of a decade spent in global business.

I noticed a pattern. The most profound truths, the sharpest insights, and the best jokes of a trip were never the ones written in the official report. They were the ones shared over a farewell drink, the observations that were too honest for a PowerPoint, but too good to forget.

I started turning those observations into book covers. I'd hand them to colleagues and friends as gifts. The books looked like premium literature; the interiors were entirely empty.

They became the hit of every party for one reason: they gave people permission to stop being so serious.

I am a fan of the six-word story and stylishly absurd art. I believe a title can carry more weight than 400 pages of filler. In a world drowning in AI-generated noise and over-explanation, EBC is a return to restraint.

We are a publishing house that doesn't publish words. We provide the frame; you provide the meaning.

If it's going to be empty, the exterior must be flawless. I treat every EBC book like a piece of art, a physical anchor for your desk or shelf that serves as a constant reminder to leave room for reflection, a grin, or the power of keeping your mouth shut.