My Ideal Book Club

 

I've belonged to writing groups for many years, but I've never belonged to a book club. Nor have I ever wanted to.

Why? Because part of my stubborn nature means I do not wish to be forced to read a book not of my choosing. I have friends who belong to book clubs, even writing group friends who straddle both kinds of gatherings. One format is: they meet once a month, and each woman chooses one book for the year and hosts that session.

That would mean I would be reading ELEVEN books not of my choosing in a year. I don’t think so! Sure, they might be books I'd have chosen to read anyway. But that's not quite the point. I may have chosen to read them at another time, in another year, in another decade.

If we’re not enrolled in some kind of educational course, any book one reads should be something you've personally chosen to read, depending on mood or interest or topic or circumstances. To be directed to read something takes the pleasure out of reading.

I'm not opposed to book clubs. I think they're a lovely way of gathering and talking about books. They promote book sales and get an author's name out into the world. A bonus is having an author attend a book club meeting where you get to ask her (or him) all kinds of questions about the book and their writing process.

No, what I'm opposed to is others selecting my reading material, choosing the way in which I spend some of my most pleasurable hours.

And so, I present to you my version of The Ideal Book Club.

A group of savvy, smart, thoughtful women, no more than six, because any more than that invites cross-conversation and people talking over each other. Maybe even five. Odd numbers are better, it discourages pairing.

Okay five women, who’ve each read of a book of their own choosing, but not in a genre that the group has agreed upon should be excluded (e.g. no sci-fi but speculative fiction is okay) meet in someone’s home. They take turns in each other’s houses and no advance special cleaning is required because no one will run a finger along the bookshelves for dust or care if the carpet has not been vacuumed to perfection. The pillows do not have to be precisely plumped.

The host is responsible for the cutlery, napkins and wine glasses (never plastic), but everyone brings some food that must be of the snacking variety and not messy because, of course, there are pages to be flipped.

In turn, each woman describes the book she’s read (or is still reading). She can give away the ending if she chooses – that’s the rule and if you’re in the club, that’s the risk you take – but given that these women read a LOT of books and have a LOT of thoughts going through their heads, chances are they won’t remember the ending anyway.

Once the woman describes the book, she then makes a case for why the others should read it, or not. She must describe the character in the book she liked best or least and why, and then she must relate something in her own life (an incident, a situation, an emotion) that she remembered or felt while reading the book. These personal stories are sacred – there is an unwritten code in the group – and cannot be shared. So this is a safe space to disclose whatever secret burden or memory was evoked. (I recently read THE CONFESSIONS CLUB by Elizabeth Berg where the group just shares secrets, not books, and I’m not sure if this idea came from that book, or this idea came first. But I still think it’s a good one.)

Each person takes a turn around the table (which could be a figurative one, the host does not need to own an actual large table), all while snacking and sipping.

Oh, and there would be no complaints about the food and absolutely no mention of diets or empty calories and none of the “I’m avoiding sugar” or “Carbs and gluten are bad for you”. If you don’t fancy someone’s offering, you simply don’t put it on your plate. Everyone knows each other’s allergies (and the host has sent out this reminder a few days earlier) so no life-threatening food will be present. There will be no demonizing of food or wine while books are being discussed.

There is no pressure to all read the same book. There is no pressure to agree or disagree on how the book made you feel or whether the plot was not fast paced enough or too haphazard, or whether the characters were likeable. You don’t even need to have finished the book; you can be partway through it and can explain why you’ve set it aside or wanted to throw it across the room, why it irked you, or why you couldn’t put it down and gobbled it up in one sitting.

Discussions done, the group helps the host clean up before they leave.

It will be a Book Lovers’ Club not a Book Club. Anyone want to join?

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Two novels I raced through. 

In The Confession Club, where women gather, not to talk about books, but to reveal past secrets, indiscretions or something they've been ashamed of for a while, BERG somehow manages to turn the spotlight on ordinary life events and conversation into highly captivating pages.

In Hello Stranger, CENTER does it again, pulling at our heartstrings, with her quirky characters, flawed and loveable, trying and failing and trying again. Sadie has an interesting 'condition' which messes up her life even more than it already is, what with wicked stepmother, evil stepsister, remote father and a career as a portrait artist that has never taken off. (Canada gets a mention in the book.)

I love the writing of both authors and would pick up a book from without even reading the flap copy (other than to check if I've read it before, because sometimes that happens).