My book club would roll over and admit defeat before any other book club had even fired the first shot. Or turned the first page. Because, actually, truth be told, it’s more of a wine club. With books.
Quite a few people turn up having not even read the book. None of it. “I couldn’t find it on Amazon. What was the title again?”
Or (and I am guilty of this!) they arrive, clutching that month’s book, with a book mark clearly visible and lodged about half way through. They haven’t finished it. Which is fine – we’ve all got busy lives. But then they decree that we ‘mustn’t give away the ending!’ which makes discussing the book rather tricky.
We usually talk about the book for about ten minutes and then discussion turns to: when is the village pub going to re-open and who else has had their green bin nicked?
But about fifteen minutes before the end of the 2 hour get-together, the host/hostess assembles the 5 or 6 books that they’ve chosen for next month. This, I have to admit, is my favourite part.
The books are passed around, some people shout “I’ve read this already!” or even “We read this one last year!” And then we have a vote on next month’s book. This month’s choice was Anita Shreve’s ‘The Lives of Stella Bain’. Eek, must admit I’m not that keen on old Anita. BUT, perhaps I will be pleasantly surprised by this one..
Sounds like fun? It is! And everyone’s lovely and it’s been a great way of meeting some of our neighbours. But book club? Nah. Sorry, but it’s not…