Book Clubs

How ironic that what is for most a solitary occupation should give rise to social occasions in the form of the book club.

For most people, reading is a solitary occupation.  There are exceptions.  The bed time story between parent and child, the story time in school or library between CRB checked adult and children, or the public reading between author and crowd he wishes were younger, hipper and more attractive or she wishes were not so bloody condescending to women writers.

Of course there is always that moment when you see somebody else reading the same book as you on public transport and share either a nod, a knowing glance, or bodily fluids, depending on just how racy the book in question is., another delightful social convention the Kindle is killing off until they come up with one with a back screen that shows the cover of whatever you’re reading.

Certain books are exempt from the ‘Oh, you’re reading that too?’ moment.  These are Harry Potter books and anything by John Grisham.  The same goes for any book duplicated poolside or on the beach.  Any book from the Song of Ice and Fire cycle is actually fair game, especially if the other person is behind you in their reading, allowing you to sharply draw breath when they mention their favourite character.

There are, of course, certain books that essentially are a public service announcement.  Don’t strike up a conversation with any woman reading ’50 shades of grey’ unless you really enjoy hearing about unhappy relationships.  If you see anyone reading ‘Catcher in the Rye’ they may not be a psycho, but can you really take that chance?  Oddly, anyone reading ‘American Psycho’ is probably normal, but would rather read than talk to you so is best left alone.

Where we read is in our own space, in our own head.  If we want company, we do the voices of the characters in our head while we read.  Mostly, we don’t.

On the one hand then, the very existence of book clubs is surprising.  Everyone actually getting organised enough to read the same book at the same time?  Amazing.  What’s more, that this should happen in England?  A place where usually nobody ventures a critical opinion about anything, unless it’s a tut!  Newspaper review supplements should change their star ratings to a tut/star rating system.  If a book is OK, it gets a star, if it’s amazing, it gets five stars.  But if it’s awful, it gets a tut, and if it’s really awful, it gets five tuts.

On the other hand, anyone who finishes a book immediately wants to tell people about it.  It doesn’t matter if it’s a novel, a travelogue or ‘Amazing Buns In Just Five Weeks’, give somebody a glass of white wine and a voulevont and they will spit damp crumbs at you in their enthusiasm to communicate just how good the latest Patricia Cornwall is.

Haven’t read it?

Doesn’t matter, it’s like a fucking abridged audiobook, you’ll get the potted plot in three minutes, followed by thirty minutes of just how relevant the book was to the reader.  Bonus material can include, but is not limited to, who should play what roles in any movie adaptation.

The book club formalises this process.  If it’s a crap club, then everyone talks books for five minutes before talking about soft furnishings.  If it’s a good one, then everyone maintains a veneer of respectability for about five minutes before acrimony occurs.

Because the English, when forced to read the same book, can have wildly different opinions, and that’s what makes book club so much fun.  That and alcohol (my book club meets in a pub).

And it is a great social occasion.  You get to try out new skills, like back-pedalling from the brink of social mortification after you open with ‘it was shit and anyone who liked it is a peado’, only to find yourself in a minority and secretly starting to wonder if the rest of the group are just a little bit thick, or peados.

No book club in your area?  Start one.  You get to choose the first book!  I recommend ‘American Psycho’.