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BOOK CLUB DEFENDER |
 weekly book club meeting |
A good book club can enlighten and enrich you
By JOYCE KIEFER
of TheColumnists.com
In recent columns,
Michael Johnson and Gerald Nachman--two former college classmates
who will always be "Mike" and "Jerry" to
me--squared off against the current craze for book clubs, the
literary salons of post-television society.
From London, Mike sniffed and called them, “Let’s learn to read” clubs. From San Francisco, Jerry confided the dirty little secret that the “yummy desserts served…after we’ve gone through the motions of an intelligent discussion” upstage the books for him. Both agree that social aspects outweigh the opportunity for literary discussion.
They would surely apply their comments to the two book clubs I know and love. But I contend that what appears superficial actually touches the heart of what fiction writers strive for–connecting the reader with the human experience presented by their characters.
For instance:
“I hate it when someone calls me
‘Stupid’. The kids call everybody that at school but
every time I hear it I wonder what I did wrong.”
The Fifth Grade girl wearing the Cat-in-the-Hat chapeau made
that observation at my granddaughter’s mother/daughter book
group. The book under scrutiny was “The Misfits” by
James Howe. The story is about a geeky group of seventh graders
whose classmates call them names--"Beanpole," "Fatso,"
"Loser," "Fairy."
Since Middle School looms ahead next year,
the girls studied the characters and their setting with survivors'
interest. They got inside each character to feel the pain and
spoke righteously on how they would relate to these fiction kids.
Whenever the discussion spun too far from the book itself, one
of the moms reined it in. The moms were good at limiting their
daughters’ solitary discourse and making sure everyone got
a chance to speak up.
A mom who teaches children’s literature at a nearby University
founded the group two years ago. Her basic criterion was that
none of the girls be close friends. That way the focus would
be on the book. No mini-sorority here.
Is this therapy in disguise, “let’s make reading fun,”
or show-off time?
Sometimes, but not basically.
These girls answered the invitation to join because they wanted
to share good books or provocative ones with other girls who
love to read. The Moms get in on the “cool,” since
they are expected to read what the girls choose and chat about
the books with their daughters in the girls’ own terms.
The hostess of the month chooses a book she has enjoyed and leads
the discussion. The girls stay attentive throughout the evening,
even when they seem squirmy. The night I attended, some wore
pajamas. “More fun that way,” said one of the moms,
also dressed in pajama pants. Candy bars had been served in the
dining room. The book characters liked junk food.
My own book group is self-selective and has no expectation of
attendance. It is run by the city library. For the past eight
years about 100 people have come through. About a dozen are “regulars,”
according to one librarian who acts as facilitator. People attend
for the same reason my granddaughter and friends attend their
club. They want to hear what others get out of a book that fascinated
them and to argue and discuss the various opinions about it.
A good writer hooks us with characters
that come off the page and enter our lives. And so in our minds
we argue with these characters and love or hate them with more
freedom than with real people. Deep down we know we would feel
the same as they do in at least one of the situations in which
the writer placed them. Through these characters the writer takes
the reader’s hand through an experience or perspective that
he/she would not have had without reading the book.
Those of us who sign a list are notified about the schedule and
get to nominate and vote on the books for the following year.
We do non-fiction as well as fiction, classics as well as best
sellers, although the latter dominate. “Don Quixote”
was nominated this year, along with that hottie among book clubs,
“The Kite Runner.” The list ended up including Camus’
“The Stranger” (which I read in Western Civ.), Doris
Kearns Goodwin’s “No Ordinary Time,” and Davis
Mas Masumoto’s “Epitaph for a Peach.”
We are subject to outside influence. The peach book was a county-wide
“Silicon Valley Reads” selection, chosen to get us
thinking about our past as a giant fruit orchard. “The Kite
Runner” was folded into a program called “California
Stories Uncovered,” which receives support from the National
Endowment for the Humanities. A global village, the Bay Area
sports a sizable Afghan community.
Mary, one of the two librarians in charge of kite nigh, sports
black, spiky hair and lots of earrings in contrast to the graying
sweat-suited look of the rest of us, mostly women. Instead of
handing out questions (What did you like best about the book?,
can you connect with the experience presented?, etc.), she had
each of us give our impression of the story and let the discussion
flow from there.
Since none of us were Afghan refugees, we had an easier time
thinking of the characters in literary terms. We focused on the
father-son relationships and the tale of redemption. Some of
us gasped at the portrayal of physical cruelty and the ruthless
class system. A couple of people were there because they knew
the author, Khaled Hosseini, as a doctor at Kaiser.
But when we discussed the Masumoto book, things got more personal.
Those raised on farms questioned the writer’s idealization
of rural life, which they saw as basically full of muck. Everyone
remembered when fresh fruit had taste, so they sympathized with
the writer even as they picked through his style. That night
the librarian served peach nectar.
What I want to examine with a group of book lovers is the writer’s
craft, theme development, wonderfully worded phrases and descriptions,
well-crafted turns of the tale. Since my reading time is limited
by an overly busy schedule and the sleepiness of advancing age,
I don’t want to fill it with other people’s choices
without room for my own. But I do like to be challenged by the
reading suggestions of others.
On Kite Night, Mary the librarian passed out survey sheets. What
was our income, range of education, race, how did we learn about
the group? She needed this information in connection with the
supporting grant. I thought I would ask about the results. Am
I in the company of mostly college graduates? If not, would that
change my interest? A friend who belongs to a Wellesley alumnae
book group says some of the women like to focus on how they relate
to the characters. Just like the fifth grade gals.
All I ask of a book club is this: Will the other readers’
observations help me appreciate or enjoy a book more than I did
on my own? Because I like to write, will the group teach me something
about a writer’s impact on the reader?
Next month I’m baking cookies for my granddaughter’s
group, which she will lead. She has chosen “The Two Princesses
of Bamarre” by Gail Carson Levine. I wish I could provide
the magic tablecloth that belonged to one princess. If you talk
to it right, it sets out a feast and then makes everything disappear
whenever she tells it to quit.
©2005 by Joyce Kiefer. The illustration is from IMSI's Master Clips Collection, 1895 Francisco Blvd. E., San Rafael, CA, 94901-5506, USA. This column first posted May 2, 2005.
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