“Come to bed! It’s after midnight.”
“Soon. I promise! I’ve only got fifty more pages.”
Maybe you can guess. I have book club in the morning and no
way, no way I’m going to sleep before I’ve finished the book. Happens almost
every month.
I’m a big reader. Such a big reader that when I made a New
Year’s resolution to read more, my daughter smiled. No, she didn’t laugh at me,
but almost. “Mom, you already read more than anyone I know. How can you want to
read more?”
I don’t know. But I do.
There are different kinds of reading. There’s fun reading
snuggled now under the down comforter on a cold night or stretched out on the
couch on a rainy day. There’s serious research reading; I keep my notebook by
my hand (or my notepad). I underline. I reread. And don’t bother me. There are
magazines—the ever growing stack of magazines—and the two newspapers a day.
Lots of reading. But nothing quite like book club reading.
First off, often it’s something I’d never chose to read if I
were making the calls, but I’m not. It’s on the list; I read the book. Second,
I read carefully, after all, I’m going to have to talk about this. Third, I
finish—nothing like deadline.
It’s not just book club reading that I relish. I like the
book club itself. No matter how meticulously I’ve read, someone catches
something I’ve missed entirely. Occasionally, I’m the catcher and amaze someone
with what I’ve picked up. Other times, I’ve read something one way and, to my
amazement, others take it quite another way. Exhilarating! I don’t need the
coffee and cookies.
I’d been missing the book club experience. I was lonely for
book club buddies. About four years ago we moved back to Houston after a
‘temporary’ stay of over twenty years in a small town in Georgia. Some things I
badly missed about city life, something I liked about small town living, and
one thing I loved—my book club. It was an old (founded in 1929), somewhat
tradition-bound organization. (Great controversy when someone served
refreshments ‘after’ instead of before.) But twenty-five intelligent,
thoughtful women gathered every two weeks. The best two days of the month!
 |
| I miss my Georgia book club--always will, but I'm relishing my three new ones. Count 'em, 3! |
When we
gave Houston a probationary year, I went on leave. But when we put the house on
the market, sadly, I put my resignation in the mail. It wasn’t fair to keep
another woman from enjoying what I had loved. But now here I was in Houston,
and no book club. I missed it, missed it, missed it.
So in 2012,
when I resolved to read more, I also resolved to find a book club. No one was
going to call me up and invite me aboard, so I’d better find my own. Resolution
fulfilled! I have three, and I’m thinking about a fourth. They couldn’t be more different. Once a month
I go to my nearby indy mystery book store, Murder by the Book, we read to a
theme. This month we’ll read two first novels, both set in England but very
different, one is cozy beyond cozy (Wicked Autumn) while the other is
dark, dark, dark (The Hollow Man). Every Sunday morning—my family
doesn’t believe I’m doing this—I hike over to the nearby Unitarian Church where
they welcome new readers—church member or not—into their book discussion group
of serious philosophical and historical works. In fact, next month I’m the leader for the over
800-page From Dawn to Decadence: 1500 to the Present by Jacques Barzun.
I’ll be reading very carefully; you can bet on it. (It’s going to take us
several weeks to do this one.)
Finally and
where I think I’ve found my book club ‘home’ is at the Museum of Fine Arts,
Houston where I am a volunteer. The Guild book club takes on a book a month and
then we go to lunch. Last we discussed Carvaggio: A Life Sacred and Profane.
It’s the book that gave rise to the “Come to bed!” conversation. I thought it
interesting but difficult going in, but I came out so excited that I returned
to the museum after lunch to look at some familiar works in a whole new way.
I’ll
remember 2012 as a banner year—I kept two resolutions. That may be a record.
I’m in three book clubs and, smile if you will, Daughter, I’m reading more.
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