The book club

I’ve just started a book club over on FB. I had asked for Kindle recommendations and was immediately swamped by a high tide of suggestions. ‘Why don’t we do this every month?’ I asked, then promptly answered my own question by setting one up. We’ve had more than 70 joiners and we’re about to close the poll on our first book choice: that sounds so formal but actually, we’re all just really excited.
That said, over the past week I’ve had several whispered enquiries asking politely about the rules, and there have been a few gentle declines. People are worried about not having the time to read a book a month, let alone think of comments, let alone take part in an online debate. Fair enough, life is busy. I think some are just daunted, because that word ‘club’ has such elitist connotations, doesn’t it?
So I just wanted to push the door open a crack and give some insight into the kind of book club I’d love to be part of – in fact, the kind of book club I was once part of, in my old life in Singapore.
The book club was already well established by the time a friend invited me to join. I turned up at the bar and ordered a drink, thinking how un-book-club-ish it was, and we sat in the sultry night air and enjoyed a bit of gentle chatter about the book… and our lives, and our clothes, and our work, and our kids – and about all sorts of other things too.
I enjoyed myself enough to return the following month, having diligently read the book. This time the venue was a wine bar, where we did much of the same. About three people hadn’t got to the last page, and I remember the literary relief of knowing the expectations were friendly.
I think the third meeting was in someone’s house – a huge house, with many sofas and a lot of wine.
I think the fourth meeting was in a rooftop bar, because one of the group was leaving. The music was a bit loud so we took a couch at the far end, with views across the Marina, and talked in slightly raised voices about the book, and other books, and again about everything under the sun. Or stars.
As numbers depleted a little, with members coming and going, we moved the meetings into our homes and took it in turns to host. No book club should ever be solely about the wine, but it has to be said we always arrived fully charged with book, and bottle, and maybe a bit of cheese. Once we dressed up in the theme of the book. Once there were only two of us, and although we ended up drinking all the wine on her patio, we did actually talk about the book, too. Someone (cough Elspeth cough) even brought along the odd bag of discarded clothes, in advance of an upcoming trip to the local Sally Army. I still have a couple of lovely tops, thanksforthat.
I’ve heard of competitive book clubs. Ours wasn’t, but we would all defend it to the last. I’ve heard of book clubs where the monthly choice was directly in line with what the chooser might have been up to that year, hobby wise. And I’ve heard of book clubs with schedules and clipboards and lists. All we wanted, our little mercurial shape-shifting group, was to get our heads thinking about books and firing up our love of reading.
If we couldn’t finish a book, that was OK. No one was ever marked down for disliking something, or making a ‘wrong’ choice. We had different tastes and we shared them out just like the nibbles. And we were all so sad when book club disbanded due to a huge exodus tipping the balance towards the door. I hosted the last one just as I emptied my flat en route back to the UK: my little lime tree went down in the lift with one of the girls, stuffed into the back of the cab in its pot. I had a little cry before I started clearing up the cheese plates.
Not everyone wants a wine-and-cheesy, free-and-easy book club, but the point is that this is OK too, in fact everything (within reason) is OK. And now there’s finally an online version I’m so happy, not least because the only other club I set up, aged six, had about 18 rules and (to my husband’s cheeky delight every time he finds the sad little folder) just one member: me.
First rule of book club, then, is that there are no rules. Just join up, recommend, take part, note down all the lovely ideas, and be book-happy. You are so welcome.

*The Bedside Table Book Club is on FB. Give me a shout if you can’t find us