My earliest memories of “book club” involve ladies in “party pajamas” lounge wear surrounded by blue and green shag carpet and shrouded in a haze a cigarette smoke. My mother played bridge to “get out of the house”… a need that evidently ended upon her reentry into the workforce when I started middle school. But her need for books continued, right out of the seventies and on into the present. Through fall salad suppers, Christmas parties where the spouses actually get to attend, and the monthly book discussions accompanied by dessert, the ladies of the club have soldiered on for over 40 years.
The club does have an official name and written rules and regulations as well, but always, always, it was just “Book Club” my mother was off to as she swept out of the house once a month.
And tonight, I’m looking forward to doing a little sweeping of my own. After years of interest in having a book club of my own but no time to take on organizing one, I’ve been invited to tag along with Best Friend to a new club that’s holding its first meeting tonight. Even better, this month’s choice is The Thirteenth Tale , a book I’ve already read. What more could I ask for than a night out with the ladies, a good book discussion, and no last-minute reading pressures?
Right now it’s just what I need. And, fortunately, this occasion won’t require any party pajamas for participation.