This isn't Oprah's book club

When I tell people I belong to a book club, they always ask, "What are you reading?" Then I tell them it is a different kind of book club. We all read whatever we want and report on our choices, then if possible, we exchange books. It leads to the most interesting conversations. Most people are impressed and think it is a very good idea.

Reading for pleasure should be a pleasure and sometimes having to read a certain book by a particular date imposes stress, resentments, and guilt. In our book club, if we don't have something new to report on, we can introduce an old friend from the shelf. At one of the first meetings I went to, someone had just reread an old classic. Some of us knew it and were able to discuss it, and others asked pertinent questions. 

The members all live or lived in my condo building. I, again, am the youngest member by at least eight years and in some cases, by almost thirty years.  I love these ladies who are showing me by example how to stay sharp and interesting as we age. Two of them have Kindles! One woman can remember the names and dates of all the characters in the historical novels she reads. It drives the other ladies a little crazy, but we manage to get her not to give us a summary of all five hundred pages. 

Last night I heard reports on James Patterson's newest. Mary liked the story but could have done without the graphic sex. Rita gave herself permission to not finish a book that although good, was very much like the one she had just read. Edith read The Confession by John Grisham on her Kindle. After the discussion of the story, there was a lot of curiosity about the Kindle. We all like the portability, but... we also like the tactile experience of holding a book in our hands. The fact that you can read in the dark, every readers dream, makes the devices sound enticing. Downloading books, not so much.

I have a wonderful collection of humor. Most of it is from the first part of the twentieth century; Robert Benchely, James Thurber, Clarence Day, Anita Loos. I've shared from contemporary humorists such as Bailey White and others. Someone brought me a large Bennett Cerf collection of jokes, stories, and humorous sketches from the late 1940's. Over the past month I plowed my way through it and was really struck by the misogyny, prejudice, stereotypes and racism in the anecdotes. It was codified. It was accepted, and it was 100% privileged white man. Reading it after the upheavals of the second part of the twentieth century, I am amazed that it took so long for those changes to happen. 

Books are products of the time. The authors in my collection reflect their society, but are never intentionally dismissive of whole populations. They laugh at themselves. No one does this better than James Thurber in The Night The Ghost Got In. Robert Benchely always puts himself as the put upon one with such gentleness and grace. But Bennett Cerf makes others the target of his humor and does not do it with compassion for the bimbos and ethnic people. I have no problem with Mark Twain. It is offensive to see the n word, but it is part of the story, and reflects the time when it was written. Edith told me she didn't want the Cerf book back and I thought I might throw it away but our discussion intrigued Gail to take it.

I reported on New Stories from the South, 2010: The Year's Best. It was a Christmas present and I am doling them out, just one or two a week to make them last. The writing is delicious. The discussion about the art of short stories alone was stimulating and thought provoking. I love this group. It certainly isn't Oprah's book club but it is ours and unique.