Book clubs were the cool new thing about three years ago, and typically for me I have waited until now to join one.
Not that it was a conscious decision. I was invited to join one and couldn't think of a good reason not to. So I am a founder member of 'the book club'. Action item 1 is to think of a better name.
I had always wondered what book clubs 'do' and had prepared a few notes on the chosen book (The Time Traveler's Wife) for page quality, binding, smell and the niceness of the ISBN number (a bit disappointing: 0099464462)
Wide of the mark as it turned out.
What book clubs do is gossip, drink wine and eat tortilla chips, then move on to discussing good and bad things about the story.
I read the book on Christmas Day (there is a bit of a story about that which I will recount another time) and six weeks ago I sent the book to a bookcrossing member in Devon. As a result I was working from unreliable memory and managed to invent an entire chapter, which on reflection comes from Donna Tartt'sThe Little Friend. Although maybe I have remembered that wrong too and it really was in Time Traveler and the book club harridans were just messing with me.
Notwithstanding that, it was a very enjoyable evening and in the tradition of overambitious beginnings we have resolved to read two books and watch one DVD for the next meeting:
A History of the World in 10 1/2 Chapters
Frankenstein
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
The first and third were my choices and the second I should have read by now but never got around to it.
I had better get on with it.