Last night was a first. I was invited to a Book Club. Until now, I’ve been doing readings and events. This was more intimate. Up close and personal. Dinner. There were ten women. I knew a few from summer camp and high school — hadn’t seen them in more than thirty years. It was at a house on the Connecticut shore line, calm with the sun setting. The women were all about my age (the first thing they asked me was how hold I am). THey had all read the book. One woman’s book had post- its. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as touching in my life. The best part is that they are readers. Real readers. Always had books going. Every book mentioned, when they were deciding on their next, someone had already read. Music to my agent’s heart.
They wanted to know the usual things: what did my mother think of the book? What about the other ladies? My sisters? How did I get the idea? WHat was I working on next? ONe woman asked me what my father would have thought of the book. That was a first. I don’t think he would have liked it. My dad was from the school of stiff upper lip. They praised my ability to weave so many topics. SOme said they even wanted to try Bridge. They even invited me to join.
Are you in a book club? What’s it like?
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