A new old kind of bookclub
I just spent a wonderful week reading the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society. Which seriously, if you are in need of a long afternoon of pure delight you should totally also do. But aside from being a good read it lead me to an epiphany about book clubs.
I was in a book club a few years ago. In fact I ran that club for a few long months. Want to know the pervasive feeling I got from being in that group? Guilt. Pure, gut wrenching guilt. Every month the date of the meeting would draw near and I would rush out to buy the book we were supposed to be reading. I wouldn't crack it open until a few days before the actual book club date and then I'd read as much and as fast as possible.
The day of the event would be spent agonizing about whether or not I should even attend and the last hour would usually find me sitting in my car, parked in front of the host's house, cramming a few last pages.
I can't remember a single book that I read in its entirety. I can remember quite a few that I never started.
I loved the people I met with and despite never having finished the books I always had a great time discussing them. They were smart, educated, and cultured women. But the day I quit the book club I felt nothing but relief. And all of a sudden I was able to find time to read - books that I actually wanted to read instead of books I had to read.
So what does all this have to do with the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society?Continued on the next page