Last month, I was lucky enough to be invited to the
Cheltenham Festivals' monthly book club. This would be my first ever venture
into a book club. I suppose one could say that I have been attending ‘book
clubs’ for years, that is, lectures, classes and seminars, but on reflection, I
can’t quite believe it has taken me this long to actually attend a bona fide
one.
And so I accepted the invitation with both excitement and
trepidation. Why? The titters amongst colleagues who attend book clubs always
surmount to anecdotes that contain lashings of wine, gossip and not so much
book reading and/or discussion. Not that I have any problem drinking said wine
or participating in titillating banter, but I realised I was totally clueless
as to the required etiquette. It turned out there was no etiquette at all
really, just discussion, honesty and the ability to take turns (it was a big
group). With wine involved however, this would have produced a much different
outcome!
Reading the book in question, however, offered no hurdles –
we would be discussing the quite brilliant Stoner by John Williams.
This book has become something of a phenomenon. Published in
the US
over 40 years ago, it was received with mixed reviews. Today, however, it has
literary critics and bookworms alike up in arms as to whether it is
thought-provoking prose versus a book about a man in which nothing really
happens. I happen to be in the former camp – it is a beautifully written novel
that simply (but not prosaically) charts a man’s life – it is emotive,
inspiring, and frustrating, all at once.
And the verdict? Bookclubs: join one. Stoner: buy/borrow.
