Several years ago, a friend of mine started a book club and I was invited to join. Our group consisted of six female members and it was decided that we would meet up once a month (at a different member’s house each time) for dinner and a discussion on books.
Our name, ‘Read Between The Vines’, was duly chosen, because most book clubs are synonymous with wine – and ours was no exception.
However, there was one thing that we decided to do differently. We all agreed that we would not read one specific book each month. That was far too boring and would place way too much pressure on everyone to actually finish the book on time. Besides, what’s the point of having six copies of the same book? So, instead, we decreed that each member could read whatever book they fancied and then we would all report back on our books and swap them.
Our book club launched with great success, but it quickly became evident that the book part of our book club was more of an excuse to get together than the real reason we were there. With good food, a steady flow of wine and a lot of oestrogen-infused conversation, there wasn’t much time to discuss books.
In all fairness, we did try to put on a good show for a while. In the last fifteen minutes, as each evening was coming to an end, we would whip out the books, make a few comments such as “Oh, this one’s really good” or “Give this one a try”, each grab a book and then jump into our cars and go home.
The chosen book would, of course, be placed diligently beside one’s bed with the great determination to read it. But, more often than not, the books would remain unread – and no one really cared. In fact, it just gave us one more thing to laugh about.
As the years passed, the books became of less and less importance, until they were forgotten entirely. Instead our book club turned into a dinner club.
Now, I’ve been told that most book clubs turn into dinner clubs, or – as the men believe – wine clubs. No doubt, there are book clubs where the main focus is actually on books. However, in most cases, book clubs aren’t about the books. They are about our lives and the stories we are writing right now.
When six women get together for ‘book club’, it’s a chance to break away from our regular lives and to share our joys and woes. It’s a cherished time when we get to indulge in that most sacred feminine art of limitless conversation; an almost magical moment that’s filled with anecdotes about the men in our lives, our children, our parents, our careers, politics, religion, finances, what makes us happy and what makes us sad, while trading secrets and sharing sorrows. No topic is taboo and we never run out of things to say. Plus, more often than not, we laugh ourselves silly – and, yes, we enjoy a few sips of wine. Okay, perhaps, more than a few, but who’s counting?
In short, what makes our book club so special is the bond that we share. When we started out, we were virtual strangers. Now, we are close friends who always look forward to spending time together. And although we haven’t read one single book concurrently, we’ve shared hundreds of stories and adventures, and built unforgettable memories in the process. So, who needs books when you have a book club?
Audrey Whyte 
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