Book clubs discussions work well with the right group

By Debbie Farmer

I had a feeling I needed more mental stimulation when, in the middle of telling my husband about my day, I began to gaze off into the distance and drool.

So my friend Shirley suggested that I join her book club. It sounded perfect: intelligent discussions on literary themes, lively debates based around popular works and lunch at a different restaurant each month.

The only problem was that I would have to read a book. And not just any book mind you, chances are it would be a long one with an intricate plot about casts of people set in far away places.

Now don't get me wrong. I love reading, but the last book I finished had a sturdy cardboard cover, large colorful pictures and a thinly disguised plot based loosely around a group of talking animals and the sounds of the alphabet.

But, since I was desperate to have a conversation with other human beings on any topic other than bodily functions, I decided to try it.

This month, the club was reading Memoirs of a Geisha. Luckily, it was a thick book so if I couldn't finish it, at least I could put it on the top of my stack of other unread books and make a nice drink table.

I whipped it open at the first sign my children were going to play quietly together. If I was quick, I might be able to get through a whole page before a fight broke out.

"Mommy, what are you reading?" my seven-year-old daughter asked.

Memoirs of a Geisha, I said, hoping that would satisfy her enough to go away.

"What's a geisha?"

"A type of woman entertainer."

"Oh." I could tell by her face that I wasn't going to be let off the hook so easily.

"What does she do?"

"Mostly sing and dance," I said.

"Why is her face white?" she asked, looking closely at the cover.

"To make her look pretty."

She considered this for a moment. "Nuh-uh," she said. Then she ran over to her little brother to break this unbelievable news to him.

"Nuh-huh!" he cried.

I made it all the way to the end of the page before she kicked over his block castle.

Then my childless friend Lisa suggested I try books on tape. "That way," she said. "You can listen to it in the car when you're driving around."

So I bought Memoirs on tape, and naively slid it into the cassette player on my way to my son's soccer practice.

Now, in most cars, you have a choice between a tape player or the radio. However, in my car we receive KKID, a local station with an exceptionally persistent signal that broadcasts out of my back seat 24 hours a day.

"Mommy, how fast are we going?"

"I'm cold."

"Did you know there's a grape on the floor and it looks like a bug."

"I'm hot."

"Did we bring snacks?"

"Are we almost there?"

"Why is that so loud?"

"Mom. Mommy? Mommeeeeeeee!"

I actually got through one whole chapter by the day of the meeting and, if I tried real hard, I could probably remember what it was about. But, I decided to go anyway and just focus on the beginning. After all, with enough wine, maybe no one would notice.

This month's meeting was held at an upscale Italian restaurant. When Shirley and I approached the table, she introduced me to the others members of the club: nine intelligent-looking women, all with Memoirs of a Geisha arranged neatly next to their plate. I smiled and tried to cast a knowing look that insinuated I was intimately familiar with the book.

The discussion started even before our wine order was taken. At this rate, they'd be through with chapter one before the salad arrived. I just hoped I'd get to finish the main course before they found out I was nothing more than a nonreading, wannabe-book-club crasher out for a good time.

"Who would like to begin?" One of the women asked.

I raised my hand.

"I thought the first two paragraphs were riveting," I offered, trying to throw them off my track.

"Exactly," the other women agreed.

A long silence followed and I began to get nervous. What if they were on to me and asked me something hard, like what happened in chapter two?

Then a very smart-looking woman raised her hand to speak. "Do you know that Wynonna Judd is getting a divorce?"

"No!" Gasps of disbelief.

"Yes, it's true. I read it while standing in line at the grocery store," she said. "By the way," she said pointing to me, "where did you get that leather bag? It's fabulous."

"Yes," everyone agreed. "It's great."

By the time desert arrived we had discussed the best way to take red wine stains out of a carpet, the debate on backpack versus over-the-shoulder purses and all of the sexy scenes in latest Harrison Ford movie.

When we were finished, we made plans on where to meet next month. Then we tucked our books smugly under our arms and walked to the car.

This book club was going to work out.

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Debbie Farmer can be contacted at familydaze@home.com.

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