Discuss Amongst Yourselves

So tomorrow night I am leading a book discussion group for older teens and adults. I like the idea of book groups, but I fear, in my secret, private thoughts (that I am about to share right out here on the Internets), that I am not really a book-group kind of girl. Are you shocked? Are you going to report me to the librarian police and take my librarian-membership-card away?

I like the idea of book groups though. I really do. I think book groups are like marriages. I would always look around at married people I knew, and think "why would I want that? That looks extremely messy and dysfunctional." It wasn't until I saw people that I could identify with who were married that I could concede that it was something that looked kind of ok. It's the same with book groups. I don't think I've ever been a part of one that's good, functional, fun. So I can't really picture what that would look like. Does it exist? Sure, probably. But it's hard to achieve. Like marriage, it probably is a lot of chemistry and luck thrown in.

The first book group I was in was in college, where a bunch of people decided that they wanted to try it out, and none of us had any book-grouping experience (ah, college. So experimental). That one fell apart, as I recall, because I was in a phase where all I wanted to read was filmmaking books and one of the other members really wanted to read Hemingway, and yet another person wanted to read The Night of the Living Dead. So, a bad mix of people all the way around. It didn't last long.

Then, I was in a book group with friends in the mid-90s. (Wow- isn't that, like, a totally fogey thing I just did? Refer to a time in my life by the decade? Yikes). That was good, because we all read stuff that we liked, and also stretched our reading horizons beyond what we knew before. But, the thing was, we never really talked about the books. We all read them, and met, and basically just said "cool." Or maybe we said "not cool" if we didn't like it. But no real discussion. We had a de facto leader of the group (meaning the bossiest person known to humankind) and I recall we read "The God of Small Things" and she led a spirited discussion along the lines of "what was that whole twin thing about? Gross!" And because we were too nice to try and override her bossy powers, we didn't try to commandeer the discussion. "Yeah," we all said with a sigh. "Gross."

I was once also invited to a book discussion group by a professor I had back in the day. This professor is, I think, the smartest person I have ever met. I was continually blown away by the fountains and fountains of knowledge that she possessed. She said things on a plane of theoretical, abstract thinking that I knew I was only partially understanding, and yet even the small amount that I understood blew my effin' mind. She knew transnational economic deconstructionist shit, ya'll, and could spout it to you in whatever language you wished. She wrote those kind of books that you can read, one incredibly dense passage at a time (often reading the same passage over and over), and ruminate on each and every sentence for hours. So when she chose me--ME--to attend her private book club group with her friends...I was beyond flattered. It was like Mr. Miyagi had told me it was time to run with the big boys. I bought the book, and it was by Luce Irigaray. Fine, I thought, I can get down with some Irigaray. I know Luce. Bring it!

I got to the book group, and it was the definition of "out of my league," people. Now, I can get into an intellectual smackdown, no problem. You want to get into some theory, I'm there. My papers I wrote for my professor's class and the stuff I'd said in that same class must have meant something. I mean, she wouldn't have invited me, out of all the people in her class, if she hadn't thought I had the Right Stuff. But oh my dear Wittgenstein, I had the Wrong Stuff. The Completely Wrong Stuff. This set of people, in this book group, started to talk about this book, and I went all Lil' John on them, at least inside my own head. "Ha-what?" I mean, they were drawing out references to things, and quoting them in the original languages and shit like that. I'm thinking "umm. E Pluribus Unum? La Femme Nikita? Inna-gadda-davita?"

Since then, I have led some good discussion groups via my librarian gig. So I know it doesn't have to be like all those others. But still, I have those feelings beforehand like it's just probably not going to be that rewarding. Maybe that's just performance anxiety or something. I'm providing doughnuts at the next one, so that will make it worthwhile, just for that, right? Because everything is better with doughnuts. Just like marriage. Ok, I think I've pushed the marriage analogy a bit too far.

Kiss the rings, I'm out.
Librarian Girl