|pic from http://interioralchemy.tumblr.com/page/10#|
It is hard to believe that I've reached this (hopefully not too) ripe old age, without having belonged to a book club.I love books, I love reading and usually I don't mind people too much. I'm middle aged and middle class so surely I tick all the right book club boxes?
I'm reading William Gibson's book of essays "Distrust that Particular Flavour" (Recommended by Julie at Moments of Perfect Clarity. She has some great excerpts from the book on her blog).
When I got home I was feeling a bit bewildered. It was a nice night. Two people I really like were there, and the other women were interesting and engaging. The food was delicious. the books were great. But something was niggling, and it took Gibson to give me the answer when he wrote:
"In writing speeches, curiously, one sometimes finds out what one thinks, at that moment, about something."
For me, in having a new experience, I was reminded about something that I have always had a problem with, and perhaps why I have never been invited to a book club before.
I don't fit well with groups of women, and I rebel against people who are sticklers for the rules.
It is not that I don't understand the value of rules. In our office I am a major rule maker, and I think that professional boundaries are not a bad thing, as long as there is room for creativity as well. I have been describing it to some of the people who work with us as a tree: the roots all look pretty similar, and they have to be there, but the canopy of each tree is different.
Probably, if I am honest, I don't mind rules as long as I think they are logical. And, of course, I think that all the rules I make are perfectly logical!
So what was the rule that I found most irksome? The one that said that I was not allowed to talk about what I had been reading in case it wasn't a book that was already in the bookclub. I'm still thinking that maybe I misheard it... because try as I might I can't find a reason for it.
But this is my blog, and I am the boss of this space (picture a petulant child, foot stamping optional) so I will tell you that I have just finished The Long Earth by Terry Pratchett and Stephen Baxter and I loved it. The idea of an infinity of parallel earths that can be stepped into (with or without a potato) filled me with longing.
And I'm loving William Gibson too.