I realize, after all these years, it's time to come clean. But before I confess though, please let it be known that in every other aspect of my life, I am a loyal, monogamous person. I pay my taxes, love my husband (and only my husband), remember my friends' birthdays. I rarely lie, and never, ever steal. Still, I do consistently break one cardinal rule of clean living...I cheat on my book club.Or I guess I should say I cheat on my book clubs. Plural.
I recognize this is a problem. That when you are invited into a book club it is with the expectation that you have tacitly agreed and committed to certain covenants: that you will have read the chosen book, that you will arrive ready and willing to discuss, that you will bring a bottle of wine (or cheese dip, or sometimes dinner, depending on the standards set by the other members), perhaps above all that you will not repeat this ritual with another group --- next week --- across town. And except for the very last rule, I'm golden. I reliably show up, I reliably read the book, and I reliably provide the novelist's perspective. Perhaps, if I was feeling like tooting my own horn here, I might even venture to say I am a better than the average book club member. I often come armed with funny anecdotes, some insider publishing gossip about the author, on good days, maybe even notes in the margins of my books.
I've never cancelled at the last minute. Most importantly, I bring good wine.
So if I have committed a crime, it is only this: I love book clubs too much. A hit once a month just doesn't do it for me. And so I came upon on what I thought was a brilliant and innocuous solution: For the last couple of years, I've been a member of more than one book club at a time. Add to this the numerous guest visits (and conference calls and Skype conversations) I make to groups that are reading The Opposite of Love (and soon my upcoming novel After You) and I realized recently that book club attendance has become something more than a hobby. It may, in fact, border on an obsession.
For those of you who are more monogamous, who have committed selflessly to one group and would never even dream of sharing your famous broad bean dip with anyone else, I'd like to convert you to the dark side. Here's the secret beauty of the polygamous lifestyle: every reading group is different, and can satisfy a different need. In London, I am part of one group that tends to pick serious literary fiction, so I'm also forming another that leans a bit more commercial. When I lived in LA, I was part of a group that used the book chosen as simply an excuse to drink mimosas at noon on Sunday afternoons, and to chat about our lives. And though I loved those women, looked forward to our hours-long discussions, I cheated on them with a co-ed group on the other side of town. There, the club consisted of at least one other novelist, and the book selections were always challenging and provocative. I couldn't tell you who in the group was married or who had kids or what anyone did for a living, but I really got to know how they felt about the books we read.
Before you gasp, or tsk me in shame, I suggest you try the cheating lifestyle. Better yet, why don't you invite me to visit your book club and I'll tell you all about it. I'm always thrilled to discuss The Opposite of Love or After You or just gossip instead if that's your group's thing. What's the harm? Yes, I may cheat on you with the ladies down the block with the homemade guacamole, but I promise you this: I'll be on time. I'll have read the book. Maybe I'll even make you laugh. And hey, if all else fails, at least you'll get a decent bottle of wine out of the deal.
---Julie Buxbaum
