The Book Goddess Reads

There are few things more intimiating than walking into a room where everyone already knows each other.

I nearly turned the car around.

I’d signed up for a local book club on a whim. One of those “future Kate will absolutely be brave enough to do this” decisions made from the comfort of my sofa with a cup of tea in hand. Present Kate, however, suddenly had a million reasons why staying at home with Smudge and a blanket sounded like the superior life choice.

But I went.

There’s something oddly vulnerable about introducing yourself to a circle of new readers who already have shared jokes, favourite meeting spots, and stories from books you’ve never discussed. It feels a little like starting a new school halfway through the term.

I had a very specific image in my head. I’d walk into the meeting point, ready to collect the book, there’d be a circle of readers, chatting away, someone would ask everyone’s thoughts on the book and I’d spend the evening listening to everyone trying not to sound like they’d over analysed every sentence.

What actually happened?

I turned up…

… and I was the only person there.

Not the only new person.

The only person.

Well, apart from the lovely organiser.

So technically it wasn’t really a book club. It was a two-person discussion about the book club, as I had not read that month’s book.

More than just books

We didn’t just chat about the book (again, I hadn’t read it – If you are interested the first book was the Rosie Project by Graeme Simsion). We played a couple of board games – Rummikub and SkyJo.

Now, I have a confession.

I wasn’t sold on Rummikub.

To be fair to the game, I’d spent the afternoon at the vets with Smudge and had come away with a head full of worries*. My mind wasn’t really on numbered tiles and strategy. Whether it was the timing or simply that Rummikub ins’t my cup of tea, I never quite got into it.

Skyjo, though?

That was another story.

Simple enough to pick up, just competitive enough to be dangerous, and exactly the sort of game that makes you say “Go on then… one more round.” (I did actually buy this game for my self, and have indoctrinated my family into it.)

From Two Readers to three

The following month, I decided I wasn’t taking any chances.

I recruited a friend.

Not because I thought nobody else would come (although the thought had corssed my mind) but because I wanted to share it with someone. Community doesn’t work unless we put in the effort.

So then there were three.

Which meant we’d graduated from an accidental meeting in the tiniest social club in the world, to an actual group.

Progress!

The book choice was Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman.

If you’ve read it, you’ll know it’s a novel that sparks conversation. It’s funny, heartbreaking, hopeful, and one of those books that leaves everyone noticing something different.

There was something wonderfully fitting about discussing Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine in what could only be described as the world’s smallest book club. Just two readers, one organiser and a book that centered on loneliness, awkwardness and the quiet ways people find connection. It felt less like a formal book club, and more like the tiniest social club imaginable – a couple of bookworms chatting over coffee (actually Squash since we’ve been in the midst of a heatwave and the building doesn’t have aircon), comparing favourite moment, and proving you don’t need a room full of people to have a meaningful conversation.

Growing one reader at a time

This month we’re hoping to peruade another friend to come along.

I love that this little book club isn’t growing through algorithms – it’s growing because someone says, “Fancy coming with me?”

That’s probably how the best communities begin. Just inviting people who enjoy reading, good conversation and the excuse to buy another book for research purposes.

One invitation.

One conversation.

More than just books

I realised something after that first meeting.

If I’d turned around because I thought it would be awkward to be the only one there, none of this would have happened.

No lovely conversation. No second meeting. No excuse to spend more time with my friend. No plans for another.

Sometimes saying yes to something slightly uncomfortable opens the door to a community you didn’t realise you were looking for. Even if that community starts with just … two people and a copy of the Rosie Project.

And honestly, I can’t wait to see how many of us are around the table in a years time. Maybe we’ll still be four. Maybe we’ll be twelve.

Either way, they’ll be books, plenty of opinions and definitely someone enabling my ever growing TBR.

I’d call that a happy ending.

* A little note on Smudge

Before anyone worries, this happened a little while ago. Smudge is doing much better these days, and while we’re still on our IBD journey, he’s currently back to being my food-obsessed, cuddle-demanding little shadow. ❤️