Sunday, February 19th

A couple of years ago I spent the day after my birthday reading the latest Ian Rankin from cover to cover. Bliss. Yesterday, for the first time since, I read a book from cover in one sitting. Another Rankin? The latest Lee Child (which, yes, I did order with my Valentine’s Day money)? No. The book was Harriet the Spy and I read it in a day because I was on a deadline.

A month ago I was observed at the gym kicking the punch bag by a mate who didn’t have to ask why I was kicking the bag. She’d come to the gym for the first time in quite a while for the same reason I was there that day: to burn off some of her frustration that President Dickhead had just been inaugurated. After the gym we went for a coffee. I told her I’d signed myself off Facebook for at least a week after the first Dickhead story appeared in my feed. She said she might have to do the same thing. She’s from South Carolina originally and family there were posting triumphant updates about Dickhead’s presidency. “I can’t unfriend them,” she said, “they’re my family.”

The conversation then turned to book clubs. She wanted to join one, but couldn’t figure out how. I laughed and wished her luck. Every time anyone on the island has ever told me they were in a book club, I’d voice an interest in joining, only to be told there was no room for new members. Sitting at the table next to us was a woman who at one point had been the head librarian for the Vancouver Island Regional Library. We turned to her for advice, figuring if anyone knew where the book clubs were and how to get into them, it would be her. Wrong. Whilst she knew for a fact that there were a dozen book clubs on the island, she had never succeeded in penetrating any of them. Apparently they’re like the Masons: you have to know the funny handshake.

The three of us decided we should start our own group and contacted other mates to gauge interest, of which there was a considerable amount. At our first meeting last month, we started off going around the circle saying a few words about the book we were currently reading. Mine was Trevor Noah’s autobiography. (Two thumbs up from me). Another member was rereading The Mists of Avalon. (Prompting a great deal of discussion.) I don’t honestly remember what the other books were.

I was then assigned the job of going onto the VIRL website to find the pre-packaged book club selections. It was a long list. Despite this, it proved very difficult to find consensus on anything. Then I came to Harriet the Spy. Some people had read it years ago, others (myself included) never had. Everyone seemed to think it would be fun.

Was it? I don’t know. Part of me (the part that also wanted to be a writer from a very young age) had some sympathy for Harriet, but most of me just wanted to smack her. Even as a child I had little sympathy for poor little rich girls.

Tonight we have our first meet-to-discuss gathering. None of us have a clue how said discussion is supposed to be led. Perhaps someone has taken the initiative to look this up. (Not me.)  If nothing else, it’s a chance to get together with some mates and drink some wine. Hopefully we’ll come up with something more interesting for the next meeting.

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PS: Day three of no computer games.