How Many Book Clubs Does a Woman Need?
Well, it depends.
Just returned from a newly formed group of kindred spirits. Drove past the meadows and through the tunnels of trees with the warm night wind in my hair and the night sounds of crickets and frogs.
People sometimes talk about me now living “way out there in the middle of nowhere,” but I can’t agree. I have what I need and love right here, right now. It must be everyone else living in the wilderness. It’s all a matter of perspective, I suppose.
I actually have more intellectual stimulation here than when I lived in New York because life is slower and less stressed. Like minded people have more time to talk and socialize.
And there is the phone and the Internet and the classical music station and trips to the opera and plane tickets as always.
Yes, we have surrealism here, and we read Arts and Letters Daily, the New Yorker and the NY Times Book Review and same books you do, and we laugh at the same jokes.
My very first conversation when I landed here was about Faulkner in a supermarket parking lot. Ah to be home again.
And (this is a big and) we get to wear color in the Midwest. We can wear black if we want to, but we often don’t. Strange, isn’t it?
I loved New York, but I also love my scenes of childhood. I’m living in the past and present at the same time, and it’s quite an experience. Memories around every corner.
So how many book clubs does a woman need? Three? Four? And maybe I’m still counting. Stay tuned.