Rules for the men’s book club.
1. You do not talk about the men’s book club.
2. If one guy says “stop” or goes limp during a book-related discussion, the conversation is over.
3. If this is your first night with the men’s book club, you must join in the literary discussion, no matter how heated it gets.
4. At the end of each men’s book-club session, there will be smoking of pipes and enthusiastic drinking of Canadian Club whisky.
OK, there were no Fight Club-inspired rules at the men’s book club meeting I attended in Victoria. That’s too bad, because, well … such rules might be fun.
Book clubs for men are, apparently, something of a rarity. One survey of book clubs in Britain indicated that out of 50,000 such groups, almost 70 per cent were women-only. And just four per cent of book clubs were composed solely of men.
When my friend Bill mentioned he’s in a men’s book club, I was intrigued. I like reading books, particularly fiction. It’s fun discussing novels; the problem is, not many people read fiction.
Of those who do, relatively few are men. Some estimates suggest the fiction-buying market is 80 per cent women.
I asked Bill if I could come to a meeting of his book club. The club took a vote and said OK.
How to dress for a men’s book club meeting? I figured maybe wear a smoking jacket (I own a Hefner-esque shiny gold one) and emphasize salient points by stabbing the air with a briar-wood pipe.
But my wife said no to the smoking jacket because it makes me look “unhinged” — so I wore a tennis shirt instead.
The book up for discussion was A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian by Marina Lewycka. Bill lent me his copy.
I’d read just 70 pages, but got the gist of it. An old geezer who’s writing a history of tractors in Ukrainian falls for a voluptuous babe half a century younger than him. His adult daughters disapprove of the relationship, suspecting his girlfriend is a gold-digger.
The men’s reading club meeting was at a home near Estevan Village. The host was a psychotherapist. The members are mostly middle-aged and older. They are middle-class, with backgrounds in business, dentistry, teaching, engineering.
We sat around a coffee table, eating snacks and sipping beer and wine. Each took a polite turn giving his opinion about A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian. There were a few jokey comments. Commenting on the old man character, one guy said deadpan: “He was able to fondle a woman with large breasts at will … and he was happy.”
Overall, the level of discussion was high, even intellectual. Sharp analyses were offered, pertinent points raised. There was thoughtful conversation about the book’s unflattering depiction of Ukrainian immigrants — was the portrayal borderline racist?
This club, Ex Libris (Latin for “from the books”), has met for years. They’ve read a lot of good books, some fiction (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, Richard B. Wright’s Clara Callan) and some non-fiction (the Keith Richards memoir Life and Rebecca Godfrey’s Under the Bridge, about Reena Virk’s murder).
Why are men’s book clubs so rare? It’s said women’s book clubs started out essentially as social occasions for homemakers — but of course, most women work now. In a 1996 article, writer Bob Lamm theorized men tend to regard book clubs as a “feminine” pastime. Not like hockey pools or fly-fishing holidays.
Bill told me he likes the intellectual challenge of book discussions with intelligent men. Also, his wife encouraged him to broaden his interests as an “empty-nester and soon-to-be retiree.”
I certainly enjoyed hanging out with Ex Libris, but left unsure about the notion of a men’s book club. Why not invite a few women along to liven up the proceedings?
And if it is going to be all men, why not go super macho?
Why not read only Hemingway and Jack London, arm wrestle to punctuate intellectual arguments and drink Canadian Club like the mustachioed guy from the TV commercials.
Plus we could wear smoking jackets and smoke briar pipes.
