In literature, I’ve often read about all these wonderful book clubs that are formed, as it seems, on a whim and how they come around to be such full parts of the characters’ lives, alive, breathing & even opinioned, almost like a character itself. And how these book clubs change the lives of all the people who are (a) in it and (b) somewhat related to the ones in it. I’m not talking about any monumental changes… even the slightest bit of a possibility of believing in new things or seeing things even a shade differently is change big enough. Some of the books where the book clubs have proved to be such an instant hit are Jane Austen Book Club (heck, I even love the movie!), The Guernsey Literary & Potato Peel Pie Society and Reading Lolita in Tehran. In all these books, the characters form a book club almost, as it were, to escape or break the spell of the mundane and misery from their lives. And they succeed… even if it’s for a few hours. The point is that they succeed.

But that’s fiction. In real life, or I should probably say my real life, forming a book club seems like such a distant dream that it almost seems like a crazy whim of mine like wanting to go visit Narnia for a vacation. You see, I wanted that…I wanted to be eagerly discussing books that I like because I like them & not because its been assigned to me because “it should be” and without the pressure of being constantly aware that I am going marked on it.

 I, along with Hugzy, tried to form a book club about a year and half back. Safe to say that it bombed. Big time. Another thing that I notice is that in the books about the book clubs, some of the members (if not all) are hesitant about wanting to joining the book club, often because it doesn’t fit in their busy schedule & most obviously because some do not like to read for fun. But in the end, or in fact the very beginning, they all come to the meetings anyways and make a huge success of the book club. Yeah, so in my attempt of setting up the book club, the opposite happened. Many people seemed all gaga about the idea as if reading anything ever written by Jane Austen was the sole purpose for their existence and in the end, they all backed out.

I think it’s a good time to tell you that Jane Austen Book Club inspired that book club. With minor changes. To begin with, we were planning to do all the works by Jane Austen (think: Lady Susan, Sandition, The Watsons). We were going to meet at a central location because most of us 20-something-year-olds in New Delhi still live with out parents. We were going to watch all these movies on Jane Austen and on stuff inspired from her books. We were going to read stuff like Pride & Prejudice and the Zombies. You get the picture. So yes, anyways, I tried trending whether there was anyone who wanted to or knew anyone who wanted to join a book club on Jane Austen. I got replies. I will not get into details but the bottom line is that we didn’t even have a single meeting.

Not that I blame anyone. We do not live in a book (even though Reading Lolita in Tehran is a true story) the fact is that most people do not want to sacrifice their Saturdays into sitting in a group & talking about books.

That was, as I mentioned, about a year and half ago. Now, I want to again give the book club a shot. Except that this time it will not be on Jane Austen but on anything in fiction. And once again, I’ve people who tell me that of course they’ll make it to the meetings!

Well, fingers crossed for this time.

PS—If you are (or you know anyone who would be) interested in joining this half baked plan of a book club, please contact me.