A chapter for community.
Last year, some of my lovely friends decided to start a book club. As an avid reader I was all over this idea, but I had no idea how much I would end up loving our little club. Book club, I came to learn, was equally as much about literature as it was about community. Encapsulating girlhood through tea, home-made cookies, and slow burning candles.
The intentionality behind the meetings became something to look forward to – to chat about the complexity of the prose or complain about the author. I know that these evenings will be something I find nostalgic later on in life, partially because I already feel nostalgic over the cozy evenings.
Book club has encouraged me to read books outside of what I would normally pick up off the shelf and have people to talk about books I love with. It often ends up being a great gateway to regular conversation and makes me appreciate the lives and perspectives around me.
Book club has strengthened my sense of community. We get together every month as the seasons morph and melt into one another. It feels quite adult-ish, but it’s kind of nice in that way. Using our free will to read and challenge ourselves is adult-ish-so I suppose it fits well.
This small group of friends has pulled me out of my house in the dreaded winter and into the chatter of life and the laughter of monologue-readings.
Book club is genuinely a dose of joy, and I am so grateful for its members <3