As an author, what’s not to love about book clubs? They involve copious amounts of wine, lots of intelligent conversation (some of it even about books), and women.
If the photo above is anything to go by, book clubs also do strange things to your hand too, but we’ll gloss over that for now.
Despite its members being Cambridge graduates, gene therapists, vets and librarians, those of them that had actually seen a copy of Six Months to Get a Life seemed to enjoy reading it. Mind you, they did name their book club after a penis, so maybe we shared a similar sense of humour.
I promised the members of Ralph (read Judy Blume’s Forever) that I would blog about my interaction with their book club. Unfortunately I drank so much wine over the course of the evening that I haven’t got a clue what went on. Hopefully the below excerpt from the book club scene…
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