Monthly Archives: May 2020

A silent book club meeting to make a pandemic-weary heart sing

The sun shines, at least figuratively, any day that includes a silent book club meeting. That the sun actually shone this morning as we all prepared for today’s meeting was every reader’s favourite example of pathetic fallacy. Even though the bulk of the meeting was, as it has been for a while, online … the fact that (yes, Ducks, Newburyport was mentioned briefly today!) the sun shone as a few of us in the neighbourhood met for a physically distanced catch-up outside Press, the book / record / coffee shop, our pre-pandemic (and we hope post-pandemic) meeting place.

You can’t see it, but I was grinning from ear to ear as I got ready for that visit.

Vicki gets ready to meet her silent book club friends

You also can’t see the smiles of our silent book club friends, but trust they were there as we enjoyed some neighbourly chat and showed off some of the books that are helping us through this challenging time.

Jo at the physically distanced silent book club meetup at Press

Kathy at the physically distanced silent book club meetup at Press

Catherine at the physically distanced silent book club meetup at Press

Sue at the physically distanced silent book club meetup at Press

While we’ve comisserated about the pandemic’s effects on our ability to concentrate and read, it’s been reassuring to see the tide gently turn over the course of our recent silent book club meetings to how our reading is influencing our thinking about current and future circumstances. One member talked about how he has been pondering his love of travel, how that is going to change post-pandemic and, interestingly, how a recent read has reframed some things for him. He described the children’s book The 79 Squares by Malcolm J. Bosse, in which an unlikely friendship develops between a troubled 14-year-old boy and an 82-year-old man:

“The old man introduces his new friend to the natural beauty and life of the garden in which he now spends most of his time. He instructs Eric to divide the garden into 79 squares, asking that the boy spend one hour a day in each square and watch life unfold — from the ant to the squirrel.” (from 1979 New York Times review)

Our silent book club friend commented on how that premise compelled him to consider the city block around his home, to travel it and examine it with the same attention as he would more far flung places. What revelations our reading provides us with, perhaps when we least expect it.

No matter how enthusiastic (or not) each of us is about technology, we all have misgivings about the amount of screen time pervading our lives. That said, I think all or most of us would agree that technology has helped to keep us in vital communication with each other, for business, community and personal reasons. As “zoomed out” as a lot of us are, we still don’t want to miss our family gatherings, yoga classes and book club discussions and even silent reading sessions.

What I’ve been delighted to discover is how we can “dial down” the technology, but still use it to allow people to stay “dialed in”, even blending in non-digital forms of communication to stitch it all together. For this latest zoom meeting of our book club, we invited participants in by good old landline phone – and I even extended the invitation to one participant with a handwritten note delivered to the mailbox on her front porch:

Handwritten invitation to a zoom book club meeting

After leaving her that note a few days ago, it felt like a special kind of magic to hear her voice during today’s zoom meeting.

The fleeting, distanced visits connect us. The zoom meetings connect us. And our eclectic, lovingly assembled book list connects us to each other and to all other readers out there, getting through all of what we’re all getting through right now.

You can always catch up on our previous silent book club meeting reports (our current online incarnation and our previous, lovingly recalled, much anticipated again in-person version) and book lists here.

We’re pleased and honoured to have been interviewed about the silent book club concept and how to start a club of one’s own. You can check out links to articles, CBC Radio interviews and more here – some with San Francisco-based Silent Book Club founders Guinevere de La Mare and Laura Gluhanich, and some with us here in east end Toronto.

Under the current circumstances, this text I put at the end of each silent book club report isn’t entirely applicable, but I’m still going to repeat it with continued optimism anyhow:

If you’ve so far enjoyed the silent book club experience virtually, are you tempted to experience it firsthand? Via Guinevere and Laura’s Silent Book Club web site, you can find information on meetings happening around the world and close to where you live. If you’re interested in starting your own silent book club or are in the Toronto area and perhaps interested in checking ours out, check out the resources on the Silent Book Club web site, or please feel free to contact me for more information.

And the sign-off from our recent reports is, I think, still very applicable:

We will wait until we can again fling open our doors, venture out and gather in our communities. A silent book club meeting with friends and neighbours, held at and in support of a local business exemplifies exactly the kinds of freedoms we are foregoing now to get through these unsettled and unsettling times … and is where we’re all going to want to be when we get through this. Read well where you are now, be well and let books buoy your spirits, put the current situation in perhaps new and fresh contexts, and make the time pass swiftly.

Getting our reading mojo working again … with a little help from our silent book club friends

As we observed – in Brady Bunch zoom formation – in recent online silent book club meetings, reading just doesn’t feel the same or offer the same solace and escape as it did before the world changed as it did. But by meeting and commiserating and try try trying again, we’re finding the words and the pieces and the books that are getting us back to what we love. And by getting back to what we love, we’re equipping ourselves to cope with whatever version of so-called normal comes next.

During our latest silent book club meeting, scheduled as a surprise “pop-up” outside of our usual schedule that everyone seemed to appreciate, we shared the ways in which we’re working to get back into satisfying reading grooves. One approach that seems to be working is rereading past favourites. Interestingly, it seems to be the comfort of the familiar, although not necessarily comfort reads per se that is clicking. For example, a couple of us coincidentally are rereading the short story collection The Progress of Love by Canada’s Nobel Prize-winning Alice Munro – and oh, what we’re discovering/rediscovering! Ms Munro is a truly wicked and incisive observer of human nature, and of the passions and frustrations that swim not far beneath the benign and mundane surfaces of the everyday. And oh, how bracing and energizing it is to return 20 (er, or more) years later to reread what captivated the first time with age and gained experience and, of course, wisdom.

Silent book club members have always touted the magic of certain magazines – particularly for long form pieces and journalism – for keeping up one’s reading momentum and enthusiasm. The New Yorker and The Economist are favourites, and others have mentioned and shared copies of West End Phoenix, Arc Poetry, The Walrus and Popshot Quarterly, among others.

Here’s a little bit of what and where our silent book club members are reading right now:

Beth's favourite reading spot

Jo's books and favourite reading spot

Liza reading Don Quixote

Rick's recent reading

Ruth's recent reading

Sue and one of her current reads

Vicki's books, reading spot and reading companion

Book-oriented puzzles help, too ...

While we all remain a little concerned individually that our reading enthusiasm and tempo is not quite what it was (but hey, it’s never been a competition), our aggregate book list is still rich, formidable and gorgeous. Here is the latest:

As always, you can catch up on our previous silent book club meeting reports (from our current online incarnation and our previous and lovingly recalled and anticipated again in-person version) and book lists here.

We’re pleased and honoured to have been interviewed about the silent book club concept and how to start a club of one’s own. You can check out links to articles, CBC Radio interviews and more here – some with San Francisco-based Silent Book Club founders Guinevere de La Mare and Laura Gluhanich, and some with us here in east end Toronto.

Under the current circumstances, this text I put at the end of each silent book club report isn’t entirely applicable, but I’m going to repeat it with continued optimism anyhow:

If you’ve so far enjoyed the silent book club experience virtually, are you tempted to experience it firsthand? Via Guinevere and Laura’s Silent Book Club web site, you can find information on meetings happening around the world and close to where you live. If you’re interested in starting your own silent book club or are in the Toronto area and perhaps interested in checking ours out, check out the resources on the Silent Book Club web site, or please feel free to contact me for more information.

And the sign-off from our recent reports is, I think, still very applicable:

We will wait until we can again fling open our doors, venture out and gather in our communities. A silent book club meeting with friends and neighbours, held at and in support of a local business exemplifies exactly the kinds of freedoms we are foregoing now to get through these unsettled and unsettling times … and is where we’re all going to want to be when we get through this. Read well where you are now, be well and let books buoy your spirits and make the time pass swiftly.