Author Archives: bookgaga

East end Toronto Silent Book Club 3rd anniversary

by Jo Nelson

In August of 2018, three of us, Vicki, Jo, and Kirsten, were among the neighbourhood people gathering in Stephenson Park for Kirsten’s yoga class. Activities in the park were a true local community development initiative catalyzed by Peter Woodcock to address some challenges in the park and community.

As we walked from the park after the class, the three of us got to talking about a book club as another activity to bring the community together. One of us had tried to start a traditional one that didn’t work. Vicki enthusiastically introduced us to the concept of a Silent Book Club, where everyone could read whatever they wanted during the month, we would share our lists with no judgement, and then spend a companionable hour sitting silently together reading. We were inspired and decided to try it, meeting at a neighbourhood used book and record store/coffee shop called Press to support the local economy as well as the cultural aspect of reading!

Press on the outside

Press on the inside

The first meeting had 4 participants, who had read everything from poetry to novels to a car repair manual.

The first meeting of the east end Toronto silent book club, with 4 participants

Through Vicki’s invitations and connections, the group grew exponentially during the first year. Within months, we were beyond our informal beginnings. We found ourselves having to buy more chairs for the coffee shop, and then declaring a limit on numbers that could attend at one time. Vicki organized a central email address and a growing file of members and contact information. She posted stories, photos, and lists of the books we had read in her blog. Eventually media invitations to talk about the club began to come in. From there, several other Silent Book Clubs spun off in other neighbourhoods across Toronto and beyond.

The eclectic interests of the members have inspired many of us to try new authors and genres that we would not have tried on our own. There are a number of books that have been passed from person to person, and sometimes back again. Between us, we have read poetry, non-fiction, historical novels, classic gems such as Little Women and Proust, the entire collection of Louise Penny’s mysteries set in Quebec and Kent Haruf’s stories of a small town in Colorado, graphic novels, women’s adventure stories, Indigenous and Black authors, books about Toronto and by Toronto authors, and young adult fiction. Not to mention the car operation manual!

In addition to meeting at Press, we have enjoyed refreshing summer meetings under the trees in the park.

Silent book club meeting in Stephenson Park

When the lockdown began, we moved our regular meetings to Zoom* with some trepidation but unwillingness to let the connections go. In addition, we created pop-up weeknight special meetings mid-month on Zoom. The connection and support of these meetings has sustained us through the uncertainty of the pandemic.

Silent book club on zoom

And we have discovered joy in the new friends we have made, both the fictional ones and the other readers.

So here’s to the joy of the last 3 years, and to the next 3 years and more!

Sue R and some of her reading

* I had to jump into Jo’s article here to point out that she administers and chairs the Zoom meetings with aplomb and a steady hand!

Going anywhere and everywhere with our books, while being anywhere and everywhere with our fellow booklovers

We all know what can happen with the best laid plans, don’t we? What we pondered at length last month with respect to resuming some semblance of in-person silent book club meetings was done so seasoned with the generous grains of salt we’ve learned to wield with all plans made during a pandemic.

Fortunately, not all best laid plans automatically go awry, either. We didn’t get to meet as we’d anticipated, but we did get to meet in ways we’ve come to expect and enjoy … and in ways we didn’t quite expect that we enjoyed immensely. This picture says it all.

Silent book club in the park

Yes, we did get to gather in the park again – bundled up and expecting it might be brisk, and being blessed with a moderate, sunny, downright lovely afternoon. And no, we didn’t get to gather at our local venue, Press, but several of us stopped there before the park meeting for takeout hot beverages. While we sat in the park with the sun beaming down – which was splendid to share with neighbours walking dogs, exercising and playing ultimate frisbee, tennis and ping pong, and more – I imagined that same sunshine streaming through the windows of the rest of our group’s homes, where those not joining us in the park were observing their respective hours of silent reading.

Silent book club member's books

Silent book club member's books

Silent book club member's books

Silent book club member's books

Silent book club in the park

Silent book club member in the park

Silent book club member in the park

Silent book club member in the park

Silent book club member in the park

Silent book club member in the park

Silent book club member in the park

Any chance Mother Nature could gift us one more such golden day in November …? We came away hoping and planning our bookish plans for next month.

Between our zoom and park meetings, we’ve amassed another gorgeously overflowing list of books. The titles featured in each report combine print and digital versions of books, along with audiobooks (which are indicated separately).

We continue to share our group’s successes and delights with readers around the world.

Silent book clubs are showing that reading alone, together, is good for us
by Kasia Delgado, iNews UK
September 29, 2020

We’re entering month 7 of the global pandemic and reflecting on how it has changed us. #silentbookclub looks different now. In Torino and Toronto (pictured) readers gather in person, outside, safely distanced, with masks.
from Silent Book Club on Instagram
September 28, 2020

Our previous silent book club meeting reports (online and in-person incarnations) and book lists are here.

You can also 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.

Learn more about silent book clubs 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. Some clubs are currently on haitus, but many are running virtual meetings in different formats. Please feel free to contact me for more information about our club and its offerings.

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, gather in the ways that are safe and make most sense, including virtually. Be well and let books buoy your spirits, make our ever changing and challenging circumstances more tolerable, and make the time pass swiftly.

Our silent book club, comfortingly constant and constantly adapting

As I mentioned in our last silent book club report (just a week ago when a modest contingent of us had a physically distanced but still vitally connected park meeting) we’re making tentative plans to return to our original silent book club venue. We’ve discussed with the venue what an optimal group size would be, the venue is attentively figuring out how to accommodate our request for a location for our table that will put us out of the way of other customers, we’re planning to visit again to test the wifi and work out the logistics of a hybrid in-person and zoom meeting …

It’s all being done collaboratively with thought and care, but who knows if we’ll actually be able to do it? Daily coronavirus case numbers are worryingly on the rise again in our area, and restrictions are being reapplied to private gathering numbers. Will that change for other types of gatherings? Dare we hope otherwise? However we hope and however the numbers look week after week, how are we simply going to feel? What feels reasonable and safe? That is constantly changing, and we’re all dealing with that change as best we can, but with differing results from day to day, week to week and month to month.

On one hand, how our book club will meet next is perhaps among the least of our worries. On the other hand, how our book club will continue in the weeks and months to come might help us to cope with the worst of our worries. Our beloved books, the themes and ideas and worlds and comforts and diversions they offer us, and the discussion, fellowship and encouragement of other booklovers might be what sustains us. That is what I was reminded of – profoundly – during today’s meeting, which returned to the online formula that has worked well for us in recent months. And that’s it, fundamentally – that’s the message. Our silent book club group, however we’ve managed to assemble, has remained comfortingly constant and is committed to constantly adapting. I sensed and heard real commitment to maintaining that constancy, in whatever form makes sense and feels right.

What we discussed during this gathering is a vibrant and varied cornucopia of reading and related treasures. The titles featured in each report combine print and digital versions of books, along with audiobooks (which are indicated separately). Not only that, but this collection includes magazines, podcasts, documentaries and web resources, all with literary connections.

Computer and chair on bunkie porch, preparing for silent book club zoom meeting

I took part in the zoom meeting from the porch of our cottage bunkie. The temperature by the lake this morning was 6 degrees Celsius at the start of the meeting, rising to a balmy 9 degrees by the end of the meeting. I dressed warmly, put on gloves briefly at one point and had a blanket on stand-by. The point of the exercise was to test if I could last through a whole meeting in cool autumn conditions, with the possibility I could encourage others to enjoy me for one more meeting in the park in October. I’m game if some of my fellow booklovers are!

All Canadian issue of Granta magazine

Silent book club member's beautiful book nook

Me on screen for silent book club

Zoom screenful of silent book club members

Our previous silent book club meeting reports (online and in-person incarnations) and book lists are here.

You can also 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.

Learn more about silent book clubs 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. Some clubs are currently on haitus, but many are running virtual meetings in different formats. Please feel free to contact me for more information about our club and its offerings.

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, gather in the ways that are safe and make most sense, including virtually. Be well and let books buoy your spirits, make our ever changing and challenging circumstances more tolerable, and make the time pass swiftly.

Gathering, with books and friends, at a turning point

Ours was a small but mighty gathering of members of the east end Toronto silent book club. We’ve been fortunate this summer to escape some of the pervasive pandemic isolation with some modestly sized and physically distanced book club meetings under the trees at the south end of Stephenson Park, a neighbourhood oasis. We’ve managed well-attended zoom sessions once or twice a month since the March lockdown – and those have been lively and ameliorating and gratifying – but the park gatherings have felt particularly vital and connecting. Sharing our books and reading together is what fundamentally drew us all together to begin with, didn’t it?

With hints of autumn in the air and tickling the leaves, it felt like this might be our last chance to meet in the park. Not only does it feel like we’re at a seasonal turning point, but who knows what turns and twists are ahead in the situation we’re all facing right now? It was some solace to see friends, and to share not only our recent reading but our recent and upcoming home and work and family challenges ahead, all tinged with the unknown.

We’re making tentative plans to return to our original silent book club venue, with a smaller and physically distanced in-person component complemented with an extended online component. It’s all being done with thought and care, but who knows if we’ll actually be able to do it? Is it possible we’ll be reverting and retreating as the days grow shorter? Dare we hope otherwise?

On one hand, how our book club will meet next is perhaps among the least of our worries. On the other hand, how our book club will continue in the weeks and months to come might help us – even just a bit – to cope with the worst of our worries. The world of our books and the fellowship and encouragement of other booklovers might be what sustains us.

sbc-sep12-tshirt-600

Is this T-shirt not simply perfect? Thanks to silent book club member Emilia for attending an earlier meeting sporting this wonderful garment, and sharing the key link that means we can all purchase our own here.

sbc-sep12-lyla-600

sbc-sep12-ruth-600

sbc-sep12-beth-600

sbc-sep12-group-600

sbc-sep12-group-trees-600

sbc-sep12-books-600

Because the group was smaller this time, our combined reading list is somewhat more modest than usual, but still filled with wonder and gorgeousness and diversity. The list will blossom further in just a week, when a larger group of us meets again online.

Our previous silent book club meeting reports (online and in-person incarnations) and book lists are here.

You can also 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.

Learn more about silent book clubs 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. Some clubs are currently on haitus, but many are running virtual meetings in different formats. Please feel free to contact me for more information about our club and its offerings.

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, gather in the ways that are safe and make most sense, including virtually. Be well and let books buoy your spirits, make our ever changing and challenging circumstances more tolerable, and make the time pass swiftly.

Vital online and offline book exchanges

We aimed, as we’ve done for the last couple of months, to have a two-part silent book club meeting today, first on zoom, then a bit later with a smaller group in person in our local park. Capricious weather cues and conflicting forecasts forced us to call off the much anticipated park visit. As disappointing as that was, the vitality of our zoom meeting – brimming with great reading and listening recommendations and stimulating discussion – was palpable and clearly savoured by all.

While the connections this month were largely online, our trusted recommendation network of book club friends keeps buzzing offline. That network extends to physically distanced discussions and book exchanges. We’re meeting and dropping books off at each other’s homes, and we’re spurring each other to head to library branches and bookstores, and to borrow and purchase online. In bookish terms, our “new normal” is a hybrid of online and offline opportunities to continue to boost and share our collective love of reading … something that has helped, in no small part, to navigate the many “new normals” with which we’re all contending.

Silent book club zoom group

Silent book club member reads The Library Book by Susan Orlean

Here is our brimming, buzzing, lively combined reading list for this month. The titles featured each month combine print and digital versions of books, along with audiobooks (which are indicated separately).

Our previous silent book club meeting reports (online and in-person incarnations) and book lists are 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.

Learn more about silent book clubs 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. Some clubs are currently on haitus, but many are running virtual meetings in different formats. Please feel free to contact me for more information about our club and its offerings.

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, gather in the ways that are safe and make most sense, including virtually. Be well and let books buoy your spirits, make our ever changing and challenging circumstances more tolerable, and make the time pass swiftly.

Online and tree-lined silent book club meetings

Many have likened their isolated pandemic days to the movie Groundhog Day, where every day repeats of the last and it all becomes a seemingly endless, blurry loop. But just as the protagonist of that movie works to break out of that loop and emerges a better person, the repetition of our current days is not without its benefits as we iterate and improve upon what turns out to be important. In its modest way, how we’ve modified our silent book club gatherings has broken many of us out of the distracted loops that have affected our beloved reading practices, and have helped to sustain us through the day after day of the current situation.

We repeated again this month what we did last month, a two-part silent book club meeting. We started online with a zoom meeting …

Stack of books read by silent book club members

Stack of books, cup of coffee, dog calendar, computer screen showing me getting ready for book club zoom meeting

… and then some carried on offline with their silent reading at home, and some of us gathered for a physically distanced gathering in a tree-lined neighbourhood park.

Silent book club members, physically distanced, in the park

Silent book club member reading

Silent book club member reading

Silent book club member reading

Silent book club member reading

Silent book club member reading

Silent book club member reading

Silent book club member reading

Silent book club member with great bookish T-shirt

Silent book club member reading

(It was, by the way, utterly glorious under those trees. It was a 30 degrees C + day in Toronto, but it was noticeably several degrees cooler under the trees. The park grass right up to the trees was parched, but was still green right under the trees. In addition to the breeze swirling in the treetops, an occasional GO train passing on the tracks just south of the park also stirred up the air pleasantly and, surprisingly, did not distract from our reading. And oh, did I mention the beautiful hawk swooping overhead …?)

During both parts of today’s meeting, many members remarked that their usual reading tempos were returning. The rich and bountiful collected reading list which follows is clear testament to our rejuvenated concentration and enthusiasm.

The titles featured each month combine print and digital versions of books, along with audiobooks (which are indicated separately). Interestingly, our members who particularly enjoy audiobooks (one member distinguishes when she has read a book “audio’ly”) regularly read and compare the print to the audio editions of a book, often with different reviews.

Our previous silent book club meeting reports (online and in-person incarnations) and book lists are 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.

Learn more about silent book clubs 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. Some clubs are currently on haitus, but many are running virtual meetings in different formats. Please feel free to contact me for more information about our club and its offerings.

We’re starting to meet again in person, modestly and very cautiously, but not without justifiable trepidation that warrants alternative ways of gathering. 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, gather in the ways that are safe and make most sense, including virtually. Be well and let books buoy your spirits, make our ever changing and challenging circumstances more tolerable, and make the time pass swiftly.

A Gentleman in Moscow, by Amor Towles

I’m very pleased to welcome back again guest reviewer Mary Schulz. Mary is a treasured friend and neighbour, a silent book club stalwart and life force and a discerning reader who articulates beautifully how a book captures her interest (or doesn’t, as the case may be). She most recently reviewed Finding Meaning: the Sixth Stage of Grief, by David Kessler. She returns with thoughtful and beautiful observations about a beloved novel this time, one that happens to have captivated several readers in our silent book club. Before we enjoy her review, allow me to reprise Mary’s bio:

Mary Schulz, a Social Worker by background, has enjoyed a rich and rewarding career in virtually all areas of health care, focusing primarily on the care of older adults, including those living with dementia. Now that that period of her life has come to a satisfying close, she is figuring out what the next phase of life may bring. Happily, books play a huge part in this, as entertainment, escape, instruction and catalyst for reflection.

A Gentleman in Moscow, by Amor Towles

Perhaps I am old fashioned, but I think our world needs more characters who live their lives with grace and a philosophy of treating every person they meet – regardless of occupation, cultural background, net worth or social standing – with dignity and genuine curiousity. Of all the attributes one might ascribe to Count Alexander Ilyich Rostov in Amor Towles’ novel, A Gentleman in Moscow (2016), these are two of the most endearing.

For those of you who have not yet read this captivating novel, you are in for a treat. In 1922, Rostov is condemned to exile in an iconic Moscow hotel, The Metropol, as a consequence of having written a “subversive poem”.

Now I realize that being exiled to a luxurious “grande dame” of a hotel, complete with waiters, a renowned restaurant, top flight entertainment and well stocked bar may not sound like much of a hardship. But we soon realize that Count Rostov is relegated to a closet sized chamber (literally) and stepping outside the hotel’s doors even for the briefest breath of fresh air puts him at risk of being shot. We come to understand that freedom, even when realized in the most humble surroundings, is preferable to imprisonment in a palace.

The novel advances in part through story lines that cleverly bridge Rostov’s earlier life in the genteel company of his beloved sister and grandmother at their country estate with his current life in the Metropol. The reader is advised to pay close attention to Rostov’s seemingly innocuous musings and reminiscences as they tend to have relevance later on in the novel. Nothing is introduced in this story without a reason.

This book is, at its heart, a testament to the strength of the human spirit and of community. Despite bouts of understandable despair, Rostov’s warm and often unlikely relationships with individual hotel staff and key guests sustain him. And is this not a fundamental truth for most of us? Who among us has not come to realize, with fresh eyes, how interconnected we all are? Rostov’s genuine interest in others enables him to navigate and find meaning in a world replete with apparatchiks and artists, seamstresses and starlets – none of whom is any more instrumental to the plot than another. When a young girl comes into his life, Rostov’s bemused interactions with her highlight how a child is a creature as foreign to him as the prospect of enjoying dinner without a precisely paired glass of wine.

And just where, as a member of the cossetted Russian elite, did Rostov acquire his varied survival skills? It is here where so much of the magic and charm of this novel rests. We are reminded that the world functions most effectively when good manners, grace and kindness preside. For example, it is proven to us without any doubt that drawing up a dining table seating plan of potential allies, lovers and foes requires at least as deft a hand, and has the potential for at least as deadly consequences as drafting a military plan of attack.

Towles has studied hard to understand not just the history but the very soul of Russia and her people. Key figures in Russian art, music and history such as Pushkin, Tolstoy and Chekhov are brought into conversations as though they were characters being invited to pull up a chair. One notes with interest how similar Count Alexander Ilyich Rostov’s name is to that of Leo Tolstoy’s character in War and Peace, Count Nikolai Ilyich Rostov. A coincidence? I think not. There are no coincidences in this finely crafted tale.

Now if all of this sounds quite heavy and ponderous, take heart. One of Rostov’s most charming qualities is his ability not only to laugh at himself, his country and fellow countrymen (within reason, of course) but also to note the absurdity of so many events that transpire around him. He is a witty character indeed!

This novel has it all – a tableau of diverse characters whom we come to care about deeply, historical people and events as signposts for daily life, life and death struggles, humour and pathos.

And it is Count Rostov who challenges us to reflect on how we would fare if put in a similar situation. Would we be as determined, disciplined, accepting, gracious and yet driven to orchestrate our best possible life? This is a quietly hopeful novel with much to teach us about the power and grace of the human spirit.

Silent book club meetings and cooling shade on a hot summer day

Yes, meetings … we enjoyed two silent book club meetings in one day today. Each in their way was the pleasurable sanctuary of deep, green shade on a brilliantly hot summer day.

We started – as many book clubs, yoga classes, family get-togethers, not to mention corporate meetings, seminars and more do these days – on zoom. Coffee cups dipped in and out of the screens as we shared our latest reading, from home offices and living rooms and, delightfully more and more, from sunny balconies and backyards. The collective book list is gradually blossoming as we increasingly vanquish the distraction many of us have been suffering these pandemic days.

(Glenn Sumi of Now Magazine recently offered these excellent insights into the science behind why it’s so hard to read a book right now. I was happy to commiserate with Glenn about this reading affliction as he was researching the article.)

Silent book club zoom meeting, with books and coffee cup next to computer

Books and cat

Silent book club selections

Silent book club selections

Silent book club member reading at her cottage

With the warm discussions and connections of our zoom session still aglow in heads and hearts, a handful of us then made our way to the park for a cautious but eagerly anticipated in-person gathering for some silent reading under the trees. Packing for this outing was a little more complicated than usual …

Packing for silent book club meeting in the park

… but with a mask and hand sanitizer in the book bag, that meant I could stop in at our much-missed book club venue, Press books. coffee. vinyl. to pick up an iced coffee on the way to the park.

Silent book club member reading in the park

Silent book club member reading in the park

Silent book club member reading in the park

Silent book club member reading in the park

Silent book club member's feet next to her books and beverage

It was modest, it was physically distanced but it was so very wonderful to gather some of our silent book club friends to finally, companionably, utterly luxuriously enjoy our reading on the grass, in the gorgeous shade, in each other’s bookish company once again. (I’m getting a little verklempt just typing these words …) Our future discussions and compiled reading lists will probably continue to happen in part virtually, but nothing can be compared to the in real life company of fellow booklovers and friends.

You can always catch up on our previous silent book club meeting reports (our online and in-person incarnations) 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.

The text I usually put at the end of each report still isn’t entirely applicable, but I’m still going to repeat it with continued optimism:

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.

The sign-off from our recent reports is, I think, evolving and still very applicable:

We will wait until we can again fling open our doors, venture out and gather in our communities. We’re starting to do that cautiously, but not without justifiable trepidation that warrants alternative ways of gathering. 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, gather in the ways that are safe and make most sense, including virtually. Be well and let books buoy your spirits, make our ever changing and challenging circumstances more tolerable, and make the time pass swiftly.

Bookish calm in the midst of the storm

I prepared for our latest silent book club online meeting in the midst of a literal storm. Rain was pelting down and the lights were flickering. I was so keen to do what I could to be connected again with my fellow readers that I had a candle nearby, battery backup on alert for my laptop and my phone at the ready to use as a wifi hotspot if our home internet connection dropped.

Me, getting ready for a silent book club zoom meeting, with my stack of books, glass of wine and a candle

As I prepared, and then joined the zoom session with happiness and relief, I considered how the meeting was like a calm in the midst of the storm – in many ways, and in the midst of several storms. The continued waves of uncertainty, frustration, ennui and sadness with which we’re all contending during the pandemic are a form of roiling storm. And now, the veritable tsunami of protests around the world against racism and police brutality, and how these necessary upheavals compel us to confront our own biases and deficits of knowledge and understanding, are a storm like no other.
Reading continues to be a vital part of our way forward to greater understanding, insight, support and respect. Paradoxically, we are navigating these storms together but isolated – which makes our opportunities to connect with each other and with the words and accounts of those experiencing injustice so critical.

This latest meeting had the reassuring constancy of faces and voices, and of discussion that we all welcome and relish. We dedicated time to talking about the storms we’re riding through and out together, and the diverse books that help us with our ongoing education. It was gratifying to realize that numerous titles our group has already discussed and shared are part of that essential syllabus, but also humbling to know that we must constantly expand that list, seek those books, strive for that understanding. So, we will always be looking for eye-opening reading, adding to that list and sharing it, amongst ourselves and with anyone coming to these reports, interested in what we’re reading and discussing.

We debated a bit about whether or not to offer a separate reading list in this report, singling out the works that we’ve found elucidating and/or that we individually and collectively want to commit to reading more of. There are merits to both approaches. A separate list can give emphasis and prominence to titles and subject matter. One blended alphabetical list, as we usually present in our reports, passes no judgement, but indicates that by a title’s presence, it was given attention and consideration by at least one person in our group, and that title was discussed, considered and probably read by others.

Just because we are still largely sheltering in place, does not mean we need to grow complacent and remain in place in terms of our thinking and learning. Diversity should be integral to our reading all the time, never as a required reading / homework assignment type of thing. So, we’ve blended all the titles once again in our (we hope) always capacious, always welcoming, always enlightening book list.

You can always catch up on our previous silent book club meeting reports (our online and in-person incarnations) 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, the text I usually put at the end of each 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.

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.

Finding Meaning: the Sixth Stage of Grief, by David Kessler

I’m beyond thrilled to welcome a new guest reviewer to this blog. Mary is a treasured friend and neighbour, a silent book club stalwart and life force and a discerning reader who articulates beautifully how a book captures her interest (or doesn’t, as the case may be). Before we enjoy her moving review of a book that truly inspired her, here is her bio:

Mary Schulz, a Social Worker by background, has enjoyed a rich and rewarding career in virtually all areas of health care, focusing primarily on the care of older adults, including those living with dementia. Now that that period of her life has come to a satisfying close, she is figuring out what the next phase of life may bring. Happily, books play a huge part in this, as entertainment, escape, instruction and catalyst for reflection.

Click here to learn more about Finding Meaning: the Sixth Stage of Grief, by David KesslerOne cannot get to a certain stage in life without experiencing the death of some of those closest to us. If we are lucky, that experience is not “out of order”, a term I have learned refers to deaths that happen earlier than expected. One also hopes that the experience will be delayed for as long as possible. In my case, the recent deaths of three of my dearest family members were neither out of order nor premature. Does that being comfort? Absolutely. How much? Hmmmm … not so sure. But that said, books written by grief therapists and personal accounts of loss and bereavement all provide ingredients for a new kind of recipe – a “how to” of sorts- everything from realizing you are not the only person who believes you can still hear his key turning in the lock nor are you unique in suddenly marvelling at the sight of people who seem so HAPPY.

I have read many of these books about grief and grieving in the hopes they will shed a light that will enable me to place my feet on the path ahead, even if only for a few measures. Some have spoken to me like a wise friend, testament to this being the glow of yellow highlights throughout their passages (books like Option B by Sheryl Sandberg). Of course some have been quite dreadful. (Spoiler alert. Flip to the back of the book. If the widow/widower ends up remarried just in time to wrap up the book, give it a pass). Surely one of the best is David Kessler’s Finding Meaning: the Sixth Stage of Grief (2019).

David started out in his career as a grief therapist collaborating with Dr Elizabeth Kübler Ross, famous for outlining five stages of death and dying that were modified to help understand stages of grieving, as well. Not to put too fine a point on this achievement, this work changed the way we talk and think about these orphan subjects that are so often the victims of silence, awkward clichés and shame.

The book, Finding Meaning builds on the work of Dr Ross and makes the case that there is a sixth stage to coming to terms with loss and grief, namely that it is in making meaning of a person’s life and death that one is able to build a different life for oneself. Make no mistake; this is not about “moving on”, getting over the loss or forgetting the person. Quite the opposite. As David says, “the funeral ritual is important in witnessing grief because we will grieve alone for the rest of our lives” (page 45). Sound daunting? Yes. But that is the nature of grief. It is daunting. But one learns that grief is love – an extension of love. As surely as love is about skipping down the street, grief is also part of the continuum of love that includes holding hands in the sun during another session of chemotherapy. And because we will hold that love – and therefore grieve – all our lives, making meaning of that love will lessen the suffering and let in some light.

Reading this book is not always easy and it is absolutely do-able to skip specific chapters that deal with the unique losses associated with death by suicide or the death of a child, whether miscarried or in infancy. Most of the content is highly applicable to all types of loss. Strategies for making sense of life after loss are regularly illuminated by helpful case examples, including the author’s own experiences with death and loss.

The book challenges us to think about what possible good can come from loss. This is indeed a challenge and not one most people can even contemplate when their hearts rest in a million pieces. But as the gaping hole starts to be surrounded by some pleasant distractions – the contented fatigue that comes after a long walk, the loving lick from a beloved pet, a laugh with a dear friend – one can start to think about how this loss – which cannot be undone- can bring some good. Perhaps you become a more empathic person. Perhaps you make a point of reaching out right away when you hear of someone else going through a loss. Perhaps you get involved in a community cause. Whatever. The point is that loss and death happen. And when they happen to you, you have choices about how you make meaning of that loss – or not.

Of course not all relationships are loving. The book spends some time talking about finding meaning when there is regret about never having another chance to “make things right” in the relationship. This, too, is reality for many people and the importance of finding meaning in these relationships is no less urgent. At its heart, it seems to be about coming to some peace about what we bring to these relationships and how we tried to make them as good as they could be. And where that didn’t happen? Trying to go forward in life with some new found wisdom and commitment to not repeat the same behaviour in another relationship.

For those of us who have been blessed beyond any reason with immeasurable love in all forms, we accept this gift knowing that the only way to avoid loss is to avoid love. And that is not a life many of us would willingly choose. So David spends a lot of the book debunking myths such as “is there a loss worse than any other?” (Hint: the worse kind of loss is yours. How kind and validating is that?) Or “grief will grow smaller over time” (No such luck. We must grow bigger around the loss, bringing curiosity to the rest of our own life story so that the gaping hole of grief becomes smaller in relation to the other things in our life.) After all, since grief is love and love doesn’t die with the person, it stands to reason that grief does not ever end. And why does this not send us back under the covers? Because those of us who are mourning want to keep the person we have lost very, very close and never lose sight of the love.

Of all the books I have read on a way forward in the midst of soul aching loss and grief, Finding Meaning has been one of the most helpful. No pretense. No quick fixes. No happily ever after. Those of us who are grieving have a well tuned radar for that kind of deception. Instead, the book gives us permission to continue to live our lives infused with love and invites us to dig deeply to find new avenues for making meaning of the love we have been so fortunate to know.