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

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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

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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

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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.

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

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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

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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.

Getting through it together, one book at a time

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“Lots of time … and I don’t know what I’m doing with it.” That’s how one ruefully bemused silent book club member described what would have been a booklover’s delicious dream not so long ago – hours and days and weeks of unstructured, uncommitted, unscheduled time to just read, read, read …

sbc-apr18-zoom-600

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dawn-image0While we’re all still struggling with the distractions of this strange time, us readers are still meeting, comparing notes, working up the energy to enthuse about the reading delights and victories , getting through it together. When we each click “Leave Meeting” to start our shared hour of reading in spirit, I’m certain we’re all coming away feeling bolstered by the company and encouragement. We need to keep doing this, don’t we?

As I did in our last report, I want to share another appreciation on the value of our group from one of our members. Emilia’s is like a love letter, and while poignant, it sounds beautifully hopeful notes for how we are getting through, and what we will look forward to resuming once this is got through:

Dear lovely SBC people,

I live in books. For me, books have always been an escape, a home, a friend, a salvation, a teacher, a window, a mirror, a hope, and a promise. I taught myself to read when I was 4. I’ve been reading ever since. I cannot stress how truly life-saving this has been.

Another life-saving thing has been to – quite late in life, I feel – begin to consciously and deliberately seek out fellow readers and connect with them. You know how they say you should “step out of your comfort zone” now and then? Well, I had spent most of my life outside of mine. Joining the SBC was a much-needed step back *into* that comfort zone.

And, let me tell you, it felt like stepping into a hot bath after a long hard day. Our meetings are the highlight of my month. Invariably, I look forward to sitting with you in companionable silence, to listening to your bookish adventures and suggestions, and wishing, much like Harry had when he first saw the magic of Diagon Alley, that I “had about eight more eyes”, so that I could read all your fascinating recommendations.

PS. I was a book club virgin before the SBC. Since joining, I’ve also tried a regular book club and, somehow, found it much less satisfactory. All I could think was, “Well, that sure was different. Everyone reading and discussing the same book? Weird!”

While we all remain a little concerned individually that our reading enthusiasm and tempo is suffering these days, collectively we still offer a very heartening cornucopia of books. Here is the latest:

You can always catch up on our previous silent book club meeting reports 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 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 last couple of 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.

Love of reading in the time of corona

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In our previous silent book club report – our first report of this new, uncharted era – I observed how when our reserves of determination, courage and good humour run low, one of the things we celebrated in the old world that can still replenish our spirits in this new world was a good, inspiring, comforting, diverting book. That still holds truth in the most steadfast ways, but I think readers everywhere are struggling and how they read is evolving – maybe temporarily, maybe not. This Twitter thread captures it well:

Readers commenting on twitter

For the foreseeable future, we have the dates of what would have been our in-person silent book club meetings tentatively converted to zoom meetings, ably and gracefully managed by our club’s co-founder, Jo. We do miss Press, the book / record / coffee shop where we usually hold our meetings … and we make a point of swinging by there on late evening dog walks, to make quiet promises that we will return.

Jake the beagle-basset in front of Press books.coffee.vinyl on the Danforth

Prior to everyone sheltering in place (thankfully, with their books and reading devices), some of our silent book club members crafted some appreciations on the value of our group. I intended to share some of them with upcoming meeting reports, and of course, there is no reason not to continue doing that. It’s interesting how some of those appreciations have new meaning in these current circumstances – and I also think they provide signposts for the future. Here is Jo’s tribute:

“Our Silent Book Club has been a real joy for me. I have met wonderful people in my neighbourhood and beyond that I never would have met in any other way. And my reading has been both accelerated and broadened by the wide variety of books that others are reading and commenting on. The wide variety of interests and reading styles (some always finish a book, others give the book 50 pages to prove that it is worth spending time on!) are inspiring. And I deeply appreciate the generosity of people in sharing books they’ve read with others in the group.”

Silent book club meeting shown on computer screen, with stack of book and glass of wine next to computer

In addition to our scheduled meetings, we hosted a pop-up meeting last week, with our regular east end Toronto group and invitations extended to our silent book club compatriots in midtown Toronto and Mississauga. It was wonderful to see everyone pop up on the screen, and to hear their voices and what they had to share. To a person, we commented on our challenges with focusing on our reading balanced with our desire and commitment to continue. While each person remarked that their overall reading was down, in terms of pages, books, focus and so on, collectively we still offer an abundant and heartening harvest of solace, entertainment and new and different worlds in which to dwell – here it is:

See also: The Silent Book Club, a global meet-up for introverts, now connects them remotely by Victoria Namkung (April 10, 2020 in Los Angeles Times)

As always, you can catch up on our previous silent book club meeting reports 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 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 last report 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.

Booklovers in a dangerous time

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We need not recount here how the world – truly and literally the world – has changed. We’re all affected by it and living it. We’re struggling with fear and uncertainty and frustration, and we’re drawing on reserves of determination and courage and even good humour that we perhaps didn’t even know we possessed. When those reserves run low, one of the things we celebrated in the old world that can still replenish our spirits in this new world is a good, inspiring, comforting, diverting book.

As where we could go and what we could do narrowed down more and more each day, our silent book club membership kept in touch by phone and email. We devised a plan that scaled to what we could still safely and reasonably do to keep our book club tradition and its vital connections alive:

1. For this weekend’s silent book club double header, we asked everyone to read in spirit for an hour at the times at which we would have started in person: 10 am on Saturday and 11 am on Sunday.

2. For the Saturday meeting, those of us within walking distance of Press, the book / record / coffee shop where we normally hold our meetings, would meet (exercising proper social distancing) outside the shop at 9:30 am. One by one, we went in the shop to purchase our usual beverages and pastries, as well as some books. (I ended up buying out the remaining day-old scones. One does what one must.) In our email correspondence with club members, we encouraged everyone to drop by on Saturday or Sunday to support Press with purchases, if possible.

Press on the Danforth

Silent book club member on the Danforth

Silent book club member on the Danforth

Silent book club member on the Danforth

Silent book club member on the Danforth

Silent book club member on the Danforth

3. Following the Saturday in spirit reading, we convened online at 11 am to discuss our recent and current reading. One of our members is a facilitator by profession, and she elegantly steered us through the session. She made sure everyone felt comfortable with this technological solution, and steered the meeting so everyone had time to talk about their reading and then we had time to generally chat, in relaxed and genial fashion. It felt as close as I think it could feel to being around our usual table at Press, which was inexpressibly wonderful. I suspect I’m going to fall asleep tonight with the image of that Brady’s Bunch-esque screenful of dear bookish friends before my eyes.

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After our last meeting at Press, I asked a favour of our members to provide a few words on what the silent book club means to them. The intent was to use those words as the introductions to future meeting reports, so these reports open with more of the voices of our group than just me all the darned time.

Todd went above and beyond a few words, with a blog post that made my heart glow when I first read it, and makes me kind of teary-eyed now. This hits hardest:

“The atmosphere is lovely. It isn’t just reminding me of childhood Sustained Silent Reading time at school, I am noticing it is something that I rarely get to experience these days: the experience of sharing comfortable silence with others. Very often with friends and family there’s a sense that if we’re together there must be a conversation happening. This is most definitely not the case here. I’m happy to be in the room with others but I’m also happy to simply be able to read and share space with them.”

Read Todd’s complete, wonderful blog post here.

Todd at silent book club meeting

I will open future reports with other members’ thoughts on their silent book club experiences. There will be future reports because we will meet again, one way or another.

Without further ado, here is this month’s book list, combined of books shared during our virtual session and contributed by members via email.

Selected books lined up

As always, you can catch up on our previous silent book club meeting reports 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 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.

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.

Music For Tigers, by Michelle Kadarusman

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kadarusman-music-for-tigersYoung aspiring musician Louisa isn’t sure about the phrase “fair dinkum” when she visits from Canada and hears her Australian uncle use it in the early days of her visit with him at a camp in the wilds of Tasmania. The phrase signifies not only approval but a warm vote of confidence. It can be applied to many aspects of Governor General’s award nominated author Michelle Kadarusman’s third middle grade novel, Music For Tigers.

Kadarusman weaves beautifully themes and issues such as environmental fragility and protection, understanding and respecting neurodiversity differences, reverence for family and history and more into an engaging and at times suspenseful storyline. Louisa’s initial reluctance about being sent to the family’s remote settlement in Tasmania for the summer gives way to affection for her uncle and neighbours as she learns about their involvement in the preservation of a rare, presumed extinct species of marsupial. Louisa, Uncle Ruff, Mel, who runs a nearby Eco Lodge and her son Colin are all fully realized characters with frailties and charms. Louisa’s ancestors and offstage Canadian family members round out the story with additional insights and emotional underpinnings.

Michelle Kadarusman orchestrates it all with compassion and storytelling verve. Music For Tigers is uniquely good and genuine, truly “fair dinkum” …!

Thank you to Pajama Press and Michelle Kadarusman for providing a review copy of Music For Tigers.

52 Adventures #32: Silent Together

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This blog post originally appeared in Todd Tyrtle’s Go Outside Today blog by Todd Tyrtle blog on February 29, 2020. I’ve gratefully reproduced it here with Todd’s permission.

In the late 1970’s, a new item was added to our elementary school’s daily schedule. “Sustained Silent Reading” or simply “Silent Reading” as the teachers called it. Classes would pause mid-afternoon and the entire class would read silently together – whatever books we liked. The idea was to encourage a love of reading – something I already had a great deal of. So for me, being given 30-40 minutes of my school day several times a week was like a dream come true. The class would become silent save for the occasional sound of a page turning as we all dove in to separate worlds. Some of us would read books from the Weekly Reader Book Club, others books we’d found at the library in the classroom. After some time, our teacher would quietly inform us time was up. Slowly the students would come back. Stuart Little would drive Kathy back to our school in his little car, Mike would wave goodbye to Harriet and Sport and catch a New York subway that mysteriously had a stop in our classroom, and Sam Gamgee and I would finish our second lunch and I’d say goodbye. For the rest of the afternoon, my mood would be influenced by having spent time reading a book I loved.

Decades passed, and during that time my reading waxed and waned with how busy my life was, and lately, how compelling the Internet, my smart phone, and social media were.

Ironically, one day last October my smartphone gave me a notification about a news story. With all of the data Google had, it knew I was heading for India soon and told me that something called a Silent Book Club was now regularly happening in Delhi. The idea was intriguing. Participants meet in a cafe and then, just as I remember doing in 1978, they sit together and silently read. Unlike many book clubs, there is no expectation that everyone will read the same book and discuss it. There is time set aside for optional discussion of books that everyone is reading and of course before or after the event itself, participants can socialize freely.

I did not find time to visit the club in Delhi, however I was very excited to read more about it. The idea, described on their website as “Introvert Happy Hour”, started in San Francisco 2012 and has since spread to dozens of cities in thirty countries.

In January I meet up with the Toronto chapter which meets at a bookstore / cafe / record store called Press Books, Coffee, and Vinyl, a cozy spot smelling of a delicious combination of used books and coffee. Several tables are pushed together with space for about a dozen people. I’m warmly welcomed by Vicki, the organizer, and introduced to several of the other participants. I grab a coffee and a scone and take a seat.

Press on the Danforth, Toronto (Photo by Todd Tyrtle)

Though I’d read some time ago about the Toronto chapter’s activities, I’d forgotten the agenda and was a bit taken off guard by the format. Every meeting starts by going around the table. Each participant introduces themselves and then has 2-3 minutes to talk about what they’ve read recently and what they are planning on reading today. I quickly make a few notes about what I had read earlier in the month and in December and then listen in to everyone else’s impressions of what they’d read recently. The diversity of books was so interesting and inspiring. (You can see a full list at the Silent Book Club’s entry for my first visit here). Up until now I haven’t had a chance to talk to many other people about what they’re reading and so I’ve relied on following my own whims as to what I generally enjoy. This has meant reading so many travel memoirs, a little self-improvement non-fiction, a tiny bit of history, and the occasional fiction piece. Hearing about the great reads everyone else was enjoying is doing an excellent job of getting me out of the literary echo chamber I’d put myself in.

After everyone has had their chance to talk about the books they’d recently been spending time inside, it is time to read. We all go silent and I notice that Joni Mitchell has been playing on the cafe’s turntable. The atmosphere is lovely. It isn’t just reminding me of childhood Sustained Silent Reading time at school, I am noticing it is something that I rarely get to experience these days: the experience of sharing comfortable silence with others. Very often with friends and family there’s a sense that if we’re together there must be a conversation happening. This is most definitely not the case here. I’m happy to be in the room with others but I’m also happy to simply be able to read and share space with them.

Fifty-five minutes in to the reading, Vicki gently raps on the table signaling that we have five minutes left before our hour of reading together is up. I appreciate this little bit of notice as it allows me to gently return from my read. The five minutes pass quickly and we end the session with a series of photos of us with our books for sharing on the Toronto Silent Book Club blog – anonymized to preserve everyone’s privacy. I’m less concerned about my own privacy so I have a second photo taken that clearly shows me with my read.

Todd Tyrtle and book at February 2020 silent book club meeting

For the curious – that book was hit and miss. There were some fantastic stories – and others that left me cold.
I have been to one more Silent Book Club meeting since then – this time with Sage who enjoyed it tremendously. The biggest thing I notice after this experience is how much I have enjoyed rediscovering reading. Over the past several weeks since the first meeting, I have read literally hundreds of pages more than I was regularly reading. And the more I spend reading, the more I notice others doing the same. A few mornings ago I had an impromptu “silent book club” experience at 6:00 AM on the bus as I joined a line of three other people all in a row reading our books together.

This experience, along with my visit back to 1987, has created ripples throughout my life well beyond this – watch for an entry on this subject in the very near future.

If you’re inspired to find a Silent Book Club chapter in your own area, check out the Silent Book Club map. And if there isn’t one, learn how to start your own here. To my friends in India: take note – there aren’t many chapters there yet, but I have readers in both Delhi and Bangalore (including HSR Layout and Whitefield) who may enjoy visiting those events. If you do, please share what it’s like – I’m very curious to hear how the chapters differ).