Books in the Belly

On Sunday morning, while reading The Tennessean and having a pleasant time of it, I was reminded of one of those odd articulations between “gender” and “activity” that frustrates the dickens out of me.  There, in the Living section, was a rather lengthy article about book clubs and what amazing communities they help women build.  Could someone please explain why “book clubs” have become so closely articulated to women and why it’s so difficult to break this articulation?

A few months ago, my Bonnie and I were at one of our local bars, having a drink when we ran into a couple we know.  Bonnie and her female counterpart engaged in a conversation about the next book their club was reading.  A light bulb goes off, so I turn to her husband, a guy I’ve gotten to know through conversations over beer now and again, and I say, “Why don’t we start a book club for men in the neighborhood?”  I swear: the guy’s face turned white, and he acted as if I had asked him on a date.

Something is amiss when you ask a guy about reading books, and a moment of homosexual panic breaks out.  And it’s not just this one guy.  Regardless of how I approach the topic, men don’t simply act uninterested; they act as if there is something horribly amiss about the idea.  Guys, we need book clubs; we need them now:

1. We’re starting to fall behind:  As many of you know, women are doing so much better than men in terms of college test scores and admissions that many schools are having to “lower” the standards for men simply to get the gender balance closer to 50-50.  Perhaps we should consider that the peculiar panic that men have around the idea of book clubs is part of the overall problem.
2. Think about the fabric of popular culture:  The more often women choose books, the more often book publishers will publish books that appeal to women.  If you want to see books that appeal to your tastes and sensibilities, you need to buy books that appeal to your taste and sensibilities.
3. Come on . . . it’s not that hard.  If you go to your local book store and look at the stuff most of these book clubs are reading, we’re not talking Ulysses.  Hell, you can call it a book club as long as the reading comes in the form of a book.
4. You get to name the club yourself.  As a result, you can use the name to undermine whatever it is you fear about joining a book club.  Call it the “He-Man Reader’s Club,” “The Angry Bulls Club,” “Ye Olde Powerful Men,” or whatever you prefer. 
5. You don’t even have to read the book:  As far as I can tell, only about 25% of Bonnie’s group ever finish the book.  Sometimes, I hear about book club members “renting” the moving rather than reading the book. 
6. Book clubs are often an excuse for the break out of drinking societies.  Bonnie has hosted her book club before, so I know what I’m talking about.  While she doesn’t allow me in the house when the book club meets, the detritus after the party tells the tale:  dirty wine glasses, full glass recycling bin.  Don’t tell me this is all about reading.  And we don’t have to drink wine; the options are as wide as they are at your local tavern. 

While I understand that the closer we get to the end of my list, the less likely we are to fulfill the concerns of the early part of my list, I’ll settle for the smallest steps at this point. 

Remember, Books: They’re not just for women anymore.

Comments

[Janet]

That's so funny. Plenty of guys clubs exist, only they claim they play manly games like poker or darts and drink and watch football or other ... sports. Maybe if it were a secret that men were actually reading books, they be willing.

Hey! Wait a tick ... Is is possible that all those secret men-only societies are really just male book clubs? The Masons? Shriners? Skull and Bones? Knights Templar?! We could be on to something here ...

[Daniel]

I'm in. Except we live in different towns, so that drunken drive home from Nashville with an unread copy of the latest Douglas Coupland is going to be a real bitch.

[hue]

ha ha, a men's book club.

The last time I was in a book club was about 10 years ago when I worked at the paper in Raleigh. Now that I think about it, I may have been the only guy in the club. It was called the Slackers' Book Club, i.e. you don't have to read the book, but please show up. With those rules, very few people actually read. There was drinking involved, but there are plenty of other activities with drinking involved.

The problem with a men's club is that guys don't get together and talk. Guys get together to do stuff, play poker, watch a football game, play trivia at a bar. Guys do talk, but only while doing something else or watching something. So yes, you basically asked him out on a date.

[Daniel]

Well, there is truth in that. I realized earlier this year that all my sustained social contacts are really based more on stuff that we DO together than on any other factor: interests, affection, affinity, geography, WHATEVER. I relate to the world through the stuff that I make or study or do, and I relate best to the people who are doing those things with me. Even thinking about things is an act of doing, because most of the things I think about get filed under possible things they could be used to create.

Is that a male trait? Is that what men do?

I don't think so. Most of the men I know don't really DO very much at all.

But maybe we could have a men's book club where we MAKE books.

[Pam]

Well, maybe Dan, while you're at your male-making-books-club, Janet would like to go to a bar and play trivia games with me?

[Janet]

I'm in, Pam.

If it weren't for football, a lot of men would be mute at social functions, if they would even go.

[hue]

football and social functions ...

Have you ever been to a party or a cookout when someone turns on the TV and there is a game on? The next thing you know, the women are still in clusters chit chatting. The men are standing or sitting around the TV.

In one of my favorite short stories, "Goodbye, My Brother" by John Cheever, there was a costume dance at the boat club. (It was written in the 1940s.)

The invitations that year said to come as you wish you were. After several conversations, Helen and I decided what to wear. The thing she most wanted to be again, she said, was a bride, and so she decided to wear her wedding dress. I thought, this was a good choice, sincere, lighthearted and inexpensive. Her choice influenced mine, and I decided to wear an old football uniform.

When they showed up at the party, there were more than a handful of football players and 10 brides.

Things have changed a bit. But if Cheever were to write that story today, the men would still be in football uniforrms. The women?