Mouth of a Story

Last year, I joined a book club that I found on Craigslist and it was pretty fulfilling, for a short while. I only made it to three meetings because I was the only one who showed up for the fourth meeting.

There is nothing on this earth that can make you feel like more of a loser than being stood up by your book club.

Fuckers.

Now I have joined a new book club and this time I'm not meeting with Craigslist floozies; I'm meeting with friends of a friend. These people are now my friends and so the odds of being stood up are slimmed down considerably.

Last night, we met at La Grainne Cafe on 9th Ave to discuss John Banville's The Sea. Unfortunately, I had already eaten dinner, but La Grainne serves very fine looking crepes that I will have to try next time.

And the book? I recommend this read if you like ponderous, depressing, yet beautifully written, Irish novels about a narrator mourning the loss of his wife while revisiting the sea of his childhood, metaphors included.

I will say this: Hemingway and Melville are solid, yet no one writes about the sea like the Irish do.

There were three of us at that meeting last night. I'm not sure if three people constitutes a club but it's good enough for me.