I was in a book club in the last city I lived in. We read books, got together for dinner/dessert and chatted. It was all very lovely and fun and we were all female. This new book club in my no-longer-new town, it has boys in it! In fact, they’re the majority, most of the time overwhelming in their majority. Also, we read nerd books. Science fiction and fantasy, alternating, of course, all organized and nerd-ly. =)
Most of the books so far have not been what anyone would call “difficult” (unless you mean “difficult to get through because your husband mocks you every time he sees you reading that book with the elf-thing on the front cover). Until this month. We’re reading Armor, and I have spent way too much of this book wondering what the author is trying to tell me that I am just not getting. I need the cliff notes; I don’t like feeling like I am missing something and need to cheat to get it. It makes me a little sad and a little concerned about my reading comprehension skills.
And then there is Mike’s response to the book, which I will paraphrase here as, “yeah, I didn’t get a lot of it, so I quit reading. His characters were all jerks and I didn’t get what he was trying to say. It was badly written.” If only I had his self-confidence.
I let the book win. =(