Book clubs are slippery slopes. They start off in one direction and then slowly evolve into something else. And pretty soon, you find yourself reading books you have absolutely zero interest in. And the stack of books you do want to read just keeps getting higher and wider.

I’ve taken a few approaches to this dilemma over the years. I speak my mind to my fellow book club members. I skip a book or two, here or there. I take a long hiatus. I join another book club. These strategies have worked fairly well for me over the years. And my book mates don’t seem to mind too terribly much…. Or do they?!??

The guilt eats at me. I made a commitment. I shouldn’t be a wuss. I should expose myself to less familiar genres and authors. I should read stuff friends like just to understand them better. They read the classics I suggest, not all of them pure delights.

I mean, I guess you don’t know what you don’t read….. Right?

Ugh. The minutes, hours and days speed past. And I stare at this gloomy, politicized, feminist, futuristic book (and I don’t have anything against dark plots, politics, feminism or the future, per se) but reading this book (so far) has been dern-near torture.

So I leave it to you. Do I invest several hours of my life and try to take something away from the experience of reading and discussing this novel? Or do I escape to a more appealing, if not magical, place with a book or activity of my own choosing?