The book was ancient and valuable; he shouldn't have it. In his hands, as if by itself, the pages flipped open and he saw the black lines stretch across the pages, notes rising and falling in small streams. As he looked, the notes wrapped themselves around him like ribbons of seaweed.
--Alix Ohlin, Simple Exercises for the Beginning Student, excerpted from The Best American Short Stories: 2005
I'm in a short story book club. Maybe it should just be called Short Story Club, because short stories are not books, but I think the term "book club" means a gathering of people to discuss stories, which can be fictional, nonfictional, short, or long. So Short Story Book Club works.
This short story book club will celebrate its 25th anniversary in September of this year. 25 years of gathering on the second Thursday of every month. It started with a bunch of teachers at the middle school where I used to teach, and they've been meeting regularly ever since. I was invited to join right about the time I quit my job teaching, so that means I've just completed my eighth year.
The stories we read come from a compilation, The Best American Short Stories. We read each story from that book, then we move on to the next year's selections. Right now we're in the year 2005. We get behind for two reasons. There are more than 12 stories in each book, and we don't meet during the summer. Instead, we choose a novel to read over the summer, discuss that in September, then continue with the short stories the rest of the year.
This is an amazing group of ladies. They are some of the finest educators I know, having served as mentors for me when I was a teacher, and now as I negotiate the tricky business of getting-the-most-out-of-life. I am the youngster of the bunch, and I revel in their wisdom. They have felt all the feelings that I have felt, they have been through many of the experiences I am going through, and they are undertaking adventures that I hope to be able to embark upon myself one day.
Every second Thursday, we do much more than talk about the story we read. The situations encountered by the characters in the story spur other discussions. We talk about the language in the writing; the structure of the story; the details the writer has imparted; the style of the writing and how it has crafted our view of the characters, the plot, and the themes, yes. But the key to our enjoyment is what we learn about each other, and therefore ourselves.
Which brings me back to the quote. This section of the story evoked a discussion of many of our first experiences with music and music books. One of my book club friends talked about how her mom tried to teach her how to sing harmony. Try as she might, she was only able to mimic the melody that her mother was singing. But she kept trying, and eventually she was able, along with her sisters, to sing in three-part harmony. Today, my friend's mother is an Alzheimer's patient. Singing is the one thing her mother reverts back to more than anything else because it was a large part of her life as a healthy woman. Now, my friend sings for her church. It is the way she fufills herself spiritually, the way she contributes to her religious community, and it brings her a joy that has no words.
And so, I learned something about my friend that I might never have learned otherwise. The stories that we read urge us to tell our own stories. And it is through the telling of our stories that we find comfort, validation, and understanding.
This is Marilyn, last Thursday's discussion leader. Marilyn is a former English teacher:
Carrie, former French teacher:
Jeanne, former English and history teacher:
Judy, former math teacher:
And Lois, former English teacher:
Very good friends:
Each time I go to Short Story Book Club, I feel as though there are many arms wrapped around me as I both tell my stories and listen to theirs. There is a warm kinship that is familiar, yet I know that my horizons will be widened as I am offered new perspectives.
I am so grateful for these women, for their friendship, for their trust, and for the bond that grows deeper every second Thursday.
(And hopeful that I'll see the Kathys, Karen, and Mary Ann as well the next time we meet.)
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