The number of book groups across America exceeds 250,000. At least, that is the heady figure arrived at by educated guess. I am glad to belong to one such group, as I have for more than thirty years.
I also feel happy that our members are both male and female. That makes ours different: an estimated 80 percent of this country’s book groups are made up solely of women.
Our most recent selection was a novel by the South African writer J.M. Coetzee. Titled simply “Disgrace,” this work focuses on a professor deep into middle age whose sexual liaison with one of his students plunges him into crisis. The novel also introduces readers to the turmoil of post-apartheid South African society, with its violence and shifting values.
We also enjoy reading nonfiction works. One previous selection, for example, was James Carroll’s “Constantine’s Sword.” The friendship that some of us share with this author did not prevent us from bringing some objectivity to our appraisal. Most of us appreciated Carroll’s painful historical expose of the injustices visited upon Jewish people by the Christian Church, while some members felt critical of him for mixing autobiographical episodes into the history.
For the summer, our custom has been to read a blockbuster, a long book, usually a classic novel, that we can sink our teeth into. Our choice this year came down to either “Pride and Prejudice” or Thomas Mann’s “The Magic Mountain.” Surprisingly, given the abiding popularity of Jane Austen in our group, the latter won the majority vote.
Not everyone finishes all the reading every month; in fact, some have been known not to have read the book at all. However, we encourage members to come to the meetings and, without shame, honor our dubious tradition of talking articulately about unread writing.
My reason for devoting a column to our reading group is not merely the joy found in good books. I am also convinced that, of all the devices that enhance the experience of getting old, social networks rank among the most important. Studies reinforce this conviction by showing that elders tend to flourish when they interact with friends, especially friends all along the age spectrum.
This conviction finds support in the words of George Vaillant, the 66-year old psychiatrist who directs what the Harvard University Gazette calls “the world’s longest continuous study of physical and mental health.”
The June 7th issue quotes his advice: “Life ain’t easy. Terrible things happen to everyone. You have to keep your sense of humor, give something of yourself to others, make friends who are younger than you, learn new things, and have fun.”
Most of this advice has been repeated so often as to have become almost shopworn. But one phrase leaps out by reason of its freshness: “Make friends who are younger than you.” This imperative, for those of us who can put it into practice, has the potential for transforming our experience of later life.
To me, at least, having friends of all ages offers precious support. People with whom you can share insights and exchange views of the world become a rich resource for living in later life. If you are comfortable enough with these friends to make mistakes and try out ideas that may not fly, so much the better.
It is of considerable benefit to me that some members of our reading group are more than thirty years younger than I. They bring a different perspective to the discussion and often offer insights that I am incapable of. That they take my views seriously and seem to appreciate my longer life history also brings me pleasure.
It gives our group cohesion that members share the same spiritual tradition. This common heritage provides a base of shared understandings that give us a head start in discussion. But it does not act as a straitjacket; rather it frees us to talk in terms that everyone can grasp, though they may disagree with points being made.
With the passage of time, our group will undoubtedly change. I hope, however, that we do not ever split over ideology the way an ancestor of this group did. That liberal/conservative falling-out sliced the membership into two, with the Charles River becoming the water of separation. The Newton/Boston members chose to stay on their side of the stream, while Cambridge and other communities remained on theirs.
In her charming book of essays “Ex Libris,” Anne Fadiman regales readers with this brief anecdote: for her forty-second birthday, her husband stealthily took her on a half-hour train ride from New York City to a weather-beaten little shop in the suburbs where he bought her nineteen pounds of used books. She felt overcome with delight at the surprise gift.
Our book group, in its most recent incarnation, probably equals this poundage in a single year. And while doing so we continue to enjoy one another’s company.
Richard Griffin