“It was the best of times; it was the worst of times….”
While every member of the Glorious Living Book Club, felt literarily improved after reading A Tale of Two Cities, I can’t say they felt the same way about a whale that knew how to push the buttons of a one-legged captain and his crew. I’d stretched the literary limits of my Glorious Living Book Club, with Herman Melville’s tale of a sea faring town and its famous whale, with what I can only describe in retrospect as “classic” overload.
In the beginning, it was the best of times. In carrying out my vision to bring together two of my favorite things: creating culinary delights in my kitchen whilst indulging in my addiction for books—the Glorious Living Book Club was born. I rounded up a few of my closest friends, set a lavish table, stacked the books, and opened my door.
We began with Bess Streeter Aldrich’s “A Lantern in Her Hand.” I decorated the table with small little lanterns, with a mouth-watering four layered white chocolate blueberry cake as a centerpiece for my dining room table. It felt fitting that we launch our little club with Nebraska’s most notable author. Month after month we ate lavishly and read our books.
Then one day, I was at Barnes and Noble and picked up Oprah’s latest magazine and flipped the pages to her book club section. There in all its splendor was her pic of the month. A portrait of a great whale leaping high above the waves carrying an ancient seaman with a wooden leg harpooned to its side. The charcoal-gray whale against the turquoise ominous sky and white foamy waves mesmerized me. It was love at first sight. Moby Dick. They’re gonna love it! I bought a large, gold leafed, embellished and illustrated hard back edition, with an attached navy silk ribbon bookmark. I clutched it to my breast and presented it to the clerk like a sacred relic. The worst of times were on their way.
As was our usual routine after our delicious meal, I would serve the chai tea and homemade dessert. We would discuss the current month’s read, reserving the last 30 minutes of the evening for me to promote and present next month’s pic. I presented Moby Dick, hovering it proudly over a plate of my sliced caramel apple nut bread with chocolate sauce for effect. I didn’t get the response I thought I would get. It only took a few minutes for the rebellion to begin. And like all real rebellions, they don’t start overnight—they’ve been simmering for a while. Any real smart empress or dictator would have seen the signs.
“Moby Dick?” Karen gasped. “You mean that whale book we were all required to read in high-school? I paid my brother to read it and write my report!”
“But Karen,” I urged. “Look at the first line: ‘Call me Ishmael,’ doesn’t that just draw you in!”
They were no longer my friends, but strangers—a mob—I was a bit taken a back, but I held my ground. “But it’s hilarious!” I exhorted. “Herman Melville is very, very funny, and the Indian Queequeg! Why there’s this hilarious scene in the Inn when they meet—now I must say, unfortunately there is this one chapter that goes on and on and on about the different types of whales—I thoroughly enjoyed it—but you might want to skip over that if you must.”
We never met again after that. At least, not as a book club. The rebellion was a success and Marie Antoinette on the run. I didn’t want to read what they wanted to read and they were tired of me telling them what they should read. Books are personal. Very personal. They not only give us a respite from ourselves and the daily grind, but they bring to us what we need and want from the books we choose. If you’ve ever facilitated a book club, you know it’s not an easy task. The women are unique and special like the books they read.
For me, Moby Dick is my favorite book of all times. But then if you knew me, you wouldn’t be surprised. I also think the phone book size of War and Peace is something you snuggle up with on a rainy day. But I think the main reason it’s my favorite book is because it taught me that I should throw out the book club and keep the women (we have all remained great friends to this day), and to not shipwreck all of us in my own great pursuit like a Captain Ahab.
And that’s the story of my grandiose book club venture, and how a whale of a story, Moby Dick, unintentionally and graciously brought down the Glorious Living Book Club and set its captive readers free.