I’ve been in a book club for years. Like, twelve years. That’s a lot of books right? Well, here’s the thing about this book club. There are only two members (one he, and one she). We don’t discuss our books. We don’t get mad if one or both of us don’t finish a book. Heck, we may not know. We never, ever meet for coffee. We simply pick books together, or recommend books to each other. That’s it. But we like to call ourselves a club. It makes us laugh. Plus, we just really like our name.
We call ourselves He Read/She Read, and we think the name is pretty apt. Says it all, right? Call us old fashioned, but we just like to read. Don’t get me wrong – it’s not as if we never say a word about what we have read, … I mean, c’mon – I was an English major. He was Sociology. We are chitchatters. But talking about books in a serious setting for over an hour? Not our thang. We maybe high five about a book, if it’s really great. Maybe.