Book Club Questions Novels & Stories

"Ohh, please, you can call me Evelyn. My advice is don't stop writing, even when no one is looking. Your hardwork will surely pay off someday." The second to last question was from a much mature woman who asked if I was single, that she would love to hook me up with her son. "I have a boyfriend, ma'am." I joined everyone in laughing. What sort of question was that? "Okay, last question for tonight." The host said. Yet there were still more hands up. "This time, I will choose from the extreme." I wasn't looking when the host chose number five. When everywhere got quiet for the last question to come up, I raised my head to see Killian standing, with a copy of my book in his hands.

"She was exactly who I remembered before all of it." I looked at my coffee.... "And yet here you are," I said She was quiet for a moment. "I said I'd tell you what I found," she said. "I'm telling you." "What happens next?" she said. I looked at her. "You don't force people to doubt someone they love," I said. She looked at me. "You plant questions," I said. "Small ones. Things that don't require defending against because they're not accusations.... they're observations. The kind that sit in a person's mind and return occasionally. That accumulates slowly." I paused.

He opens the green notebook. He has, as promised, fourteen questions. He asks them in the order he has written them not mechanically, with the specific attention of someone who has thought about the sequence and arranged it to build understanding progressively. Irina answers each one fully, without shortening, without performing patience. She treats the questions with the respect that good questions deserve from someone who has been waiting to answer them for a very long time. At question seven he asks: "Did you love him?" The table goes slightly quiet.

He said smiling. “How would I know that you’re telling the truth?” “Don’t worry. Let the time come. I’ll get you some James Patterson’s books. We were both fans of the women murder club series” I could only nod. His words brought a question to my mind; How close were we? “Can I ask you something?” “I don’t want to say yes, because I’m scared of your questions right now. But still, cut me off”’ “When did all these things happen? I mean the beach, games and rest”

He laughed like a housewife sharing the most casual of gossip. "I, of course, just want to urge you to ask her the right questions. Nothing drastic, of course! Maybe ask, how did Gideon Powers suddenly end up dead after his clear life sentence? And how did Delta Natalia end up dead as well in quite a similar fashion? Oh, and do ask who was responsible for a certain cake shop fire that turned literally everyone and everything to ash."

I say, sending in a list of get to know you dating questions. Thane goes through the long pile of questions, a chuckle breaking off his lips while he reads through. “Okay, this is good. But why does it have lots of nasty questions” he asks, lifting his eyes up. “I just placed a balance of sexual and emotional questions” I blurted out, not really wanting to let out the truth of its originator, but that seems to already be on the table. My hands shield cover my face. Thanes stare isn't exactly innocent, but a mix of slutty and amazement. I guess no one really knows what's in your brain, until you let it off.

We argued about plot holes and character arcs and whether the ending was earned. Lena brought cookies. Carlos brought tears. Jenna brought brutal honesty. And Oliver brought questions. “Why do you think the author chose that metaphor?” he’d ask, or “What do you think the main character really wanted?” He listened to everyone’s answers. He considered them. He never dismissed anyone’s opinion, even when he disagreed. I found myself looking forward to his questions. To the way his brow furrowed when he was thinking. To the small, pleased smile when someone made a point he hadn’t considered.

We were born on May 21, despite being four years apart from him. "Boxers of Briefs?" "Briefs." “Coke or Sprite?” "Coke." “Burgers or Pizza?” “Burgers.” “Country music, or Metal?” "Metal." I frowned. Rearranging the list of questions in my head. “Action or Romance?” "Thillers." “Coffee or Milk?” "Coffee." "Orange or Apple?" "Orange." “Cats or Dogs?” "Both." “Soccer or Basketball?” "Soccer."

"Billy? Huh, oh yeah, I'm fine. Yes. Lunch today, right." "Good, can't wait." She smiled again and left him with his jaw hanging open and a deer in the headlights gaze. When she got back to her desk, she sent Nicki a text asking him if he wanted to meet her for dinner and they could maybe go over their book club reading together. They met on Thursdays every other week for their book club. Most of the time, she got through half the book before she gave up and read the last chapter. Nicki would fill her in on the way over to the meeting what parts she was missing.

He asked questions—not the shallow kind Damon’s associates had used to make polite conversation, but real questions. “What’s your favorite book?” he asked at one point, leaning close to be heard over the music. She blinked, startled. “My book?” He smiled faintly. “Yeah. Everyone’s got one. The one they can read again and again and never get tired of.” Mya hesitated, then admitted, “Wuthering Heights. It’s… tragic and messy, but there’s something about the passion in it. The kind that consumes people.” Keith nodded thoughtfully. “I get that. Mine’s The Count of Monte Cristo. Revenge, redemption, justice—it’s a story that makes you think about what really matters when you lose everything.”