Book Questions For Book Clubs Novels & Stories

I could only hope that she would have settled in again by tonight, because otherwise I would be allowed to sleep on the couch one night again - and it was really uncomfortable. Sighing, I leaned back and opened the completely tattered book again, which I actually already knew by heart. But I wanted to repeat as much as possible today so that I could get off to a good start tomorrow. I ran my finger over the familiar table of contents. Foreword, evolution, instinct, social life, physiology, reproduction, ancestry, stem groups and subspecies. How many times had I made this movement with my finger? I couldn't count it anymore, but it was like a little ritual I had to go through before I could s

The book club ladies were in fine form this afternoon. Margaret Thompson sat primly on the floral couch in a rented out space close to the library, a half-empty teacup balanced on her knee, her Bible study notes open on the coffee table. The conversation had started with the latest Christian fiction novel — something about redemption and resisting temptation — but it had drifted, as it always did, into more personal territory. Gossip dressed up as prayer requests. “Speaking of temptation,” one of the women said, lowering her voice with dramatic concern, “have you heard what’s going around about that poor Thompson boy?”

I’d make some new friends, and if that didn’t work out, I’d still have my coursework and classes. The book club met twice a week to accommodate for classes and the time it’d take to read the books, but it went from nine PM to midnight or later, just like a writing workshop—or so I was told. They were more than happy to let me join in, much to my relief, and were very welcoming. One of the girls in the club, Alice, talked to me as everyone waited for whoever volunteered their car for the evening to arrive.

Instead, they just started flipping through the pages of the book, looking for which store to choose. While I was standing there next to them, praying they didn’t choose more than a few of the stories. “Poison, this one seems interesting.” The outgoing twin stated about to touch the page. I muttered a few curses under my breath that they ‌either didn’t hear or ignored. Although Poison wasn’t the darkest story in my book; it wasn’t the lightest either. “Shouldn’t we read the book description first?” the other twin asked “Of course not! Who even reads book descriptions?” was the first one’s response.

Like someone had started carving something beautiful and then walked away. “Where are we going?” I asked. He gave nothing. Men like him probably didn’t waste words on their victims. Too busy murdering families and ruining perfectly good evenings. Or maybe he had a speech problem. I squinted my eyes at him as I tried to imagine him having difficulty with words. “I have book club tomorrow. We’re doing Pride and Prejudice. I’m supposed to bring scones. I would really like not to miss it.” Still zero reaction. Not even a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“You ready? We’re gonna be late.” “Oh, right book club.” The weekly meeting where everyone pretended to be invested in literature when really, the only reason half the group showed up was for free cookies. I dragged on my jacket, earpods that sat on the floor and my bag, forced a loud sigh, and followed her outside. The walk to the bookstore wasn’t long, but it felt heavier than usual, like the air itself was chewing on my nerves. The silence was literally choking me. The bookshop was tiny and warm, smelling like vanilla, old pages, and a little bit of cinnamon. Bells chimed when we pushed the door open. Soft jazz floated from a vintage speaker in the corner, the kind that made you feel like

I can't imagine spending time with him outside the hospital; I'd be too awed to speak. "All right, ladies!" Cindy taps a spoon against her glass to get our attention. "We're a book club, so we need to at least look like we're talking about this week's read." She reaches down to take a hardback book out of her bright pink beach bag. "Elin Hilderbrand's The Rumor-so much to unpack here. Who wants to start?" When none of us say a word, Cindy heaves a loud sigh. "Okay, children. I see you're going to make me work for this one. The book is told from four different points of view. Which did you relate to the most?"

Sabeerah brought them out one by one. Muslim Girl and If I Speak by Umm Zakiyyah, The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides, Three Daughters Of Eve by Elif Shafak, On Black Sister's Street by Chika Unigwe, And Then There Was None by Agatha Christie, A Time To Kill by John Grisham and finally, A History Of The Wives Of Prophet Muhammad by Umam Kahn. She picked up the last book which was actually a journal and tucked in its side were plack pencils with bookish scribbles on them.

I’m trying to be patient, but it’s harder than I’d like to admit. Two months ago, I opened my bookstore, and it’s been incredible. Twice a week, we host book clubs, and I’ve made it a point to bring one of the guys with me to each session. It’s hilarious watching their faces as we dive into the discussions. The women seem to enjoy it too—something about discussing steamy romance scenes with a bit of eye candy in the room. The door finally creaks open, and I sit up straighter as they walk in.

“It’s pretty wild. You’re in for an interesting night.” Luna grabs another copy of the book from a nearby stack and hands it to me. “Here you go. This one’s a fresh copy, we have plenty. You’ll see why in a minute.” I take the book, glancing between them. “You’ve actually got extras? What kind of book club is this?” Lilly grins mischievously. “One that takes its material seriously. We didn’t just pick this one by chance. We’ve been swapping theories about it for weeks now. Everyone’s dying to hear your take.”