The Joy of Books

Last week I celebrated a 21st anniversary in the lovely lile village of McGregor

Not someone’s coming of age, but a celebraon of the 21 years that Kalk Bay Book Club has existed.

Why go all the way to McGregor? Well, three of our members had le and moved to McGregor, and we wanted to include former members, so we decided to make that the place for our two-day celebraon.

And what fun we had.

There was some doubt we would get there because the heavy rains that lashed the Western Cape last week had closed the Huguenot Tunnel on the N1, and the bridge to McGregor. But it was okay by the me we le.

What a beauful drive. How lovely to see Theewaterskloof Dam, that supplies more than half of Cape Town’s water, filled to the brim. Never want to see those Day Zero pix again where the dam was just white sand with a puddle in the middle.

One evening, aer a good meal and lovely wine, book clubbers sat around the table and told our stories of what books meant to us.

One woman’s story I had never heard.

She grew up on a farm in what is now the North West, went to an Afrikaans school, and had only one small bookcase in her home. She was starved of books.

One day the Educaon Department decreed that every child had to read one book that year

Because she was English speaking, her teacher decided she should read an English book, so he hauled her off to where these books were stored.

“He took me to an old water tower and we climbed up these metal steps, round and round, and then at the top was a kind of cupboard, which he unlocked and said; ‘Take a book’”

She reached up and pulled one out: David Copperfield. The world of Dickens was suddenly opened up for her

She read it quickly and wanted more, but never dared to ask.

There must be millions of children like her who have lile opportunity to read. In her case it did not hinder her. She became a teacher and later an academic in educaon.

One thing that puzzles me about book clubs is that they are almost enrely made up of women.

Which reminds me of one of Roddy Doyle’s books, Charlie Savage, set in Ireland.

Charlie’s middle-aged mate and pub companion of many years suddenly announces over a pint that he has decided that “I idenfy as a woman”

Charlie is stunned, but goes with it. Nothing changes unl several weeks later the mate announces that he is now going to take steps to becoming a woman.

What? Having hormones? The operaon?

Nah, don’t be da his mate says.

What then?

“I’m joining a book club.”

Which made perfect sense to Charlie, because he had never met a man who was part of a book club.

Charlie did once ask his wife what her book club involved.

“She told me it was a secret world, that not even the Russians could penetrate.”

Hê hê.

A toast to book clubs the world over