I’m aware that it’s in no way an original idea. But hey, clichés become clichés for a reason. Last spring, a couple of high school friends of mine and I started talking about forming a feminist book club. Several of us had come back to Stockholm from having gotten our degrees in different parts of Sweden (not me, obviously, I never made it out of Stockholm), and we all agreed that we had missed reading novels and discussing them, like in high school Swedish and English class. In September, we had our first meeting.
And I must say, it’s been a wonderful thing. During this year that I’ve had, my first as a professional, with responsibilities and time-schedules to get used to, the book club has been a safe place to come to. We meet in each other’s kitchens and discuss over dinner and wine. First a quick update on how everyone’s doing, but without delving, and then we talk about the book. Ah, I love talking about books.
The feminist theme is loosely interpreted to mean anything that could be discussed from a feminist point of view. We take turns choosing the book, so we’ve had a good spread. Two short Swedish classics, a Doris Lessing, a contemporary novel set in Somalia, a science fiction masterpiece and a reportage about the underground girls of Kabul.
I always leave these meetings invigorated. First having gotten the chance to immerse myself into a story that is so remote from my own existence, and then getting to discuss impressions and thoughts that came out of the reading with a group of intelligent women. We all have master degrees, so I guess in that sense we’re similar, but the fields that we work in have taken us to very different places, and we all have different stories to share.
Overall, I like where my life has taken me this far, but once in a while some distance is needed – and the feminist book club gives the perfect opportunity. In a bubble of novels and sisterhood, I get to take a break from myself once every six weeks. I love it.
Walking home through the Old Town snow, from another wonderful book club meeting, just tipsy enough from the wine to make an ordinary Wednesday evening feel exciting, and life seems to make sense again.
Katja Malmborg 