This article originally appeared in the January 2011 issue of the Other Press Newsletter.
Still glowing from my Iowa City appearance at Prairie Lights, I drove two hours between corn silos to the town of Oskaloosa, IA, population 11,000, with a two-block downtown, beautifully revamped, that was sure to keep the town and its residents eternally ensconced in the late 1890's. I had known the place would be a side trip, but I hadn't known how small. Yet it boosted the Book Vault, an elegant store lodged in a former bank and whose manager had been a champion of my book for months. Still, as I eyed my dinner options, I had to wonder: Who on earth would attend an author reading here?
A book group would.
That this group of seven women (plus a Unitarian minister) saved me from a gloomy evening of anonymity is an understatement. After two brownies and a glass of lemonade (store tradition), I drove home into the dusk in my mother's trusty Buick. "That was terrifying," I told my boyfriend over the phone. "And pretty much wonderful."
This would not be my last book group venture. My tour has been full of them, women and men who are early to find seats and have read the novel front to back--sometimes twice. At times, I have Skyped or telephoned my attendance into someone's living room or local bookstore, the groups usually a dozen or so in number and most in middle age, most of them women. My novel's popularity with such clubs is due no doubt to its paperback price, its unusual farm setting and Depression-era backdrop, the family journal that inspired it, and the novel's two female protagonists, each with her own stubborn version of events. Even my editor has been surprised by the divided loyalties of the so-called Enidina versus Mary camps. To put it plainly, there's plenty in the book to argue about.
The Two Camps: Enidina is stoic to the extreme, believes strong emotion peculiar if not a waste of time, and proves "wary of strangers" and even more so of women. Mary runs on a passion for appearances and a dangerous devotion to one man or another, protecting any threat to herself or her family with razor-sharp vengeance. Their very instincts contradict the other's at every turn, yet in the end, these two very different women are all each other has. While some find Enidina either cold or admirably restrained, others consider Mary the very devil or merely a product of universal fears and loneliness. I've overheard many a diatribe in defense of one or the other, and someone in the room often reminds the rest that these characters are fiction. In every response, I suspect a deep psychological connection, one that reveals far more of the reader's emotional make-up, birthplace, and experience. In truth, the choice seems larger than fiction. It's about the kind of women--of person--we can choose to be. Perspective is everything. And in that room with a book group, I can witness my novel expand beyond the boundaries of the physical page, even beyond my original intentions, and reinvision it through the lives of readers.
Today, the importance of such groups for a writer's livelihood cannot be overstated. In an age when reading is supposedly on the decline, this rise of devotees must signal a kind rebellion if not downright triumph. Imagine it: a group of a dozen or so in a circle in someone's living room or church basement, the same text on their laps, the shared experience, every mind bent on a single gathering of words. Unlike an author reading, there is no authority figure in the room, no sermonizing at the podium. There is only independence. Even when invited to sit in, I am no longer at the helm of what my book will mean--and that's exactly the delight of fiction. Today's authors shouldn't expect their audiences to sit quietly, legs crossed, waiting to receive wisdom. In the creation of a good book, the balance between the writer and reader has always been 50/50. A book group's very purpose--the spoken response, the questions, the arguments, both the lauding and shredding of pages--is what will keep books alive and meaningful for years to come. I've done my work in writing the book. Now I get to listen.
Michelle Hoover is available to participate in reading group discussions of The Quickening. Contact her via the form on her website (www.michellehoover.net), or contact [email protected].
