Book Group B

I belong to two book groups. Book Group A meets once a month. We drink tea and discuss a book we have read. Attendant conversations might include politics, philosophy, and travel. We have dessert, pick our next book, and we’re done. Period.
Book Group B, like Book Group A, meets once a month. We drink wine and beer and discuss a book we have read. Typically we discuss this book for anywhere from two to four minutes. There are sidebar conversations which encompass any number of random topics. We drink more. Sometimes we forget to pick our next book. Then, everyone leaves. Comma. I never feel like we are done.
The groups are very different. I love them both. This post, though, is about Book Group B, which met last night at my house. We read Pearl Buck’s The Good Earth. It’s a really cool book. I totally recommend it. Not only does it document peasant life in final days of the Ching dynasty, it delineates the oppressive fundamental inequalities between men and women. We talked about this for three minutes and 46 seconds.
This discussion organically segued into how men can be assholes. George W. Bush was offered up as proof positive. This took a good ten minutes, and gradually shifted to men in general and specifically our husbands, who may not be assholes, but are physiologically equipped with them. Farting, which I think was the dominant subject of the evening, covered a good forty-five minutes. Tales of spousal flatulence, both expelled and withheld, were shared. I would love to tell a few stories here, especially the ones involving flames and small aircraft, but, as one member, who I will refer to simply as C, says, “What happens in Book Group stays in Book Group.”
Gradually, the fart talk dissipated, and we moved on to cover burping, snoring, and rashes. I am pretty sure we were on the brink of tying our discussion to literary historical precedent (after all, I’m sure the Chinese in the waning years of imperial rule passed gas) when a nearby skunk was startled by our dog. It was as if fate stepped in and said, okay, ladies, let me offer you a little perspective.
Everyone left. I think we were all feeling grateful that husbands don’t spray. We forgot to pick a book for our next meeting, but I’m beginning to realize that for Book Group B, while the book might be the stated point, it’s tangental to the real point, which is friendship.