Your book club may have no more in common with mine than lawn bowls has with Sumo wrestling.
I remember the moment I found my people: four women, all sassy feminists who loved cheesy pasta and reading with equal fervour. Our first book club meeting involved Liane Moriarty, homemade dessert and cheap wine: Since then, we’ve read contemporary fiction, books of essays, Stella Prize winners and the odd memoir. We don’t even all read the same book at the same time; with different reading speeds, we wait until we’ve finished the book before discussing it.
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