The Rowdy Book Groups

Over the past year since Birthmarked came out, I’ve talked to twelve book groups (two via Skype) about the novel, and I’m meeting a week from today with another book group, a group of teens, at my old high school in St. Paul, Minnesota.  That should be cool.

I'll be Skyping with the Fond du Lac Ojibwe School Book Club in Duluth, MN soon.

Talking to a book group is a curious experience for me, especially when the people are all friends already.  Some of the groups have shared history that goes back years.  One group formed when swimmer parents, who had spent hours poolside cheering on each other’s kids, no longer had swim meets to go to and decided to keep their friendships going around books.  Other groups have formed around moms whose toddlers play together, or after school with a teacher or librarian, or through a library.  One was composed of mother-daughter teams.  The teen groups have had boys and girls, while in the adult groups I’ve visited, men are rare but they sure speak up.

After welcoming hellos, some visiting, and often some refreshments, there invariable comes a moment when we all sit down to discuss Gaia’s story, and that’s when I never know what’s going to happen.  Sometimes no one has any questions, so I launch into stories about how I came up with the first idea for the story, how I found a publisher, and how the story originally had a different ending.  Other times the hostess has a whole list of really thoughtful questions or someone moans about Leon and we jump right into pondering the story.  Some groups get sort of rowdy, with bursts of conversations taking off between people all at the same time so we have to call order and take turns.  Actually, come to think of it, even the most polite groups have had a rowdy element.  Fortunately.

We head off on tangents about the medical system in our country, or poverty, or absent parents, or whether school sets you free or imprisons you, or whether you’d rather risk having to give up your kids for adoption or risk being infertile.  We talk about people with hemophilia, and kids with special needs, and whether Gaia is too sensitive about her scar. We talk about beauty, and why girls today are still judged for their appearance.  We talk about violence in young adult books, and if that’s okay.  (It is.)

Eventually, people want to know about the sequel, and then, even though of course I know they haven’t read the second book, it’s still odd to me that they don’t know what happens.  To me, there’s no longer a clear line between Book 1 and Book 2—they’re a continuation of the same project.  What comes next just seems logical to me, though I can’t outline that here without the risk of spoiling the end of Birthmarked for people who haven’t read it yet.  I listen to people’s predictions, and I think, Yes, that’s good.  They’ll like what I do with that. Or Woops, they’re not going to like how that turns out.  Or Wow, they’re going to be surprised.

I end up wanting to jump forward a year to have another conversation with the same people.  Most of all, I feel thankful that my story has found its way into the right hands.  Long live the book group.