Krispy Kreme Conversation

I'll advance the argument that even a bad book club is better than none at all for those of us who fancy themselves career students of the University of Life. (All ya'll on academic tracks need not bother, since your profession becomes something of a specialized large-scale book club apropos your field of interest.)

The thing is, books plead discussion. Books have the body to sustain discussion. Books provoke thoughts that implore discussion.

But what do we find as common frame of reference with most people in our lives? TV. Movies. Talk of whoever the fuck the celebrity du jour is dating. Light, airy, Krispy Kreme topics that can't uphold enough depth or complexity to raise eyebrows, much less emotion, thought or debate. Am I asking for a lot here?

When most of us read, it's solitary. Isolating. Antisocial, even. As dorky as the book club concept is, its social quality elevates it to something bigger: a connection that draws us out of our little brainspace and connects us with other minds.

Meaningful connections... I believe that's the very purpose of our existence. It's the context by which we should judge our lives. I have to believe that life's meaning amounts to more than our sleep-eat-work routine. I have to believe that it's more than reproduction, more than consumption, more than base greed.

Therefore, a toast to the book club. Just one more dorky way in which we find each other, and through each other, find ourselves.