'Then I notice the way that Sorcha's looking at him. It's basically the same way she used to look at me when I was doing my thing against Blackrock and Clongowes'
SO I WALK INTO the gaff the other night and I end up hearing, like, the weirdest thing. A voice going, “It’s a fable of modern India with a genuinely tragic resonance. I found the prose enchanting. And at times – I’ve written the word here – celestial?” At first, roysh, I think Sorcha must have left the TV on. Something presented by John Kelly, no doubt. But as I walk down the hall, I realise that it’s, like, Sorcha’s voice that I can hear.
She’s going, “I actually felt I was experiencing Kerala with all five senses. That’s the power, I suppose, of amazing, amazing writing.”
I give the door of the living room a shove and I can’t believe what I see. There’s, like, a whole gang of them sitting around. We’re talking Sorcha and her old dear. We’re talking Claire from Bray and her husband, Garret. We’re talking Amie with an ie.
We’re talking two or three friends of Sorcha’s from her UCD days, one of whom I’m pretty sure I put over the jumps. And we’re talking the famous Gary, our recently divorced neighbour who has a serious thing for my soon-to-be ex-wife.
No one acknowledges me. That’s how lost they are in their own little world.
Claire from Bray – you’ll love this – goes, “I have to say, I totally agree with Sorcha. It’s like Arundhati Roy has created her own language, which I’d describe as prosetry.”
There’s a lot of nodding and one or two people go, “That’s actually a lovely phrase.”
I go, “Okay, have you lot been sucking on a bong or something?” Sorcha looks at me for the first time. “Ross,” she goes, “this meeting is for members only.”
I’m like, “Members of what?”
She goes, “Members of the book club.”
I suddenly notice the miniature bruschettas and the Gorgonzola and walnut pinwheels on the coffee table.
I’m like, “What the fock is a book club?” I hear Garret tut. He always tuts when he sees me, even before I’ve opened my mouth. What a knob.
“It’s a club where we all read the same book,” Sorcha goes, “then we sit down together as a group to, like, discuss it?”
I’m thinking what you’re no doubt thinking. What’s the focking point of that? She goes, “And you’re actually interrupting, Ross.”
I’m interested in seeing how it plays out, though, so I pull up a pew. I’m like, “Hey, don’t mind me. You power ahead.”
It’s, like, Garret’s turn to speak next. After shaking his head and tutting once or twice in my general postcode, he goes, “I originally read this book in ’02. So I was, like, rereading it. I have to say, I agree with my wife about the writing. It was rich and actually textured.”
I hear one of Sorcha’s old UCD mates go, “Oh my God, it was definitely textured!”
“Intense. Poetical,” says Garret. “There’s a magic to this book that’s pretty much other-worldly. It was actually Arundhati Roy who made me fall helplessly in love with India, for all its myriad problems and terrible complexities.”
Jesus Christ. These are, like, young people we’re talking about here. I’m just shaking my head. What are they doing with their lives? And what’s happening to the world? It used to be fun.
Garret blathers on about all the travelling he’s done and all the other books he’s read – “If you loved this, you’ll definitely love Vikram Seth” – until it’s eventually Gary’s turn. He sort of, like, pulls a face, then clears his throat nervously. There’s a touch of the Hugh Grants about him – as in, it’s totally put on. He knows what he’s doing.
“I, er, hate to be the dissenting voice in the room,” he goes, “but I have to say this book left me rather cold.” You can see people straightening up in their seats, obviously thinking, ‘Why didn’t I think to say that it was shit?’
He goes, “I thought the prose – while admittedly different – was a little indulgent and at times, well, wilfully oblique. I thought the narrative lacked momentum and I felt no empathy whatsoever for any of the characters. I mean, maybe I’m the wrong person to judge the quality of the writing. Perhaps
it is as beautiful as you all say. But two or three thousand skillfully crafted sentences doesn’t necessarily amount to a great book. And in this case – for me – it amounted to considerably less than that.”
I like this dude. I know he’s got a thing about my still technically wife, but I have to say that I like his style. Then I notice the way that Sorcha’s looking at him. It’s basically the same way she used to look at me when I was doing my thing against Blackrock and Clongowes and Mary’s and Terenure. The word I’d have to use is awe.
I end up having to leave the room. I go out to the kitchen and ring Fionn, my token brainiac mate. He answers on, like, the third ring.
I’m like, “Fionn, what are you doing?” Get this – he goes, “I’m reading an article in Science Today about nanotechnology and gene sequencing.”
I laugh. No choice in the matter. “You’re unbelievable,” I go, except genuinely meaning it?
He’s like, “What do you want anyway?”
“Dude,” I go, “you know how I’m always threatening that one day I’m going to get around to improving my mind? Well, that day has all of a sudden arrived.”
He’s there, “You’re going to go back and re-sit the Junior Cert, are you?”
I’m like, “Very focking funny. Yeah, no, brace yourself for a bit of a shock, Fionn. I’m joining . . . a book club.”
“Have you been drinking?”
“I have not had a drink, dude!”
“You? Are joining a book club?”
“Look, I can hordly believe it myself. But it’s happening.”
“Why?”
“Because no one ever told me that, like, knowing shit was a major turn-on for women. How were you still a virgin at 25, by the way?”
“I wasn’t.”
“A real focking mystery that one. Anyway, it’s actually Sorcha’s book club that I’m joining? Even though she doesn’t know yet.
“There’s this dude who’s been sniffing around – you’d want to see the way she looks at him, Fionn, whenever he opens his mouth. I just think that if I could get a bit of what he has, then I could possibly win her back.”
He laughs. “So,” he goes, “you’re going to start reading books.” And I’m like, “Of course I’m not. That’s the genius of the idea. You’re going to read them for me.”