Organized informality...

Organized informality is something of an oxymoron, but it describes a series of get-togethers that Galina and I have attended over the past year or so, I guess. Every so often—there is no set schedule—something on the order of half a dozen or more couples get together for a pot-luck dinner, followed by a discussion of a book that (in theory) everyone has read.

Books have run the gamut from the Dalai Lama's On Happiness, to The Shell Seekers, by Rosamunde Pilcher, to the book discussed last night, Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe, by Fannie Flagg. I have no idea how the books get chosen, and really don't care to know, but the selection has been interesting.

One thing I have come to not particularly enjoy, surprisingly, is the discussion after dinner, or at least any of the kind of discussion that goes nowhere, where the sides just keep repeating their respective positions until someone gets tired and quits (or until someone—not me—insists the conversation move ahead).

Personally, once I got past the somewhat strange narration structure of FGT (flipping back and forth between the "present" (ca. 1986) and the past (starting in 1929, if memory serves), and moving forward in both time frames) the story did get under my skin enough for me to want to know what happened next (which is my principal criterion for successful writing). The recipes in the back of the book are icing on the cake, so to speak.

I believe the "button" to host the next event has been passed to Galina and me. I wonder when we should hold it?

I guess that'll depend on what book is to be discussed.