World Book Night

This was my first year as a World Book Night giver. I can certainly recommend the experience. Of the twenty titles available I chose Victoria Hislop's The Island. A young woman discovers the secret history of her great-grandmother Eleni, and her connection to the tiny, deserted island of Spinalonga, Greece's former leper colony. It's a book I enjoyed several years ago, partly for the moving story and also for its sense of place. I gave my copies away in the playground of my son's primary school, some to people I knew and others to complete strangers. It was wonderful to be able to give away something that has given me pleasure and also to enjoy the bookish conversations it provoked. I hope the recipients will enjoy the book as much as I did and pass it on to friends and family.

Whilst I was sitting in Nero's doing battle with an essay on Plutarch and Antony and Cleopatra, a stranger came up to me and offered me a book too. Philippa Gregory's The White Queen tells the story of Elizabeth Woodville, mother of the Princes in the Tower. I've been told it's very good.

When a third of households in the UK don't have books in them and 16% of adults struggle with literacy, World Book Night is a wonderful idea.

You can find this year's list of books here. Which book would you have chosen?

Book group envy

When The Mathematician told me he was joining a book group I'm ashamed to say I was not entirely encouraging. I'd always thought of book groups as quite feminine affairs. (I realise at this point I risk losing any male readers I might have had). I do apologise for this blatant sexism, but my mental image of bookgroups was a gaggle of middle-aged ladies sipping wine and interspersing book talk with updates on school holidays and living with teenagers. I know - I'm old enough to know better.

Of course, rationally I do realise that book groups come in all shapes and sizes. There's no reason why a glass of shiraz can't be swapped for a pint of real ale or a cup of tea for that matter. Nor is there any reason why family talk can't be replaced by thoughts on the Manchester derby. And now, I must confess, I find myself suffering from book group envy.

Since its inception, the all-male Second Monday Book Group have read the following:

The Psychopath Test - Jon Ronson
From Russia with Love - Ian Fleming
The Outsider - Camus
A Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich - Solzhenitsyn
The God of Small Things - Arundhati Roy

So why am I envious? Partly for their choice of books. Well, the Camus and Solzhenitsyn at any rate. There's something about the broader canvas - whether political or philsophical - that appeals. It's the pleasure of a conversation that begins with the book itself but then roams far and wide. I'd also like to escape from what seems to have become a comfortable rut of 'women's writing'.Then there's the muscularity of the debate. Only once have the Lancashire Ladies derided someone's book choice, and that was only by accident. The SMBG, by contrast, have no such qualms and tables have been thumped on several occasions.

I'm in a belligerent mood for book group this evening. Lancashire Ladies be warned!