reading matter

Once a month I attend a book club, a beautifully informal affair with cake and coffee or wine and cheese depending on who holds it (when it's my turn I have wine and cake, but that's because I'm greedy).
It's a slightly modified form of the usual club... we all brought a favourite book to the first meeting, these form the basis of our library. Every month each member gives $10 to next months hostess, who then buys as many new books as this donation allows and adds them to the library. At each meeting you wax lyrical about the books you borrowed last month after which the whole group joins in. I enjoy this way of carrying on as it means everyone gets their 5 minutes in the spotlight, rather than all reading the same thing at the same time and then having to listen to two or three dominant sorts blah,blah,blah until there is virtually fisticuffs (I kid you not, I was at that book club meeting).
The hostess, in between sloshing wine into glasses, cutting cake and checking the toilet is clean, tells all why she purchased the new books. Everyone then makes a dignified grab for the new books, however I have devised a cunning plan. If you hang back until everyone else has made their choice you are able to vacuum up all the leftovers and so enjoy that lovely feeling of stacking at least four books next to the bed for a little sleepy reading.
This month I hoovered,
The vanishing act of Esme Lennox: Maggie O'Farrell
Atonement: Ian McEwan
The industry of souls: Martin Booth
Absolutely faking it: Tiana Templeman

I'll let you know my thoughts....