In a quiet suburban neighborhood where minivans outnumber streetlights, a group of women have been ingeniously disguising their love of wine as a book club. While their intentions may be transparent to everyone else, these winos insist that their guise is a stroke of genius. “It’s a sophisticated literary club that explores classic as well contemporary novels, okay? We don’t have a wine problem. We can stop anytime we want!” said club president, Charlotte Chardonnay, as she poured herself another glass of Merlot. “We appreciate literature just as much as we appreciate a glass of wine filled to the brim. Why not combine the two?”
The group rotates hosting at their houses and local wineries. Every month, members of the club are tasked with selecting a new book to read and discuss at their meetings. However, sources have revealed that most members barely crack open the book, opting instead to rely on SparkNotes summaries or, in some cases, the hope that there is a movie adaptation that’s close enough to the book to convince the rest of the club they read it.
“I joined the club because I heard they were reading ‘Pride and Prejudice,’ but honestly, I stay for the Pinot,” admitted long-time member Susan Sauvignon, whose literary insights are often drowned out by the popping of corks and lively debates about the best wine regions. “It’s not that we don’t appreciate literature, it’s just that life gets so busy, you know? Between drinks at happy hour, girl’s night out and wine club, who has time to read an entire book?”
Obvious to every husband of the club’s members, the meetings bear little resemblance to the intellectual debates one might expect from a book club. Instead of discussing themes, character development, or plot twists, conversations often devolve into heated rants about unruly children, overbearing in-laws, and the latest gossip from the neighborhood. Despite their transparent charade, the club members remain steadfast in their belief that they are in fact a book club.
While some may scoff at the club’s thinly veiled attempts at sophistication, the members remain determined to continue their monthly girl’s night, one Carlo Rossi at a time. “We may not be fooling anyone but ourselves,” Charlotte Chardonnay admitted with a laugh, “but after a few glasses, who cares?”
