Book club

Well I've become the newest member of one of our village's book clubs (there are several, I believe). We read Donna Tartt's The Little Friend which was recommended by someone who had read and enjoyed The Secret History. It has to be said that none of us liked the book and only two managed to read the entire work. I enjoyed the first few pages, thinking it would be a sort of detective novel - my favourite genre. Then, as is my wont, I read the final chapter, but without the desired effect. So I typed "Who killed Robin Dufresnes?" into Google and discovered that there was in fact nothing to discover. I read a few random chunks of the book so I would have something to say about it and that was my first book club experience.

Currently I'm playing at reading The Meaning of Night by Michael Cox. I'm mightily disappointed by this novel and this may be the second book in a row I've not finished. I cannot accept what seems to be the foundation of the novel, - that the main character commits a murder merely to see if he's up to it and to get some practice for murdering the person he really wants to dispatch. Duh.

I chose our group's next novel. It is Matthew Kneale's English Passengers. I've not read it yet myself but I did enjoy BBC Radio 4's programme about it and I am a fan of the author's mother's work - the Mog stories.