Derek at the Book Club

Derek at the Book Club


I have listened to them time and time again and I have had enough, you know. A

topic is conjured amongst the group and suddenly victory is declared before the

icing has even cracked its sugary surface. The arguments they present to us are

quite simply – unfair. The rock has barely even been scraped and they think they

have a sculpture. Truly, it makes me sick to my back teeth, it does.


How can we have a reasonable discussion when that dog-faced woman must always

strive to destroy my ideas? We must have argued for three hours at least, you know,

before I finally picked up my coat and stormed out the building. My chest had grown

tight again, and after the last clash with that devil my doctor had advised me to avoid

stressful situations, he did. On the drive home I had so many thoughts running

through my mind I thought my head might explode. I had so many ideas I should

have said, why didn’t I say them? I had opportunity, but I’m just such a coward. She

may be just a woman, but her teeth are sharp and before she playfully warns you, I

can promise that she does bite.


Margaret Heatherdew; such a hideous creature. She has no hobbies or interests, no

friends or dreams. She simply walks the Earth like a zombie trying to make

everyone else’s life worse. I should probably have said a ghoul; her clammy, cold

skin is far more suited to a creature with more of a mind and a will to do evil, rather

then a mindless oaf. The zombies were her followers, Eve, Nigel and Barbara who

would back up anything she said with a sudden “Mmm, yes” and the nodding of their

stupid little heads. I had joined the book club to deal with intellects that share a

common interest, instead I have ended up as part of a group that besides David

Hathersage, concentrates all of its energy in undermining each others’ ideas in a

continuous battle of wits.


Generally it doesn’t even come under the term wit. Last week I had an idea pushed

to the ground by one of Margaret’s gang. She simply said “No, I don’t agree with that

at all,” and left it at that, as though it was a reasonable argument. I was so stunned

that she didn’t follow it up with an explanation I remained in complete silence,

unable to comment. David and I laughed after a short while of course; it’s always a

humorous event when Margaret wheels out “The Big Guns” as we affectionately refer

to them. Such stupid little people, yet they seem to hold themselves in such high

esteem. The term “Big guns” is of course used ironically. The day when I am able to

give the Heatherdew gang credit will be a surprising one indeed. Still, I suppose they

do provide a small source of entertainment, no matter how infuriating it often is.


You know it’s ridiculous. David actually asked me if I had respect for Margaret

Heatherdew tonight. I honestly couldn’t believe it, after the past six months Margaret

has been the bane of my life, shouting down my ideas, laughing at my suggestions

and generally recommending the most awful books I believe I have ever read. Of

course, I didn’t dignify his question with a response and after a while he let the

subject go, to my great relief. David often has this method of questioning people in a

manner that can make one feel quite uncomfortable. I don’t think it’s that he means

to offend or interrogate, but more because he is genuinely interested in what you

have to say on the matter. I suppose I might take offence to some of the questions

he has asked me in the past, but his brilliance in an analytical debate can only be

admired, and with having such admiration for an individual, I find it difficult to take

offence. Besides that, without him I might find tackling “The Dragon” almost too

much, I would have no source of intelligence to recognise my ideas, but simply a

venomous snake snapping viciously at my throat. In fact, he was particularly helpful

tonight whilst we began the discussion of The Lord of the Rings.




I had been looking forward to the topic of debate tonight for several months

now, it was in fact I myself that suggested it and to my great delight as I entered the

room five minutes late, I noticed Margaret hadn’t made an appearance. Margaret

was always five minutes early, at least. Perhaps finally we would have a sensible

discussion without someone shouting down every intelligent piece of thinking or

critical analysis that came to air. It was in fact so. We spent an hour or so

discussing in great depth the brilliance of the novel and the ingenious methods

Tolkien would use to create these wonderful individuals that carried our emotions

through the darkest imagery. I had started to wonder after the said hour what may

have befallen our own personal Sauron, perhaps she was ill and couldn’t quite find

the strength to crawl out of her no-doubt bone-filled lair. It was truly such a breath of

fresh air to be able to release my ideas un-hindered, such a feeling of freedom. That

was of course before the Dark Lord actually arrived. I knew it was too good to be true

and suddenly my wonderful ideas were turned to ash by this fiery daemon. The

Balrog had attended as expected with her fiery whip to crash down any source of

goodness that may be released from our ever thoughtful minds.

Suddenly the discussion turned from a peaceful, calm environment, with

no-one really saying too much, but when it was said, it seemed to be appreciated,

into a wild heated debate with shouting and aggressive hand narration. During our

discussions we often take a moment to reflect how the film version responds to the

demands of the novel. Of course, I immediately suggested that to capture the

characters so wonderfully on screen and bring to life famous images that had only

previously existed in the mind, in such a successful way, deserves a great deal of

credit. I went on to suggest that to meet the huge expectation from a book that was

known by all readers at the time was an incredible success. Margaret looked at me

with her fierce, snake like eyes and actually began to laugh. The Margaret’s (Mine

and David’s other name for her followers) also began laughing in what I must say

was perhaps one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. She then went on to

say that J. K Rowling achieved more success in a shorter amount of time with the

Harry Potter series and appealed to a much wider audience at the same time. Her

argument was that it hit the screen long before The Lord of the Rings even thought

about becoming a screen play. This enraged me, fortunately with David at my side

we battled this fierce beast with fire and venom cracking into the atmosphere with

references to the times each book was written and their real influence on English

literature as we know it. Lord of the Rings had no media hype to spread to the

masses, no internet book shop for people to buy it off and only became so famous

through word of mouth. Tolkien invented the basis of all fantasy books here today,

Harry Potter being one of them. She made me so mad and immediately after I left in

the car with David I spoke to him about the rage I was feeling, another piece of

advice from the doctor.

This night ended with David finally asking me yet another ridiculous question.

Genuinely, quite a humorous one to say the least; “Derek” he said, “If you hate

Margaret so much, why don’t you just leave the book club? It’s clearly making you

very tense and there are all kinds of different clubs you could join without her in it.”

The answer was obvious, I told him it was my book club, you know? My book club. I

wasn’t just going to stand aside and leave it just because some venomous snake

wants her own way. I couldn’t just leave it and find another one, I would have to meet

all the new people and that would take time and I would have to settle in. It was

completely out of the question, moving clubs. I mean what an absurd thing to

suggest, “Moving clubs” just to get away from that, detestable woman? Never in my

life! Of course, my father would turn in his grave.



It’s just not British.