"Salmon Fishing in the Yemen"

Have watched my four-month-old reading group give up the ghost, and I am in mourning.

Cover of Salmon Fishing in the Yemen

It passed on Wednesday night. Left a sour taste in my mouth. . . and it wasn't just the half bottle of rough red I'd downed while cooking the lasagne. I should have taken more notice of "Any Good Books Lately": a paperback I picked up for $2.00 at the Basement Bookshop. It suggested that you need at least 12 eager souls to form a reading group. I kicked off with eight (including me). Some might say it was doomed to failure--an unlikely task--akin to training fish to swim up a dry river bed.

Two members dropped out after the first meeting in April. (E. & M. had not been able to say "no" to me. They wanted to please me, so they came along to meeting number 1 and I appreciate that. They just couldn't go on pleasing me, and I bloody hate them for that.) However, I had forced them to read "The Road" by Cormack McCarthy: a masterpiece, no doubt, but it had given me nightmares, even the third time through. Bleak. Some would say depressing.And then there were six.

Image by -Ant via Flickr

L. made an emergency dash to
London to care for her daughter. J., L.'s partner, stayed away from the next two meetings, too. And then there were four.

Cover of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band

But I met up with an old Moorefield school chum-Y.-and she was enthusiastic about coming to the next meeting in May. Said she'd bring the wine.

A. brought along the nosh: wonderful Leb from deepest

aldous huxley via last.fm

Ashfield. We drank Y's rather special red. Just the three of us. H. couldn't make it that night. The novel was "Brave New World". After we'd made a dent in the dinner, I showed them Aldous Huxley on the cover of "Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band", and shared my scoop about how the Doors had named their band after his book "The Doors of Perception". We discussed "Brave New World" too, at least A.& I did because Y. hadn't reread it.

In June we met at A.'s place. Three present again, but not the same three. This time it was A., as you'd expect, myself and H. (Y. gave Alex a message on my mobile as I was driving to A's place. She wouldn't be there, she said, too much Cert 4 stuff to do.) So, A. & H. & I talked about "Salmon Fishing in the Yemen", which we all panned remorselessly. Comic title, I thought, but the one-liner couldn't carry the whole book. And it was so silly, wasn't it, the idea of flying schools of salmon to the desert for the fishing pleasure of a sheikh. Ridiculous!

We decided we'd read "Shadow of the Wind", by Carlos Ruiz Zafon next time.

Next time was Thursday, 1st July. A. called that afternoon & told me she & H. wouldn't be coming. I already had the lasagne prepared, the vegetables prepped and the house respectable. Oh well, down to four avid readers for the evening. L. & J. arrived promptly & we talked about "Shadow of the Wind". At seven o'clock I decided we should eat, but Y. hadn't arrived. And she hadn't called to cancel this time. I tried to call her, but she never picks up her mobile.

And then there were three.

We ate the lasagne and some delicious broccoli salad which I'd googled the recipe for that morning.

But that flat feeling, as if my insides were coming together, stayed with me. I couldn't sleep. I was reamed out and empty, despite the big meal. Still hungry. Still up at 2 a.m. ruminating on the folly of assuming that my enthusiasm would beget enthusiasm in others.