Why I Wanted to Start a Book Club

I’ve been craving a space that feels like mine.

Not in a “new project” way.
In a this is missing from my life way.

I kept thinking I wanted a book club and then immediately talking myself out of it. Because every version I imagined came with rules. Assigned reading. Deadlines. The quiet pressure to keep up, even when the book wasn’t hitting.

And I know myself well enough to know that wouldn’t last.

The moment reading turns into obligation, I shut down. I lose the drive. I avoid the book. And then suddenly I’m not reading at all. I fall into a slump, and when that happens, it’s not casual. I stop completely.

Reading isn’t just a hobby for me. It’s how I regulate. It’s how I escape. It’s how I come back to myself. I’m not willing to sacrifice that just to be part of something structured.

I have to want a book.
I have to feel pulled toward it.
Anything else dies on the nightstand.

What I realized recently is that the part I’ve been loving has nothing to do with structure anyway.

It’s the conversations.

Talking with friends about what they’re reading right now. Listening to someone describe a book with that half-lit-up, half-wrecked look on their face. Watching someone read a book I loved years ago and getting to feel it all over again through them.

It’s laughter and tears and outright rage. Especially at stupid, brainless female characters who make unforgivable choices and deserve better writing. It’s opinions and feelings and reactions. Not analysis. Not summaries. Not trying to sound smart.

Just real responses to stories that got under our skin.

That’s the book club I want.

Not one where everyone reads the same thing and pretends to agree. But one where books are on the table, conversation wanders, and no one feels like they have to perform.

Bring whatever you’re reading.
Talk about it if you want.
Sit quietly if you don’t.

Nothing needs to be finished.
Nothing needs to be defended.

I want a space where reading stays alive, where curiosity leads instead of rules. Where the point isn’t to consume books correctly, but to enjoy them honestly.

So this is me making the thing I couldn’t find.

A book club without homework.
Without guilt.
Without pretending.

Just people who love reading, sitting in the same room, letting the conversation go where it wants to go.

That’s it.
That’s the whole reason.