In an earlier column, we discussed that sharing and enjoying a good story is the most natural thing in the world, and a book club may be just the expression of that collective impulse.

We also discussed that, as a congregation of humans, the book club offers an interesting study in character types. And furthermore, that for a book club to be successful, its members should represent a good balance of character types and opposing forces. We read about the Perplexed Reader, Boss, Procrastinator, Warden, Racer and the Noble. But we did not quite exhaust the colourful characters attracted to a book club, the central character among whom is the Feeder!

We can say that, as a character, the Feeder is central to all kinds of human groups, because eating is something central to human existence and, unless the cooking is wretched, an act that brings joy.

Imagine that you are headed out to attend a wedding. If you are human, one of the more dominant thoughts in your mind is about the food that might be on offer. In like manner, all members of a book club, no matter how abstemious, have some thought of what they might eat at the meeting. In the case of the Feeder, however, eating is the only thought. Once he has arrived at the meeting, surveyed the room, and discovered what is on offer, his mind is finally at peace.

Just like society needs structure and laws to keep diverse groups of people together, the Book Club too, must have a supervising soul, or Mother.

If the offering is to his liking, his mood improves, he may become congenial, and even deliver bon mots, often to his own surprise. If the food on offer is not to his taste, however, he may sulk, become acerbic, and even pick a fight. Take the advice of a Feeder: the minders of literature must keep a close eye on the quality of food served at their book club meetings, for it is central to the book club’s continued health and prosperity.

The Purist’s world is far removed from the world of the Feeder. Her imagination is rather strictly policed and, as a result, it has followed a particular variety of literature that comforts and sustains it, and no other form of literature ever receives her approval. The most entertaining part is that, while Purists are from many different persuasions, they are hidebound in exactly the same manner. And if a distinction is to be made, those who tend towards high-literature are more unreasonable and, therefore, more difficult to get along with. And nobody gets the goat of the Purist quite like the Happy Omnivore.

The reason he is annoying to the Purist is that the Omnivore has had a noisy childhood. It was either filled by friendships or a variety of books, or both. This introduced the Happy Omnivore to shades of human relationships and diverse pleasures, and a recourse to varieties of literature is one way of recreating that diverse culture of the imagination.

But where the preservation of literature’s future is concerned, it is both the Purist and the Happy Omnivore who keep the small literary publishers and presses alive.

The Non-Serious Reader is someone who makes everyone uncomfortable, with the possible exception of the Feeder and the Happy Omnivore. He is clinically unable to finish a book or take literature seriously. But he has a gregarious nature and, just as the Feeder is made happy by the thought of food, the Non-Serious Reader is made happy by the human company he will find at the book club.

Sometimes, he could have character flaws, such as claiming to know the story without reading it, and forming a strong opinion about it. I must confess I have been guilty of both, and the funny part is that, more than once, I’ve been vindicated in my Non-Serious Reader claims and judgements. What it demonstrates is that the Non-Serious Reader is connected to the literary cosmos in a spiritual way and can fathom almost by osmosis the currents that reveal literary truths, which he uses his non-serious nature to articulate.

The Charismatic Narrator is not a reader but the narrator of truths (and also, perhaps, falsehoods) which she brings to literary discussions. These revolve around her person, and every too often the discussion is prone to be hijacked by a well-timed interjection by her such as, the same thing happened to me once! This magical, seven word-long phrase allows her to hijack the narrative and turn everyone’s attention to her story. Pulling this trick is not simple and requires experience and a vast body of lived or fabricated experiences, which can be inserted into the frame story like so many interior stories. In her essence, the Charismatic Narrator is an author who is too impatient to ever sit down to pen her thoughts, and must publish her mini-narratives in the course of group discussions.

Just like society needs structure and laws to keep diverse groups of people together, the Book Club too, must have a supervising soul, or Mother, who tends to the assorted characters and helps them come together as a group. Mother likes to preside over the book club meetings, priding herself on her ability to remain objective in the course of heated and volatile discussions. She seeks to play devil’s advocate, moreover, taking the side of the opposing argument if voluble members have said more than enough on any topic, or else she sides with those she considers too weak-minded or mousey to put up a suitable response or have the ability to defend their own arguments.

Mother delivers her judgements with a smile, while maintaining a sharp scrutiny of her audience. And like all mothers, she has the ability to irritate others and force them to rebel in small and childish ways, which she quells with an all-knowing smile of superiority.

And now we come to the crux, dear Reader: what type are you?

The columnist is a novelist, author and translator.
He can be reached via his website: micromaf.com

Published in Dawn, Books & Authors, October 12th, 2025