Usually the book club at San Leon Pacific University selects the book they study through a strange sort of unconscious ritual. No one wants to assert themselves, to become a "that guy," so they namedrop and toss out titles with noncommittal passivity. If enough people concur, showing some feint of interest in the suggestion, eventually a snowball of consensus forms and the book is chosen.
Lorenzo did not abide by this unspoken contract. Or maybe he did for some time. But the day I came to visit this group was when he made a clean break with it.
On one side of the table was this guy named Garrett and the group president, Abby. Garrett had lobbied for some recently published nonfiction book, written by some New York Times approved historian who detailed this recently rediscovered Oregon Trail narrative from the perspective of a disillusioned and sickly mother. On the other side of the table was Lorenzo, who was lobbying for the Beautiful and Damned by Scott Fitzgerald.
It was unspoken that Lorenzo should acquiesce, as Garrett had been in the group for longer than he, despite the fact that the enthusiasm for Garrett's pick was nonexistent, or only feigned, because it was the flavor of the month for the most prominent literary tastemakers. Abby had some sincere interest in the subject, but she also leaned strongly towards Lorenzo's pick, having greatly enjoyed the Great Gatsby and maintained an openness to read more Fitzgerald. Most tellingly, anytime Lorenzo spoke her eyes went glassily moist with desire. And this made Garrett rather upset and stubborn.
"Alright," sighed Garrett. "How many books do we still have to choose from?"
He knew the answer to that question was only two, but he intuited this feigned casual ignorance would reinforce the group to his side.
"We're just down to our two," replied Lorenzo. He fixed his gaze on Garrett.
Garrett shuddered at the direct reply, then haughtily raised his eyebrows at someone else in the group who was just as wary of Lorenzo.
Abby darted her eyes between the guys, then pasted on a smile and clapped her hands together.
"Ohh-kay! Let's make sure we are all in accord for our choice. Um, it was the Beautiful and the Damned, right, Enzo?" He nodded, and slid a paperback copy onto the table toward her.
Garrett silently scoffed, and picked up the book.
"Fitzgerald, huh. Haven't heard that name in awhile. People still read him outside of high school english?"
"People of patrician taste and refined breeding." replied Lorenzo.
Garrett chuckled and slid the book back over. "Well, then. We can read it probably, I don't care. We already read Hemingway last year. That was enough typical twentieth-century whiny white male to tide me over for awhile."
"Whiny white male?" replied Lorenzo. "Do you hear yourself? I thought I'd never have to hear any more of that talk coming to San Leon. I had enough of that libtarded pusillanimity during undergrad."
A chuckle rippled through the group, though several shifted in their seats painfully. Garrett's eyes grew wide and he shot an exasperated look at Abby. Abby seemed to reciprocate his shock, and shifted her body away from Lorenzo.
"Really though," said Lorenzo. "This book is an overlooked and underrated classic. Even more underrated than Gatsby. He can conjure in one paragraph what Hemingway can barely do in a whole book. Gemlike sentences abound; you want to start highlighting, then you realize you're going to soak the paper on every page."
"Huh?" said Garrett. "You mean you've read it already?"
"A couple years ago."
"Wow, very strange to be pushing it with such...enthusiasm."
"Objectively speaking, everyone here could find great value in it, as I said last week. Much moreso than the Barnes and Noble front table recommendations we went through last fall. And I've been wanting to reread it for some time now. That's hardly strange. The only books worth reading are worth reading twice. Or more."
"Oh-keyy. Well. Um, Abby, I know we didn't usually have to do this, but should we put it to a vote, or whatever?"
Abby exhaled and sat up. She dreaded the thought, as instituting a vote would bring to light the unspeakable fact of disunity. The goal of the book club, ultimately, was community, and the tallying of a vote this way or that would assuredly puncture the ideal she was sure the whole group shared. The conflict dug into her heart as well, as she began the group hoping Garrett would acquiesce his choice, and now she hoped Lorenzo would. She was not amused by the semi-ironic use of "libtard," because despite her commitment to always vote conservative, she unconsciously held liberals in much a higher regard than herself. They were an aristocracy one was obliged to respect and defer to, only tepidly denouncing their support for abortion and sexual license via the ballot box and softly-worded Instagram stories.
"We could vote," said Lorenzo. "But does anyone here really think they're going to enjoy the Oregon Trail book? Isn't it really just a lot of hype and publicity? And with the ultimate goal of furthering the 'deconstructing' our American mythos? Thanks, I already got that my entire adolescent education and undergrad. I really need another book to postulate the futility of exploration and the immorality of Manifest Destiny!
