SynopsisWhile reading often feels like a personal journey, the magic of book clubs and literary festivals transforms it into a shared adventure. These gatherings resonate with the olden days of storytelling, where communities united around tales by the fire. Conversations flow, exploring characters’ complexities and thematic nuances, but what truly shines is the camaraderie forged through mutual literary passions.The solitary act has given rise/ reverted to a communal oneReading is, by design, an antisocial act. You and another human whispering in your head. And, then, we invented the book club and literary soiree that dragged this private communion into gatherings over hummus, opinions and tea. Then there are author readings. The writer, who spent 3 mths/yrs in another solitary act - writing - is thrust before an audience that claps politely while hearing aloud what they could have read silently. It's like watching a hermit explain why solitude is best - while surrounded by 200 strangers. But, maybe, this isn't so strange after all. Before the book was invented, stories and information dissemination were communal: Homer declaimed epics to crowds, pandits read out the Upanishads, griots sang histories. Reading alone is an historical anomaly. The book club is just society's attempt to restore the original group therapy session that was storytelling.Still, the comedy remains. We solemnly debate whether Mr Darcy was misunderstood, as if Jane Austen were waiting in the kitchen to clarify. We nod gravely at metaphors, then argue over wine about whether Devdas Mukherjee was 'relatable' in Sarat Chatterjee's novel. In truth, the book club and lit fest are less about books than about clubs and fests. Reading is one thing, the ancillary activities - entertaining, illuminating as they may be - quite something else. ...moreElevate your knowledge and leadership skills at a cost cheaper than your daily tea.Subscribe Now