Wifey
Our book group met once again, this time in the heart of the ethnic enclave of Jewish Los Angeles-- Canter's, the venerable deli on Fairfax, near the Farmer's Market. While there are other equally good delis out there (Nate'n Al, Jerry's, Factor's), Canter's is to my mind the grande dame.
The selection (book, that is!) this time was Wifey, by Judy Blume. I read this ages ago, but my housemate hadn't. She decided it would be a good read for the rest of us, but didn't realize it was going to be a bit more racy than the average Judy Blume book. The rest of us rapidly assured her it was NOT a "chick" book, nor was it necessarily what it appeared to be.
Wifey is the story of a Jewish housewife (thus, the choice of our venue) stuck in a less-than-ideal marriage. While the book is definitely a product of its time (it was published in 1978), it's amazing how well it has held up-- a lot of the themes are definitely issues we deal with today. Over pastrami on rye and other deli faves, we caught up with each other as well as dissected to death Blume's work.
I had originally been introduced to the book by an old friend/flame; however, all I remembered at this time was all the sex in the book (bad, bad me!). After re-reading it though, the book turned out to be far more wistful and thoughtful than I realized. While it isn't the deepest tome out there, it certainly provided more than enough fodder for our group.
Our next read and meeting will be next year, and I'm looking forward to it already. Right now, though, I need to pay attention to the wifey who's patiently waiting for me to stop writing and start giving her the attention she so richly deserves...
The selection (book, that is!) this time was Wifey, by Judy Blume. I read this ages ago, but my housemate hadn't. She decided it would be a good read for the rest of us, but didn't realize it was going to be a bit more racy than the average Judy Blume book. The rest of us rapidly assured her it was NOT a "chick" book, nor was it necessarily what it appeared to be.
Wifey is the story of a Jewish housewife (thus, the choice of our venue) stuck in a less-than-ideal marriage. While the book is definitely a product of its time (it was published in 1978), it's amazing how well it has held up-- a lot of the themes are definitely issues we deal with today. Over pastrami on rye and other deli faves, we caught up with each other as well as dissected to death Blume's work.
I had originally been introduced to the book by an old friend/flame; however, all I remembered at this time was all the sex in the book (bad, bad me!). After re-reading it though, the book turned out to be far more wistful and thoughtful than I realized. While it isn't the deepest tome out there, it certainly provided more than enough fodder for our group.
Our next read and meeting will be next year, and I'm looking forward to it already. Right now, though, I need to pay attention to the wifey who's patiently waiting for me to stop writing and start giving her the attention she so richly deserves...
posted by Mr. Sandman | 9:06 PM
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