Book club. Stop laughing at me.

The first rule of Book Club is you never talk about Book Club...

Okay, so I belong to a book club. Let's get a few things out of the way...

First, book clubs are not for aged aunts, soccer moms and eccentric spinsters with more cats than sense.

Second, as much as you'd like to get on Oprah for starting a book club to make herself look more evolved than the fluffy-haired Oprah of yesteryear best remembered for wheeling out a wagon full of fat, remember that (a) she did get the unwashed masses to start reading again, and (b) she singlehandedly lifted the publishing industry out of obscurity.

Our book club is comprised of four bright, educated women and one equally bright and educated male (and no, he's not gay). I like book club because it allows me to feel as if my education has not gone to waste. My fellows members have politely endured my mini-lecture on the typical mindset of the post-colonial (anti)hero, and they've been warned to beat me mercilessly should I introduce postmodernism into the discussion.

So the whole point of this ramble is that this month we are reading *The Swallows of Kabul* by Yasmina Khadra. And I came across a line so stunning, I just wanted to share it with you.

"He's worried about his irresistible impulse to spoil with two words what he's spent a hundred begging for."

Wow - haven't you dated that guy, ladies?