Third Place Co.
A short stack of well-thumbed paperbacks lying flat with their page edges to the camera, a cup of tea beside them.

How to pick books for a book club

A pick is homework you assigned to your friends. Get it wrong and half the room quietly fails the assignment, and people who fail an assignment stop turning up.

That is the whole reason this deserves a system rather than a taste. The failure is not that the book was bad. It is that it was long, or expensive, or only available in hardback, or heavier than anybody was told, and each of those quietly excludes a specific person who will not tell you why they stopped coming.

The ten-point standard

Run a candidate through this before you post it in the chat. Missing two points is survivable. Missing six is a month of apologizing.

  1. Under 400 pages. A month is shorter than it looks once a job is in it.
  2. Out in paperback. Hardcover-only is $28 to $32 a head, and the club otherwise costs nothing.
  3. A year old, minimum. Used copies go cheap and the library hold queue goes short.
  4. In the library catalog. Somebody is broke this month and will not say so.
  5. On audio as well. Audiobooks count as reading. Say that out loud, once, and mean it.
  6. Name the translator. Four editions of a translation is four different books in one room.
  7. Somebody in it behaves badly. Books everybody admires make short meetings.
  8. It stands alone. Book three of anything shrinks the room to the people who did the prep.
  9. Flag the heavy parts. If it turns on assault or a dead child, say so when you announce it.
  10. One sentence on why. If the reason needs a paragraph, it is a defense rather than a recommendation.

The shape that comes out the other side: a 250 to 350 page paperback, a year old or more, in the library and on audio, with at least one person in it worth arguing about.

Why page count outranks taste

Of the ten, the first is the one people most want to negotiate, and it is the one that most reliably decides how the meeting goes.

The number of people who arrive having finished is a function of length far more than of quality. A brilliant 600-page novel produces a meeting where three people read it and five feel guilty, and the guilt is what does the damage. It is not that the five did not enjoy the book. It is that they now associate the club with an assignment they failed, and the next time the date comes around they have something else on.

A good 300-page book that eight people finished is a better club night than a great 600-page book that three finished. That is not a claim about literature. It is a claim about what a club is for.

Four of the ten are about money

Paperback, a year old, in the library, on audio. Those four points are all the same point wearing different hats: the club should cost close to nothing to attend.

Somebody in every group of eight is having a tight month, and they will not announce it. A hardback-only new release is a $30 cover charge, and the person who cannot pay it does not say "I cannot afford this book", they say they are busy that week. Two of those in a row and they have left the club without ever having a conversation about it.

Say the audiobook line out loud, once, in an early meeting: audiobooks count. Somebody in the room has been quietly treating their commute listening as not quite reading, and they are one of your most reliable finishers.

Pick the book somebody can be wrong about

Point seven is the one that makes the meeting worth attending. A book everybody admires produces forty minutes of agreement and an early finish.

What you want is a book with a person in it who behaves badly, or whose author's sympathies are arguable, or which asks for something the reader is not sure they want to give. Then the room has somewhere to go, and the quiet people have a foothold, because "I could not stand him" is a much easier first contribution than an observation about structure.

This is the same job the wildcard does in a tasting flight: it hands the quiet person something to have an opinion about. A table that merely likes everything does not have a conversation, whether the thing being liked is a saison or a novel. There is more on that mechanic in the piece on building a flight.

Three picking systems, and what each costs

Every system has a failure mode. Choose the one whose failure you can live with.

  • Rotating pick. One person picks, everybody reads it, the pick passes on. Costs: you read things you would have skipped. That is also the benefit, and it is why this is the default. It guarantees variety, spreads responsibility, and gives every member one month a year where they are the reason everybody is here.
  • Shortlist vote. Candidates go in the chat, the club votes. Costs: the safest book always wins. Voting selects for the least objectionable option, which is the opposite of the criterion in point seven, and after four months the list looks strangely bland with nobody having chosen that.
  • Theme year. Twelve themed slots, set in January. Costs: one weak theme owns an entire month, and it is usually somewhere around August. Excellent for a club that already has momentum, risky for a new one.

Whichever you use, announce the next pick in the room, out loud, before anybody goes home. A pick negotiated in a group chat over the following fortnight loses two weeks of reading time, which turns a 350-page book into a 400-page one.

How to flag a hard book without spoiling it

One sentence, at the announcement, in plain language: this one deals with X. Not a synopsis, not a warning label, not an apology. A person who does not want to spend a month inside that subject now knows, and everybody else has learned nothing about the plot.

Organizers skip this out of a worry that it sounds precious. It is the opposite: it is the same category of courtesy as telling a table which beer has the highest alcohol in it before they taste it, and it is the reason somebody who has been in the club for a year is still in it.

The first three picks matter most

A new club is deciding what it is, and it decides on the evidence of the first three books.

Make the first one short, recent enough to be cheap, and easy to have an opinion about. Something around 250 pages that most of the room can finish in three weeks. The goal for meeting one is not depth, it is eight people who finished a book and had a good evening, because that is the experience they are deciding whether to repeat.

Save the ambitious pick for month four, when there is a habit to spend. And when it lands and half the room did not get through it, which will eventually happen to any club, the meeting still works if you run it correctly: the questions that work on a book nobody finished are the same thirty that work on one everybody did.

The rest of the setup, the slot, the size, the host rota and the rule that keeps people coming back, is in how to start a book club. And if a monthly book turns out to be the wrong excuse for the group you have, the same eight-week structure runs a beer club or a run club instead.

Questions

How long should a book club book be?
Under 400 pages, and 250 to 350 is the shape that works. A month is shorter than it looks once a job is in it, and the page count is the single strongest predictor of how many people arrive having finished. A brilliant 600-page novel produces a meeting of three people who read it and five who feel guilty.
Should book club picks be new releases?
Usually not. A book that is at least a year old is out in paperback, cheap secondhand, and short on the library hold queue. A new hardback release costs $28 to $32 a head and puts a real barrier in front of anybody having a tight month, which they will not mention.
How do you choose a book everybody will like?
You do not, and aiming for it is the mistake. A book everybody admires makes a short meeting. Pick one where somebody behaves badly, or where the author's sympathies are arguable, and the discussion writes itself. Consensus is pleasant and it is not a conversation.
What is the best system for choosing book club books?
A rotating pick, where one member picks, everybody reads it, and the pick passes on. It guarantees variety and gives everybody a turn at being responsible. A shortlist vote sounds more democratic and reliably elects the safest book on the list. A themed year is fun and hands one weak theme an entire month.
Should you warn a book club about difficult content?
Yes, in one plain sentence when you announce the pick. If a book turns on assault, a dead child, or something else somebody may not want to spend a month inside, say so. It costs one line, it spoils nothing, and it lets a person choose. The alternative is finding out in the room.
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