A few months ago I joined a book club. My first ever, and boy did I feel instant book geek gratification. A book! club. Where all we do is eat dessert! and read! books! One could pass out from the sheer excitement of it all.

But, seriously. I was excited. Because strawberries and home-made pound-cake? SO good. And books to read, with the added perk of not having to choose all of them, combined with the accountability factor? Exactly what I had been needing. An excuse to get out of the house once a month, AND the determination acquired guilt to actually FINISH a book, thankyouverymuch? Yes, please.

We even ended our first meeting with a little thematic sing-songing. Our chosen theme song went a little something like, “We Represent the! Paperback Ladies Guild.” Or I could have just made that right up. But I still imagine our imaginary theme song being sung to the tune of “We Represent the Lollipop Guild” from The Wizard of Oz, only with less creep-factor. Because I think we all can admit that wily wizard and his playground Oz had a lot of creep factor. Not to even mention the flying monkeys. And the sleepy poppy juice.

Moving right along then.

As excited as I was about my newfound monthly accountability and pound-cake I only went to one meeting, because, well, the whole destination wedding extravaganza, followed closely by the buying a puppy and moving to another state adventures.

For awhile there was scarcely time to sleep and bathe regularly, let alone sit quietly and read interesting and dynamic prose. All of that is about to change, however, because I am hereby carving out some reading time for myself, and anyway, I’m almost done unpacking.

The new job doesn’t start until Monday 11.12, and until then I do of course have myriad loose ends to tie and knot firmly, not the least of which is finishing mailing wedding announcements to family and friends, and also letting everyone know that, ahem, we MOVED have time to read. Or so I am telling myself. Denial is half the battle, right?

So, with only a bit more adieu, I bring you: books I must! finish this fall, upon pain of being stoned with hardbound romance novels, and “this fall” hereby ending on December 25th because I’m holding out for no snow up until then, and also, I ‘m a cheater started this list-making a bit late this year:

1. Reading Lolita in Tehran, by Azar Nafisi
2. How We Are Hungry, by Dave Eggers
3. The Inheritance of Loss, by Kiran Desai
4. Deep Survival, by Laurence Gonzales

Added to Le List: Our first two book-club Paperback Ladies Guild books, that I never finished, because as previously noted, I am awesome:

5. Death Comes to the Archbishop, by Willa Cather
6. The Scarlet Pimpernel, by Baroness Von Something

I was originally selected to choose November’s book for my long-lost book club, and although I had months to decide and then simultaneously change my mind, I instantly knotted up inside, because oh! the responsibility, and oh! the choices. My mind always reels with the sheer number of choices when faced with such decisions. Faulkner or Shelley? Melville or Carmen Electra? It’s just such a close call.

(What are YOU reading right now, or maybe someday?)