A left turn, just off Regent Street, took me to an urban cul-de-sac that was packed with restaurants. I had never been there before. My destination turned out to be a cool looking vegetarian place that sold expensive organic beer. I found the book group sitting at a large table that had been reserved for ten people, but only two had turned up: Cathy, the organiser, and Mike.
Despite having over five hundred members, the group had become moribund; there had been only one meeting during the previous year, which had been all about ‘slow sex and orgasmic meditation’. Cathy was going to try to re-launch the group.
‘I couldn’t help but noticed that you joined today. What attracted you to the group?’ asked Cathy. I started to explain that their event was the first one that was held at seven o’clock in the evening before sharing a quick outline of my quest.
‘Okay, but do you have any interest in psychology?’
‘I do!’ I explained that I had studied a bit of cognitive psychology at university.
Cathy, it turned out, was taking a module in Government and Politics at the London School of Economics, and Mike worked in IT as a civil servant.
‘I write computer software that goes through lots of different data sources. I help to create evidence that could be used to convict people’ explained Mike.
I wanted to ask him more about the kinds of work that he did, but I was mindful that we were there to talk about psychology, not IT or data privacy.
It turned out that Mike had been to quite a few meetings of the Psychology Book Club: ‘I like to think when I stopped going that was when the group disbanded, but there’s probably other reasons…’
‘So, what kinds of psychology books do you like? I mean, there’s a huge spectrum, ranging from pop-psychology on one hand through to really academic texts…’
‘One book I really liked was “The Psychology of Romantic Love”’. It turned out that Mike was also a fan of ‘Falling in Love: Why we choose the lovers we choose’. Cathy appeared to be genuinely interested. ‘Apparently, one of the big factors when it comes to falling in love is proximity’ explained Mike. I was starting to cringe at what was clearly a particularly cheesy chat up line.
‘One book that I found was really interesting was “Why Women Have Sex”’, continued Mike. ‘It was really interesting! Apparently there are loads of different reasons, and some of them are, like, really dark. Men, on the other hand, only have two reasons’.
‘Two reasons?’ I asked. ‘What’s the second one?’
I took a sip of my organic lager. What was annoying me was that Mike was clearly good at his ‘chat up patter’. Mike was also younger, Mike had all his hair, and Mike was (arguably) quite a lot more handsome than I was. I soon got a measure of the dynamics of the conversation: whenever I added to the conversation, Mike offered a story that was ‘one better’ than mine. I didn’t mind, though; I was just an observer who was passing through; Mike could talk as much as he wanted to. I was happy to listen.
Cathy was interested in social psychology. She told us about a book called ‘The Family Crucible: the intense experience of family therapy’; she spoke about how relationships between partners can have a profound effect on a relationship between parents and their children. She explained that patterns of behaviour can repeat themselves between generations. I had heard about family therapy, but I had no idea how it would work, or even the circumstances in which it might be applied.
An hour and a half into the Meetup, we were joined by a new member: Lucy. Lucy worked as a translator, but was considering taking a postgraduate degree: she wanted to become a counsellor. Cathy knew something about counselling: before becoming a counsellor you have to undergo a period of counselling so you’re able to gain an insight into the process (and to learn more about yourself). Lucy was reading a book called ‘The Happiness Trap’.
The conversation moved between the psychology of cats and the theory that having a cold shower every morning is good for you (because every day you’re going to be ‘out of your comfort zone’) to the idea that explicitly ‘choosing’ to be happy is bound to make you become profoundly miserable. Electric cars were discussed, along with a story that a French woman once married the Eiffel Tower.
Lucy turned the conversation around to the business of the night: choosing a book to read. She asked us all for suggestions. Even though I wasn’t going to be returning to the group, I was asked for a suggestion. I suggested one of my favourite books by a neurologist called Oliver Sacks. I’m particularly fond of two of his books: ‘The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat’ and ‘An Anthropologist on Mars’. Predictably Mike suggested a popular psychology book about love and romance, but since the reforming of the group was Cathy’s initiative, Cathy would have the privilege.
She opted for a book called ‘What Do Women want: exploring the myth of dependency’ by Eichenbaum and Orbach. Cathy explained the premise of the book, but due to the effects of a second glass of beer, I didn’t take in much about what she told us, other than it was about the effects of important relationships and trying to reframe the notion of dependency.
After the book had been chosen, Lucy decided to call it a night and Mike said it was getting late. I put on my jacket, picked up my bag, and said goodbye to everyone.
I walked up the stairs, left the restaurant and found my way back to Regent Street. The whole evening had been unexpectedly eclectically enjoyable, despite Mike’s testosterone. I thought about the group as I picked my way through the crowds milling around Oxford Circus. Could a book group about any book about psychology (including fiction) work?
The answer was: if there is someone like Cathy leading it, then yes, it probably would.
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