I am an end user.
But you know this from previous blogs. I buy books. I do 3 for 2, the occasional Richard and Judy, shortlists, longlists and selected reviews. In other words, as well as reading slush, borderline manuscripts and great books that we are publishing (on the subject of which - why hasn't everyone read Fieldwork, which is just bloody wonderful on every level?) I'm also in a reading group - a core group of six women who meet in each other's kitchens and eat rocket salad and/or aubergines twenty-three different ways, while dissecting other people's masterpieces (or not).
The subject last night was Barack Obama's Dreams from my Father and to spare sending you into a diabetic coma I shall skip over our comprehensive five-minute analysis and go straight to the post-lit crit when we've exhaustively discussed the book (lovely man, that Barack), the food (where did you say you got this recipe from? Nigel Slater, really? He is a lovely man...) and got on to life (husbands, ex husbands, gay husbands, no husbands, not so lovely man, etc).
One of our number (with husband) announced that she was surrounded by people all day but had never felt more isolated. She works in the arts but since most of the other women in her organisation are significantly younger, she felt she had nothing in common with them. 'I just can't have another conversation about a wedding,' she wailed.
I (senza husband) commented that I also worked in an office where most people can't remember when Ballroom Dancing was naff. Most of my colleagues have mothers younger than me. Does it prevent me from talking to them, liking them and enjoying their company? Well of course it does
n't.
(sorry) but I love office banter.
We don't talk about weddings. We talk about literature. We read book reviews.
Aloud.
We swap opera and concert tickets. We weigh up the merits of various restaurants and rate new films. Okay, yes, occasionally there is some discourse about Strictly Come Dancing and sometimes we do share the Kit-Kat of our personal lives around the office (or maybe I alone take the biscuit in this category). However, I find other people's gossip fascinating, even if it is just what they did on the weekend. One of the best parts of my job is the other women in the company.
'But do you go out together,' she asked?
'Sometimes - we have author events and book launches and parties. It's part of being in the publishing business. It's a very convivial place.'
'But do you go clubbing with them?'
'No. (Duh, I mean come on, I still think a Club is a chocolate biscuit). But I didn't go clubbing when I was twenty. It doesn't stop me chatting. I like hearing what they get up to.'
She seemed doubtful. 'I just don't have anything to say.'
'Ah perhaps it's because she's part of the management... ' ventured another member (con husband) of the reading group. 'You know, it sets her apart and means that she can't really mix in the same way as you do.'
I looked at her across the table.
Because, let me see, I'm so far down the company ladder that I'm carrying it under one hand with a pail and a sponge in the other, I didn't say, but thought.
Ah we, the common people.
It's good to talk, in't it?
Pass the rocket salad, will you. If I don't stuff my mouth full of food I may kill her.
