The Bookclub That Never Agreed

M Mehran

Most bookclubs bond over shared taste. Ours bonded over the exact opposite.

We never agreed on anything—not the genre, not the author, not even the definition of a “good book.” And strangely enough, that was the secret that kept us together.


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Chapter One: Chaos at the Library

It all began at the public library. A flyer taped to the bulletin board read: “Looking for a bookclub? Join us this Saturday. All opinions welcome.”

“All opinions welcome” should’ve been the warning.

When I showed up, the room looked like a mismatched cast of a sitcom. There was Clara, who devoured romance novels like candy. Daniel, a crime-thriller addict with a permanent frown. Marcy, who only read self-help and swore fiction was a waste of time. And then there was me—someone who lived in the world of magical realism and got defensive when anyone called it “confusing.”

The first book we tackled was To Kill a Mockingbird. Within ten minutes, Daniel was arguing it was overrated, Clara was insisting it was “perfectly heartbreaking,” and Marcy was questioning what real-life productivity lessons it could possibly teach. I braced for disaster.

But then something surprising happened: no one left.


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Chapter Two: The Joy of Disagreement

Week after week, we clashed.

When we read a sci-fi novel, Clara rolled her eyes at the lack of romance. When we read a romance, Daniel muttered, “predictable.” When we attempted a philosophy text, Marcy lit up while the rest of us struggled.

And yet, every argument revealed something new. Daniel, the crime buff, once shocked us by admitting a romance novel reminded him of his late wife. Clara surprised herself by enjoying a detective mystery because, as she put it, “the detective was basically in love with the truth.” Even Marcy softened toward fiction after one too many passionate speeches from the rest of us.

We didn’t agree—but we learned.


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Chapter Three: Life Between the Lines

Somewhere along the way, the disagreements spilled beyond books.

Daniel confessed he was lonely since retirement. Clara admitted she joined the club because she was new in town. Marcy surprised us all when she revealed her self-help obsession came from trying to rebuild her life after a messy divorce.

Books were just the excuse. What we were really doing was reading each other.

Once, after a heated debate over The Great Gatsby, we ended up sharing our own “green lights”—dreams we chased or abandoned. Clara wanted to open a bakery. Daniel regretted never traveling abroad. Marcy said she wished she had started painting again. I admitted I’d always wanted to write a novel.

That night, we left the library not with answers, but with the rare comfort of knowing our contradictions made us human.


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Chapter Four: A Turning Point

Then came the night we nearly fell apart.

We had chosen a controversial modern novel, and the discussion got heated—too heated. Voices rose, someone slammed their book shut, and Clara left early in tears. The rest of us sat in awkward silence.

I thought it was over. That the club had finally broken under the weight of its own stubbornness.

But the next week, Clara walked in carrying a tray of cookies. “If we’re going to argue,” she said, “we might as well do it with snacks.”

We all burst out laughing. Just like that, the tension dissolved. It wasn’t about winning debates—it was about belonging, even when we clashed. Especially when we clashed.


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Chapter Five: Beyond the Bookshelves

The club is still going, years later.

We’ve read hundreds of books. We’ve disagreed on 90% of them. But we’ve also celebrated birthdays, mourned losses, cheered on Clara when she finally opened her bakery, and toasted Marcy when she exhibited her paintings for the first time.

Even Daniel surprised us by joining Clara’s book launch party last year. He brought flowers and grumbled, “It’s still predictable,” but the twinkle in his eye said otherwise.

I’m still working on my novel, and every week they ask about it, half-mocking, half-encouraging.


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The Last Page

What I’ve learned from the Bookclub That Never Agreed is this: harmony isn’t the only way to build connection. Sometimes it’s the friction, the sparks of different perspectives, that bind people together.

We didn’t need to love the same books. We just needed to respect that every story—on the page or in a person—was worth hearing.

So if you ever stumble into a bookclub where everyone argues, don’t walk away. Pull up a chair. Because disagreement doesn’t have to divide. Sometimes, it’s the very thing that writes people into your life.

And maybe that’s the greatest story of all.