The Book Club

“Spinoza! Whose bright idea was it to choose Spinoza? Spinoza was Jeeves’s choice of light reading, if you recall, but Jeeves had a brain the size of the Albert Hall. What earthly chance have I got of analysing a single word Spinoza says? Or even understanding a single word he says. I’m a poet not a bleedin’ philosopher.”

“Well, that’s open to debate for a start. McGonnagel was a poet but I expect even Spinoza would have found it difficult to fundamentalise the essential truth of some of his ramblings, so you’ve got that in common at least. Anyway, you can’t do much worse than your last effort.”

“And what was wrong with that?”

“Well, you read the wrong book essentially. I don’t know about fifty shades, poor old Freda Dawkins was about a hundred and fifty shades grayer when you’d finished. You didn’t have to be quite so graphic.”

“Well, you know me. Tell it like it is.”

“You certainly did that. She won’t have to read it now. And you could have skipped the actions. It’s a Book Club not a Theatre Club.”

“I’m a Performance Poet!”

“And don’t we know it? I don’t think anyone’s going to look at a pelvic thrust in quite the same way again. Especially Freda. Word down the pub is that she’s moved into another bedroom and put a padlock on her husband’s door.”

“Oh, come on. Give me some credit. It was an honest mistake.”

“Oh, it was a mistake alright. I had my work cut out to stop you being banned. Now stop moaning and get stuck in.”

“To Spinoza? A 17th century lens grinder who had nothing to do of an evening but theorise about the human condition? And probably nothing original either. A right life and soul he sounds. I bet he wasn’t married either. I’d sooner do Ulysses - at least there’s a plot line there … somewhere. Was there no other choice?”

“Not that I’m telling you about.”

“Ah! So there was. I saw Freda surreptitiously looking at some D. H, Lawrence at the last meeting - it’s not Lady Chatterley is it? Because she’s been d … I’ll refrain from the obvious comment; even I’ve got some discretion.”

“No, it’s not Lady Chatterley. I don’t think Freda could stand a re-run. Hence Spinoza. Even you can’t make a pantomime out of him. Here you go. I got you a copy.”

“What’s this? Theologica-Politico Treatise: what does that even mean?”

“It’s the last book he ever wrote. He died before it was actually published,”

“What did he die of? Boredom?”

“Probably Silicosis, actually. He was only 44. All that lens grinding.”

“Not that health and safety conscious for a clever bloke, then? What’s it all about anyway?”

“What it says on the box, really, and I quote: ‘He argues what the best roles for state and religion should be, and concludes that a degree of democracy and freedom of speech and religion works best, while the state remains paramount within reason. The goal of the state is to guarantee the freedom of the citizens.’”

“So all that thinking just amounted to stating the bleedin’ obvious, did it? Mind you, I can see the possibilities now. Never thought about Woke, did he - call himself a philosopher? ‘Freedom of the citizens’ … except when there’s a pile of Wokist idiots gluing themselves to the freeway and restricting everyone else’s freedom - and as for freedom of speech, I can soon take that rationalisation apart. Trigger warnings my arse! Spinoza? Bring him on. Oh, and tell Freda she can unlock her virtual chastity belt. Sounds like old Spinoza never had much time for shenanigans locked up in his thinking garrett, so all that thrusting’s going to be confined to mental gymnastics this month. Pity about that. Sounds like Spinoza needs a bit of livening up.”