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5. Oliver Dobson (The Truth About Books and Boys)

I have never met a book that I didn't like. Well, actually, that's not entirely true. I've met many books that I haven't liked, but the concept of them being books has never deterred me from delving into their existences. (I know the ending of a book before I read it, so I don't often read books that I don't like). In short: I like books. Love them, even. I am a self-professed bibliophile in every sense of the term.

When I was packing for college, I tried bringing more books than clothes, which my mother caught before I got away with it. Luckily for me, I convinced her that flying thirty minutes to Rhode Island was insane, so we drove to school with one suitcase for my clothes and another for my books. But even then, it was so difficult picking which books I would bring and which I would leave. I think that I managed to narrow it down to around thirty or so books, half of which were fiction, the remainders either biographies or histories. (My favorite biographies are the ones pertaining to dead poets). (My favorite American time period to learn about is by far the 1950s, in which America was blessed with so many cultural revolutions).

Since I happen to attend a university at which reading is considered an acceptable pastime, my freshman roommate didn't think anything of my bibliophilism. If anything, Teddy (my roommate) wanted to know about my books and why I chose to bring them instead of others. He had his own collection of sacred books that he brought along, though most of them were Classics that any well-read person owned. Teddy possessed the stringent belief that nothing compared to the Classics. He also liked keeping them around because it reminded him of where literature began. I can't disagree with him on that front.

In fact, I can't disagree with Teddy on many fronts. We get along extraordinarily well, so much so that we intend on rooming together again during this upcoming year. Neither of as are particularly rowdy in terms of revelry, though we'll occasionally split a bottle of wine when we're in the mood. Teddy is majoring in econ, and I'm a boring English major, so most of the time that we're in our dorm consists of Teddy doing math and me reading. Moreover, I'm barely around on the weekends, so we've never run into any "sexile" situations (yet!).

The reason I don't frequent the dorm/the campus/Rhode Island on the weekends is because I take the train down to Upstate New York to visit Emily at Hamilton. Initially, she wasn't exactly thrilled about being stationed in the Siberia of New York, but she liked Hamilton enough and didn't want to have her heart broken over an Ivy, so she settled. I still think she could've gone for Wesleyan or Cornell, but that's just me. (She got denied from Amherst, which we don't talk about for obvious reasons). She's happy, overall.

Freshman year was a good year for me, and I like to think that it was equally as good for Emily. I made friends, I met other delusional white males like myself with aspirations to pen the next Great American Novel, and I improved my writing-ten-pages-a-night-without-losing-all-sanity-or-sleep skills. The environment was hyper erudite (as I hope it will continue to be for the next three years), something that I have craved from the moment I realized that not everyone in high school wanted to be academically or cerebrally challenged. At Brown, it's hard to find people who would pass up the opportunity for an impromptu debate over something trivial yet intellectually satiating, like whether medicine was first implemented in the East or in the West. This past year was really the first time in my life that I had ever experienced the quintessence of mental fullness. My mind was constantly on, as I was continuously exposed to other people who wanted to be actively as engaged as I. In a word, college was fulfilling.

Meanwhile, as I enjoyed myself to my brain's content, Emily had a bit of a different experience—still good, just different. I came to college from one of the best public high school systems in the great Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Emily came to from one of the best private boarding schools in the world. For four years, she had already encountered the types of people that I later met at college. In fact, I met some of the very same people with whom she went to school, which was perfectly logical, seeing as how it was fitting for students from Emily's school to go on to Brown. In their life trajectories, Brown was an okay option because it was Ivy and because they probably had an in with the admission people. Nevertheless, Emily did not entirely want to spend her years in higher education with the same types of people to whom she had already been subjected long enough.

Emily wanted different—she wanted less. Honestly, she would've been content at any school that's claim to fame wasn't its prestige. But her parents would never allow her to do that, so they settled on Hamilton. It's a fine institution; I just don't believe that it's the right one for Emily Albert. But that's none of my business.

Emily made friends. She didn't join a sorority, but she did get involved in the paper. She liked their food, and she seemed to like her classes. However, from my perspective, she was not at all challenged. A girl like Emily Albert needs to be constantly stimulated, or else she runs the risk of coasting by. Emily coasted by in high school. She got good enough grades, neither excelled nor failed socially, and was involved only enough to satisfy an admissions committee. If she went to a different school or even decided to apply herself at Hamilton, she would be able to get more out of her experience than just a basic education in the liberal arts. But I'm just the supportive boyfriend, so what do I know?

On our summer leave from independence, Emily and I have both acquired internships, connected to the college circuit outside of Boston. Emily is giving tours at the State House, and I am working at a startup, managing a lot of their social media, press coverage, and the writing of their mission statement. I don't entirely understand the business aspect of the company, but I do know that they somehow transfer allocated funds into a big pool and invest in third-world country businesses. I mainly run their Twitter.

I'm living at my parents' house, while Emily—an out-of-stater—is inhabiting a dorm building, along with fellow interns like herself and nationally renowned college basketball superstars. Among those basketballers is one Elizabeth Turner, who plays for the University of Connecticut (I would list her position, but sadly athletics are not a realm in which I possess authority or knowledge).

Emily met Liz during a seemingly awkward interaction involving an unlocked bathroom door and a shower. They became good acquaintances, always greeting each other in the hallways or in the local sushi bar. What transformed their relationship was when Emily invited Liz and Liz's boyfriend, Dylan, to book club. Liz initially had her reservations, but Emily hadn't wasted four years on the debate team for nothing, so Liz eventually conceded and decided to give book club a chance, much to Dylan's dismay.

We got involved with this particular book club through the thoughtful flower child, Ari Remon. Ari was working at one of Emily and my favorite haunts, Paige's Turners. It was a bookstore filled with new and used books. As a couple, one our favorite pastimes to do in the royal "we" is visit bookstores. Usually, we'll find a place and stick with it for a while until we either exhaust its resources or we stumble upon something grander. But with Paige's Turners, Emily and I always manage to return, because the abundance of books seems infinite.

This summer, upon meandering into Paige's Turners, we were met by a quiet creature with wide eyes and a calming disposition. She revealed herself to us as Ari, a transitory visitor taking a sojourn on this side of the country, along with her companion, Eric. She talked very little, but was helpful when we needed advice about books to read or what type of sandals to buy (answer: Naot). She also invited us to join a fledgling summer book club that she and one by the name of Natalie were establishing. As it turned out, the book club was to be a couples' book club, and the Natalie was of the Perry variety (as in Natalie Perry, model extraordinaire).

Ari asked if there was anyone else we wanted to invite, so Emily came up with Elizabeth Turner and Olivia Ross. Olivia Ross was an old friend of Emily's who she had met years ago in parent-inflicted summer camp. The two had bonded over a loathing for the natural world and for the other campers who did not loath the natural world. Olivia was a few years older than us, but they had collided because they both refused to swim in the camp's lake during free swim. So along with their designated counselor stationed on the grass, the two nature-hating girls forged a friendship of sorts.

The way Emily tells the story, both she and Olivia always carried around books, despite being in the middle of the wilderness with a plethora of experiential learning opportunities. They were always content turning to fictional worlds instead of the existing one. (Olivia was also a bit of an artist, but what Emily most fondly remembers of her is her reading).

About a year ago, before going away, Emily ran into Olivia at an awards event for privileged young ladies who had completed x, y, and z. Olivia was a rising sophomore at Harvard, having graduated from the prestigious Theodore Henry Elks Academy (or THE Academy, for short) in her earlier years. Emily shared her news about Hamilton, which was no Harvard, but it was still nothing to sneeze at. The two reconnected and had the occasional chai tea date on Sunday mornings.

Thus, when it came time to picking who on earth could possibly join this small little club, Emily immediately thought of her old camp friend who had abhorred nature yet loved books almost as much as she. Olivia joined the club, bringing along her reluctant boyfriend, Lucas Daniels.

With a name like Lucas Daniels, Emily and I assumed that this boyfriend would be as well bred and learned as Olivia herself. What we had not accounted for was that Olivia's boyfriend would come in a vessel coated in tattoos with a hankering for cigarettes and hard liquor. He is the most intriguing archetype I have ever met, and I always can't help but wonder how Olivia's parents feel about him. If I for one brought home a boy covered in ink with a smidge of a substance abuse problem, my parents certainly would not be the visions of support. However, Luke seems smart, and Emily told me that he went to THE and then dropped out of MIT, so at least he's got that going for him.

Thus, with Emily's invitees, the book club was born.

The oracle of obscure literature, Ari, picked the book: Af Venner og Blomster (Of Friends and Flowers). It's a modern Danish saga pertaining to the interconnected lives of five friends. So far, I have been pleasantly surprised by how intriguing and unique the plot is (though I am fully aware of how it ends). While it is chalked full of drama, what I like about the novel is that it's not American drama or streamline-Euro drama. It's a Danish book, and in all my extensive years of reading, I have never actually read anything by a Danish author (at least, not that I can easily recall). There's this sense of starkly serene stoicism embedded within the plot that interests me most. For example: Ida gets pregnant by way of Soren, playboy extraordinaire who is in love with Freja. Instead of reacting irrationally as one would expect from a girl in Ida's position, Ida handles the complicated pregnancy with a sense of duty, never expressing any real anger or frustration. She just takes on her pregnancy and runs away without a trace.

Ida's character particularly stands out to me, not just because of how she deals with her pregnancy, but also because of her position. Both Mikkel and Iver are deeply in love with her, as the author writes, "They were both unequivocally in love with Ida. Her mere existence swelled that love, and she could do nothing to change that. Even when she vanished under a waxing moon, they continued to love her. They loved her with their entire beings, despite never receiving even a shard of reciprocation from the missing girl in question. Their love was indisputably misplaced. But they couldn't help themselves—Ida had pilfered their hearts." This is a grandiose love, yet Ida cannot do anything about it. She doesn't love the boys in the same way that they love her, and she doesn't want to be cruel by continuing their fruitless love. Yet at the same time, there is nothing she can do about it. She loves Soren.

Soren is also a truly complex character. Everyone around him loves him. And because they love him, he can cause as much destruction as he wants to, with little to no consequences. He can sleep with Ida, who he knows is in love with him, and who he also knows is loved by Mikkel and Iver. But he doesn't care. Having a drunken one-night stand with Ida serves his purpose, even though it completely destroys Ida's life. And even in the wake of Ida's ruin, he shacks up with Freja, who he genuinely loves, because she's finally ready to take him seriously as a man. Soren is motivated by his immediate demands. He must get what he wants, regardless of what it takes.

I could go on, but I've made my point: it's a good book. Great, even. I like the unexpectedness of it all. Emily likes Freja.

For today's meeting, we were supposed to read more of what happened in the aftermath of Ida's sudden departure. Nothing eventful: everyone got drunk, Freja and Soren engaged in sexual relations once again, and Mikkel and Iver talked about the flower shop (they had since gotten over the little hiccup in their friendship of when Iver shot Mikkel). While the book itself is currently at a lull drama wise, the same cannot be said for our little book club. A lot had happened during the last meeting.

First, Natalie Perry's boyfriend/platinum recording artist/movie star Mason Grey was MIA. So Natalie spent the whole meeting searching for him, which of course caused of all commoners to speculate as to where Mason (who Emily happens to be quite fond of on a purely fan level) could possibly be. As it turned out, he wandered into a bar and drank himself into a tizzy. But the story deepens: Ari sent out an email last night, saying that Natalie and Mason probably weren't going to make it to book club today, because they were just coming back from a week of R&R at home (in California). So there was that.

But on top of that, Luke Daniels also didn't show up last time. Olivia claimed that it was because he was working, but Emily and I didn't believe it. He hates the book club. I think he finds it restricting, but I could be reading that completely wrong. Regardless, with Luke and Mason's absences, the club felt a bit void of character.

Today Emily and I arrive late, because on the way over we got caught up in this disagreement about Ayn Rand (I was pro, Emily was con). But when we do eventually enter the bookstore, we have brought Costa Rican tea that was possibly farmed by child laborers, but it doesn't say so on the packaging. (All we know for sure is that the tea is imported from Costa Rica and that it's very sweet and flavorful). Everyone is sitting around in a circle when we get to the back room, and I immediately notice that Natalie and Mason are not and most probably will not be present for today's meeting. But Luke is here (at least physically), so at least we're only down by two and not three.

Dylan and Liz have taken up residence in the couch that is usually inhabited by Mason and Natalie. To their left are Olivia and Luke, and to their right Ari and Eric. Emily and I sit down in two out of the four empty seats. Though eight is a solid, strong number, it feels small in comparison to the grand ten that this club should be.

Ari greets us with a wave and a smile, followed by Olivia who perks up at the sight of Emily.

Because this club is primarily female driven, I always feel like Emily is my only true ally in the room. She connects with the other girls, but since the other guys don't genuinely want to be here, I'm kind of stuck on an island, with Emily as my only connection to the mainland. While the girls do listen to what I have to say when we talk about the book, it's the before and after chats in which I can't partake. I could join the guys' discussions, but I have nothing to say about sports or cars or tattoos or drugs. Eric definitely has contributions to the predominantly male conversations, but he never participates. If anyone, he's probably the one I feel like I would have the most luck conversing with, but I haven't given it much effort. Eric is all about the environment and sustainability, which is a noble cause, I just happen to not have a strong opinion on the mater. I know that global warming is bad, but I'm far too self-absorbed to give any more thought to it than that.

Ari begins by confirming that, yes, Natalie and Mason will not be joining us today. Then we begin to discuss the past week's reading. It's a bit dull, honestly—the reading and the discussion, that is. Nobody has much to say, and there is a palpable energy deficiency in the air with the subtraction of the two supernovas. Even Liz's stardom doesn't hold a candle to what we're missing. Emily feels it too.

Nevertheless, we beat on, boats against the current, borne ceaselessly back into the story as we power through and discuss the nothingness of the reading (Fitzgerald/Dobson mash-up). I pour myself a cup of tea that has possibly encouraged child labor in Costa Rica and listen as my dear girlfriend Emily Albert (Emily Dobson has such a nice ring to it, too) manages to dissect the text and zero in on the minute details that lesser minds have overlooked. She is a supernova.