Jessica Harper Uncanceled

“So, what did you think of the book, ladies?” I said, with a huge sense of trepidation.

“I have to be honest, I didn’t like it,” said my sister Ashley. “I thought there would be more, like, car chases.”

“Hmm, interesting. What was it about the title Refugee In The Snow that made you think there would be car chases?”

“Yes, Ashley, that’s ridiculous,” said my mom. “Maybe a chase on skis but you can’t drive cars through snow.”

“If we can just move on,” I said. “Did anyone enjoy reading Refugee In The Snow?”

“First I have a question,” said Ashley.

“Okay,” I said wearily.

“Have you always had that picture above the mantelpiece or is it new?”

“She’s always had that,” said Mom, in an outraged tone more suited to the dropping of a baby.

“Can we just stick to the issue at hand?” I said.

“Do you mean the mantelpiece or the book?”

“The freaking book!”

“Well, sorree,” said Mom. “I didn’t realize this was a senate committee. I thought we were here to have fun.”

“Fun?” I said, almost apopleptic. “Mom, it’s a Monday.”

“You should have fun while you can,” said Ashley, who has a perpetually deadpan expression. “My colleague Josie went for a root canal once and never came back.”

“Oh my word, that’s awful,” said Mom. “Was it the anaesthetic?”

“No, she fell down the elevator shaft outside her apartment.”

“Lucky her,” I said. “Anyway, the book.”

“I liked it,” said Mom.

“Good,” I said, relieved as it had been my choice (in case you hadn’t guessed). To belatedly set the scene, there were four of us: me, Mom, Ashley and my cat Wilbur (I am including him to bump the numbers up). There used to be others but they dropped out. When I say others I mean real people, not just family members who kind of don’t have a choice about attending. “What did you like about it?”

“It had a happy ending.”

“Mom, she died at the end.”

“Oh well, I didn’t get that far. And thanks for the spoiler.”

“You’re meant to have read it!”

“I didn’t have time.”

She didn’t have time? All Mom does all day is shout orders at Dad, talk to her friends on the phone, order stuff online and send it back.

“The book was just too cold,” said Ashley. “Where was she anyway? Alaska? Minnesota?”

“She was in Russia,” I said. For the love of God, was I related to these people? Could I quit my own book club?

“Russia? What was she doing there?”

“She lived there! She was Russian.”

“Well, that’s not my problem. And what was she a refugee from?”

“She was a refugee because – well, I mean, Stalin, obviously. Look, if you’d read it-.”

“Yes, why was she a refugee?” said Mom. “Stalin’s reign surely only caused hardship to people within his own country, unless you’re talking about the so-called Great Patriotic War, where he deported millions of civilians to Siberia and Central Asia.”

What the hell? Was this real? Had Mom just turned into an expert on 20^th century Russian history? Was this a dream?

“Well, I don’t want to spoil it for you,” I said, realizing I had none of the answers. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“She doesn’t know,” said Ashley, who is my twin and can read my mind.

“I’m sorry if Ashley and I didn’t enjoy your Communist novel as much as you did,” said Mom.

“I never said I enjoyed it,” I said. “I haven’t had a chance to, you know, offer an opinion yet.”

“Well, did you?”

“Not really.”

“You see?” said Mom, and sat back, arms folded, sporting a Chesire Cat-like grin.

“Fine,” I said. You have to know when you’re beaten. “Next book, ladies?”

“How about we read everything Dickens ever wrote?” said Mom.

“That might be a little ambitious, Mom,” said Ash. “It took us four months to read Bridget Jones’s Baby.”

“How about we go bowling once a month instead?” said Mom.

“Seconded,” said Ashley.

“Thirded,” I said. “I hereby declare the Ladies of East Georgia Book Club officially dissolved.”

“Was that the name of the book club?” said Ashley.

“Apparently,” said Mom. “Can I have some more Prosecco?”

Read more about our excruciating literary group in Jessica Harper And The Vegas Book Club Mystery, due to be published in spring 2025.