I’m in the heads of these ladies, imagining the silent demerits they will offer to words like "heartbreaking," (too sad), "epic" (too long), "thought-provoking" (meh, could go either way). Any book that features the loss of a child is out, no debate. Spousal abuse, cruelty to animals, anything hinting at a conservative world-view (unless it’s written by someone who abandoned that world-view), nope, nope, and nope.

She fears that the group, mostly made up of tired young mothers, don't have the energy at the end of the day to tackle a serious book:

Is that a lame excuse? Have I, and our other club members, become lazy? Complacent? Has motherhood made us incapable of putting literary tragedy in its proper perspective? Or are we just…tired? Are we victims of the mentality that says we must do it all or die trying? (Books on this topic will almost always get the nod.)