# Read the first page of The Book Club for Troublesome Women by Marie Bostwick Read the opening of The Book Club for Troublesome Women by Marie Bostwick free, no signup. Four suburban women form a book club that challenges their prescribed lives. - Page: https://uncovered.ink/read/the-book-club-for-troublesome-women-marie-bostwick - Genre: Historical fiction - Year: 2025 - ISBN: 9781400344758 - Read it blind (cover and title hidden): https://uncovered.ink/?b=9781400344758&s=read-page - Buy: https://bookshop.org/a/125786/9781400344758 - Borrow: https://search.worldcat.org/search?q=9781400344758 ## The opening @@CHAP@@ Members of the Club March 1963 On a Wednesday morning in March 1963, twenty-five miles and yet a world away from the nation’s capital and the rumblings of change that were beginning to be felt there, in a northern Virginia suburb called Concordia, so new that the roots of the association-approved saplings were still struggling to take hold, and so meticulously planned that when the first wave of residents moved in the year before, the shops, library, and church opened on the very same day, as if God smote the ground and a fully formed suburb had erupted from the crack, Margaret Ryan stood in a sunny kitchen with appliances and matching Formica countertops of egg-yolk yellow, trying to decide what to serve the three women who would be coming to the first meeting of her new book club. Beth Ryan, eleven years old and the eldest of Margaret’s three children, peered over her mother’s shoulder, shaking her head at the small mountain of recipes Margaret had torn from her extensive collection of women’s magazines. “Why so many? Why not bake oatmeal cookies and be done with it like any normal mother?” Beth snatched a recipe clipping from the stack. “Anchovy and cream cheese canapés? If that’s dinner, I’m eating at Melanie’s.” Every family has its smart-ass. Beth was theirs. With her strawberry-blond hair and enviably long lashes, Beth was the image of her father. But her cheek was pure Margaret, and a payback, Margaret was sure, for the sins of her youth. When her own mother was still alive, she had cursed Margaret countless times, saying, “When you grow up, I hope you have a daughter that’s as fresh as you are. Then you’ll know.” Now she did know, and it wasn’t so bad. Margaret liked that her daughter knew her own mind and wasn’t afraid to speak it. It was an underappreciated quality in women, one that often faded with age. At age seventeen, Margaret had sworn that she would grow up to be nothing like her mother. After a promising start, the fruit of her early efforts had shriveled. Now, at age thirty-three, Margaret sometimes wondered if every woman was destined to become her mother eventually. Recently, however, things had started to shift. And not just for Margaret. As with any seismic occurrence, the impact would be felt more keenly by some than others, and responses to it would vary widely. Some would embrace the change. Some would decry it. Some would avert their eyes and pretend nothing had happened. It didn’t come all at once, of course. Meaningful change rarely does. There would be more rumblings, more waves, more altercations in decades to come. But in the fullness of time, no one could deny that landscapes and lives had been irrevocably transformed. Nevertheless, Margaret didn’t fully appreciate that yet. Neither did she understand that the impulses she’d given in to over the last three months and the secrets she kept—including the presence of the rented seafoam-green typewriter she’d hidden in the far reaches of the linen closet—would alter her family, her future, and her sense of self. Today she was just excited about the book club, thrilled to be the point of connection for the other three women who had agreed to take part, some more reluctantly than others, and determined to make their first meeting memorable. Without the assistance of an alarm, Margaret’s eyes had flown open promptly at five that morning. Walt hadn’t come home from the VFW until well after midnight, so there was little chance of disturbing him, but she slipped quietly from bed and tiptoed down the hall to the bathroom anyway. Why risk endangering her good spirits with some pointless confrontation? Half an hour later, she emerged with her chestnut hair curled and sprayed into a shoulder-length flip, wearing lipstick, heels, and a black watch tartan jumper over a cream-colored blouse, as polished and pulled together as any magazine model. Coming downstairs for breakfast, the kids had hovered on the kitchen threshold, confused to see her looking so smart so early in the day. ## Books with a similar feel - [The Spectacular by Fiona Davis](https://uncovered.ink/read/the-spectacular-fiona-davis.md) - [All the Ways We Said Goodbye by Beatriz Williams](https://uncovered.ink/read/all-the-ways-we-said-goodbye-beatriz-williams.md) - [Daughters of Rome by Kate Quinn](https://uncovered.ink/read/daughters-of-rome-kate-quinn.md) - [Malibu Rising by Taylor Jenkins Reid](https://uncovered.ink/read/malibu-rising-taylor-jenkins-reid.md) - [The Orphan's Tale by Pam Jenoff](https://uncovered.ink/read/the-orphans-tale-pam-jenoff.md) - [The Calamity Club by Kathryn Stockett](https://uncovered.ink/read/the-calamity-club-kathryn-stockett.md) --- Source: Uncovered (https://uncovered.ink). A short sample shown for reading and discovery. Rights holders can request removal at https://uncovered.ink/takedown.