Writer: Kate Bromage
Directors: Kate Bromage and Stephanie Kendrick
Sparkling and lively, with surprising depth and persistence, Book Club is a witty ensemble piece that toys with the subtle mores of wine-steeped British middle-class distractions and ‘making your own fun’. Originally penned by writer Kate Bromage as a beneficial diversion during the early Covid era, it’s blossomed well beyond its therapeutic beginnings, enjoying sell-out runs at the Rye Arts Festival and Wandsworth Fringe.
The play’s principal delights stem from keenly observed characterisation, prompted, no doubt, by sustained book club attendance. Central protagonist Linda is the uptight founder of the Club, determined to assert dominance over proceedings. She distributes her own laminated agendas and discussion points among the assembled ‘guests’, who feel obliged to attend having been subjected to various forms of social coercion.
Linda orders the attendees about and belittles them, as compensation for the petty drawbacks in her privileged and hollow life, whilst describing the Club as a “relaxed and laid-back forum”, in rebuke to one member who feels it necessary to raise her hand before making a point.
Joanna Dodd, smartly suited and buttoned up, plays Linda with the icy hauteur of snobbish chef Fanny Cradock, so it’s apt that she has a culinary sidekick in subdued, put-upon husband Bob. He’s clearly thoughtful and keen to join in, but reduced to nibble- and cake-provisioning: “Please ignore Bob, he isn’t here.”
Colin Sheehan is brilliantly low-key as Bob, never tempted to over-egg his passive but pivotal role as a focus for the group’s slightly sozzled antics. He remains commendably static while ‘asleep’ in the Hallowe’en themed third act, thoroughly wrapped by Linda in a muzzling, ghostly sheet, as the Clubbers are exhorted to balance books on him.
All the participants let slip subliminal desires in the increasingly booze-fuelled sessions. Linda shamelessly schmoozes and flirts with dishy young teacher James, who, in turn, reveals that the BBC’s Pride and Prejudice Darcy wet t-shirt scene was a defining moment in his teens. Joe Waterfield is blithe, kind and encouraging as James, serving as the conciliatory glue that holds the group together when Linda’s simmering rage threatens to atomise it.
A game of ‘Never Have I Ever’ spirals into hurtful recrimination when sparky Scot Gemma uses it to accuse Linda of pilfering the choicest items brought to the charity shop where she occasionally volunteers. Frank and puckish, Ailsa Wright’s perfectly cast as the perpetual thorn in Linda’s side, constantly counterbalancing her overbearing nonsense with pomposity-pricking rebuff and packets of pickled onion Monster Munch. Spiky and subversive at the outset, Gemma’s harsh tone softens as she sees her fellow Clubbers crumble under the weight of adverse events, and Wright captures the shift from cynical to supportive convincingly.
Softest and most anxious of the quintet is Susan in her ‘Dog Mum’ sweatshirt and mumsy pastels, played by writer Kate Bromage, standing in for Susanne Joseph for these performances. It’s tricky stepping into the breach, but Bromage does her own material proud, conveying Susan’s social awkwardness and reliance on wine to speak her evidently well-versed but heavily suppressed mind fully.
There isn’t much in the way of actual book-appraising content – just enough to sustain the premise – but the few literary points made are illuminating, and there’s an amusingly intense discussion around War and Peace between Gemma, James and Susan, suddenly animated by the opportunity to show up Linda with their superior knowledge of her ‘favourite book’ pick after she’s harshly critiqued their own choices.
With its considerable competitive childcare content and alcohol-driven action, Book Club is already attracting comparisons with TV comedies Motherland and Amandaland, and these views ring true: all three productions are on a par in terms of incisive, rib-tickling social commentary.
While Book Club isn’t hugely ground-breaking or challenging, it’s still engaging, sharply observant and funny, with original ideas and laughter-inducing banter throughout its 60-minute span. There’s even a neatly resolved ending for the ‘all sewn up’ completists out there. With appeal across most age groups and wide swathes of society, it’s a sound choice for an entertaining afternoon or evening. Catch it now before it transforms into something filmic and famous.
Runs until 3 May 2026
