The Women’s Reading Group, now in existence for 30 years, reads eight books by women authors annually. Frances Madeson’s debut novel, Cooperative Village, is the group’s choice for September 2007.

Almost 20 years ago, on a first Tuesday evening of a wintry month, I took a cushioned seat in the Ware Room—a seat that would ultimately transport me to unimagined destinations. It was the kind of refined room I had always longed to sit in—ample, tastefully decorated, resonant with experience, a gracious place of possibility and import, conducive to the sweetest moments of human exchange.

Eager to attend the Women’s Reading Group, I had arrived early and sat quietly as the dozen or so members bustled in. Ronna Abbot came through the door and gave me a dazzling smile. She filled the oversized kettle in the kitchen annex, briskly announcing, “Whoever’s first puts the water on for tea.” Inez Miller came in next and turned on the lamps on the mantle and occasional tables, which in both reality and memory emitted a golden glow.

When Mary Ella Holst and Angie Utt arrived carrying doggie bags from their ritual pre-WRG [Women’s Reading Group] supper—co-equal galvanizing forces in the “leaderless” group—round the circle we went, introducing ourselves by name, making our first indelible impressions. My heart pounded when I said my own name. Wanting to fit in, I made an effort to project confidence: already I was reaching for an authority that it seemed the others possessed, that I too wanted.

I was thrilled to be in the presence of intelligent, spirited women who were so comfortable in their own skins, in each other’s company, who valued and honored each other’s opinions and modes of expression, and who loved books. In fact, some were themselves Women of Letters whose slim volumes still sit on my shelves. Other than college professors, Marietta Moskin may have been the first published author in my acquaintance. When Mary-Ella’s volume of poetry, Beyond Dreams of Rescue, was published by Wind Rose Press, I stood in line at the signing in Fellowship Hall hugging five copies to my heart. It was the first book signing I had ever attended. Her inscription said “Readers unite!” but somehow I read it as: “Readers write!”

Pat Taylor was an early reader of my plays, and provided thoughtful encouragement, critique and occasionally, a beautifully composed dinner. Together we saw “Blown Sideways Through Life” and I’m not sure I’ve ever laughed harder with another human being in public. When I eventually wrote a play about the Women’s Reading Group, Leonora Fishbach hosted its first (and only) reading at her magical, cloud-filled ærie. I have wonderful memories of our friend Liz Hauser delivering her part with gusto just weeks before her diagnosis was confirmed. Less than a year, later she would be gone. But that afternoon, she was perched on a sofa, surrounded by friends, adding her dulcet voice, with its particular Southern lilt, to the harmonic sounds of the Women’s Reading Group reading out loud.