More Family Than a Club : Life Style: The Book Club has lasted 50 years and is still going strong--so are the friendships that were formed there.

The women have met twice a month for 50 years.

Their ostensible purpose has been to talk about nonfiction. They have reported on and had spirited conversations about more than a thousand books. But the Book Club, as the dozen women call their durable association, is more than a discussion group. It is a certainty in lives that inevitably change. It is as real a structure as a temple or a marriage, a mechanism that allows its members to learn together, to be together, whatever else is happening in their lives.

“There’s nothing more important than coming to Book Club,” Ruth Caplan said at a recent meeting.

“Ruth,” another member explained, “has been secretary since Adam and Eve.”

Since 1939, actually. The founders were members of Hadassah, a Jewish charitable organization, and many of them, with their husbands, met regularly to play cards as well as do good works.

“Was it ’38 or ‘39?” one member asked, trying to nail down the exact moment Book Club was born. “It was 1939,” another recalled. “We were building our house then.”

The unspeakable was happening in Europe, and the women raised money that saved some lives. Their own lives were comfortable and full, busy with raising children, supporting successful husbands and doing volunteer work. “We were lovely couples,” recalled Florence Skoss, now widowed, as are most of the women. “We were all at the baby stage. Now we’re at the arthritis stage.”

The women are still busy, their lives still full. They travel. They do volunteer work at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, with the city’s cultural organizations and elsewhere. They have grandchildren, some of whom are now having children of their own. They study music, art, Judaism or pursue other passions. A few years ago, Edith Greenberg worked at a home for the aged in Israel. Her responsibilities included trimming trees two days a week in a forest.

And twice a month they gather for Book Club.

From its inception, it “was our fun time,” a member said. Fun, but a serious social obligation as well. “The only excuse for not coming was a wedding or a funeral,” Skoss said.

During the early years, Book Club included tea. Now “the girls,” as they often refer to themselves, begin with lunch. They usually meet at a member’s home, although most no longer live in the big houses in Bel-Air, Beverly Hills and Westwood they maintained before the children dispersed.

Unlike some book clubs, this one does not require all its members to read a particular book in advance. Reviewers report on books of their choosing. “We always learn something at Book Club,” Ruth Resnik said. Interruptions are de rigueur.

Of the scores of books that have been reviewed, the one everyone remembers with special fondness was a study of black holes, reviewed some years ago by the late Estelle Grossman. Although the members are well-read and widely traveled, none knew much about black holes until Grossman explained the cosmic phenomenon. “It was like lighting up a new part of the world for us,” recalled Resnik.

The Book Club members have established a scholarship at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem in memory of Grossman and two other members who have died.

“All these 50 years there has never been an argument,” a member said, quickly adding, “There’s been a difference of opinion.” As Caplan observed, “What’s so important is to share what we love with one another.”

It is Judy Klingstein’s turn to review. The tiny redhead has been ill lately and has made the best of it by reading biographies. She reports on Arthur Miller’s autobiography, “Timebends.” The other members sit around her as rapt as schoolgirls for more than two hours as she summarizes Miller’s book. Some slip out of their shoes. One or two knit while listening. Chocolates are quietly passed around.

Klingstein, who is a polished public speaker and former teacher, shares a vast frame of reference with the other members of the group. She doesn’t have to explain her allusions to Ibsen, the playwright, or the photographer Cartier-Bresson. Her report includes personal insights and recollections, including how exciting New York City was during the brilliant theatrical season of 1935, when she and Hilda Silton were fresh out of UCLA, taking graduate courses at Columbia.

Miller was born in 1915, two years after Klingstein, and at the end of her report, she reads his observations about being a grandfather. She doesn’t apologize for getting misty-eyed. “I can’t help it, I’m emotional,” she said.

Book Club has clearly been a source of solace for its members. “We’ve all had one kind of trouble or another, but we all sustain each other,” Klingstein said. “Everybody’s been through everybody’s happiness and everybody’s heartache,” Skoss said. But unlike groups whose whole purpose is support, Book Club always involves the consideration of ideas. It is an affair of the mind as well as the heart.

“We don’t talk about the petty things, the nothings,” Skoss said. Greenberg agreed. “There’s practically no gossip in this group,” she said. “It’s wonderful.”