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To keep the focus where it belongs, members of the Wheat Sheaf Literary Society waste no time fretting over who will host the next meeting, what to wear or the type of food and drink to serve.

These are men, after all; serious men who must surely have more important things on their minds than such trifling details. Or maybe, being men, they just couldn't be bothered.

Whatever it is, their stripped-down strategy has served them well through the half-dozen years they have been convening to talk fiction (the written-down kind) at the Wheat Sheaf Tavern, Toronto's oldest pub. The Sheaf, which turns 160 this year, was off-limits to women until 1969 but continues to lure a mostly male clientele with the glow of its big-screen TVs, the clack of billiard balls and an ever-bubbling deep fryer.

The book club's unpretentious approach certainly worked this week, when it lured Barry Callaghan, stalwart author, poet and the quiet conscience of Canadian literature, to its semi-regular meeting. From the opening clink of sweating glasses, more than two hours of free-wheeling chat ensued, duly greased by pints of draught, doubles of Jack Daniel's for Callaghan and plates of fried snacks to share.

Appropriately, Callaghan's new novel, Beside Still Waters , dominated the discussion early on. Just as appropriately, by the end of the night, the 71-year-old author had regaled his four new pals with unrelated anecdotes, invited them to his book launch and bummed a ride across town to grab a pizza to take home to his waiting wife.

“I have to tell you the truth,” the husky Callaghan said deep into the proceedings, leaning forward on one elbow. “You're the only book club I've agreed to ever meet.”

Asked why he accepted this time, he said “I was told that it was ‘the boys,' and I thought that would be interesting with this novel,” a tale of a man's long search for the woman he loves. “And then meeting in a tavern, [I thought] that'll be interesting.”

At this, club member Chris Caswell rose from his chair to declare, “You know what's really interesting? We go to the washroom by ourselves,” and headed for the men's room, trailing guffaws from the table.

Such is the typical vibe among this book club's members, a group of married, middle-aged men who take their fiction, but not themselves, very seriously. This much is clear from their website, www.seedickread.com , where visitors can check out a multitude of reviews and an About Us section, replete with self-deprecation, under a photo of a full pint glass beside a stack of books.

“The Wheat Sheaf Literary Society is a book club for men who can, and want to, read,” it begins. “. . . It is our belief that a focus on books for guys is the perfect antidote to a real world that has succumbed to an onslaught of Women's Literature, Chick Lit, Ladies Book Clubs, Feminist Reading Circles and the irritating trend of book publishers and retailers catering almost exclusively to women.”

Eric Gall, a writer who, like most of the members, works in advertising, said the group also serves as a rebuttal to men who confine their reading to non-fiction on the grounds that facts are more “important.”

“We read fiction and we're proud of it at our book club,” Gall said. “And that's something we all feel strongly about.”

Men love a gripping narrative, even if they don't like discussing their own inner lives, he said. In that sense, characters in a novel can serve as handy surrogate vessels for the club members' own feelings. Meanwhile, the Sheaf's sports-bar atmosphere provides neutral and casual turf upon which no one will be judged on the temperature of the chardonnay or the freshness of the fruit tray.

“It's almost like our natural habitat at the bar, and what's interesting is, in this milieu, we're talking about books instead of just talking about sports or getting laid or whatever,” Gall said. “We're talking about guys in books doing it, and it's kind of fun.”

Hence their fondness for Callaghan's latest offering, which not only serves up a strong male character in Adam Waters, but a complicated and libidinous young woman in Waters's beloved, Gabrielle.

“From a guy's point of view she's the perfect woman,” Gall enthused to the author, who smiled behind his dark spectacles and replied, to great laughter, “I'll give you her address, but unfortunately, she's now 55.”

Barry Callaghan's new novel, Beside Still Waters, will be in stores next Saturday. The members of the Wheat Sheaf Literary Society were able to read advance copies of the book courtesy of the publisher, McArthur and Co.