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November 3, 2006
You Are What You Read (?)
One of my favorite people watching games on the subway is to survey what others are reading. There are the best sellers, the New Yorkers and Economists, the religious self-help books, the students reading Middle English tomes and those thoroughly ensconced in urban fiction (Ridin’ Dirty on I-95 is my personal favorite of the genre thus far). There are the people without books who are reading yours over your shoulder and, inevitably, those who have no urge to read your paperback but are curiously studying its title and then looking at you, as if they are trying to ascribe some relationship between the reader and their wares.
For the past few weeks, our house has been littered with such ominous titles such as Hives of Sickness, Captain of Death and the Gospel of Germs. It is all quite uplifting—and enough to make my loving husband want to buy a recliner and take a rest cure on someone else's balcony. This morning, I sat on the subway fully absorbed by my latest acquisition, Living in the Shadow of Death (with "death" in an ominous white bold face). A woman entered train at Wall Street, rather frenzied and fulfilling all of the traits of what I like to call The Fully Disgruntled at Everything Subway Rider. These are the people who are immediately miffed when a fellow rider accidentally brushes against their shoulder, takes a seat that they had been pining for or generally moves in a way that somehow manages to offend every fiber of their being. Huffing, she took the empty seat next to me, nudging me over with a sigh as if my human existence was causing her pain, and proceeded to glance in every direction, most likely to find yet another element of irritation that she could focus her energy.
Having actually completed my reading for the trip, I watched her out of the corner of my eye and quickly discovered that she was glaring at the cover of my book. I opened it and went back over some passages so that perhaps her stare would lessen. Just then, I swallowed wrong, causing a short fit of coughs that I could not suppress. The woman next to me stiffened and nudged slightly away from me. Then, in one sharp movement, yanked her purse to her shoulder and moved to the other side of the car.
I thought that this was very interesting. It would be neat to launch an experiment in subway reading—a cadre of people armed with various kinds of books whose goal is to evaluate their fellow riders' reactions to the titles. In the meantime, I really hope that woman sits next to me again some time soon. I am considering keeping a copy of Hypochondria Can Kill in my backpack, just for kicks.
Posted by callalillie at November 3, 2006 7:17 AM | City Life
, WTF?
Let me just observe that reading The Hot Zone on the subway and coughing as you do so will get you a nice clear space on the train. (Of course, reading it, and hearing other people cough around you, and realizing just how many people are sick on the train, does absolutely nothing to maintain a calm state of mind.)
Posted by: Velma at November 3, 2006 10:30 AM
I looove this game! I wonder what riders thought of me this morning carrying a 500-page book on the theory of cultural capital...
Posted by: Lesterhead at November 3, 2006 12:10 PM
I've considered wrapping some of my books like you used to have to in grade school, just to make it a mystery to people...
Posted by: corie at November 3, 2006 12:35 PM
I read House of Leaves while commuting on the bus in LA (I know! unheard of!) - this book is sometimes printed upside down, sometimes backwards, sometimes one word per page. I got the MOST unsual looks while reading this one!!
Posted by: carrster at November 3, 2006 4:01 PM
