PSA

This scenario occurs often. I'm sitting somewhere reading a book. There's another human nearby. We're on an airplane or at the breakfast table or in an employee lounge. The other human is not reading; he or she is not a human who has embraced this most luxurious pastime, this comfortable and instantaneous envelopment in a different time, place, and perspective. This human has finished fiddling with his smartphone, flicked the lint from her sweater, shifted from one position to another too many times. I still read. This human envies my quiet engagement.

"So...whatcha reading?"

I used to humor this question more good-naturedly because I think of myself as a "nice girl", but after offering too many (I think) succinct blurbs as the questioner's eyes glaze over ("It's your typical empire-building fantasy but with this, like, steampunk Asian slant." "It's a period piece with lesbian lovers and murder, but so subtly done!" "Well, imagine Watership Down, with deer instead of rabbits, and a healthy dose of mysticism."), I've finally settled on a response that feels cold and bitchy but successfully quells this untoward attempt at small talk: "Oh, just some book."

I only direct this shutdown at people who don't care. If you don't care what I'm reading, DON'T ASK. Sometimes I make snap judgments that aren't fair, but if you look and talk like some bro who has only read Kerouac/Hunter S. Thompson/Edward Abbey and wants to draw every literary conversation back to the fact that The Monkey Wrench Gang changed his life and convinced him to move from New Jersey to the west and drive his midsize pick-up the two blocks to work every day and drink fair trade coffee out of disposable cups while posting videos on social media about the scourge of hydroelectric power...

Well, I don't want to tell you what book I'm reading.

My mom will never receive the response, "Just some book". Ever since I started reading more than just boatloads of fantasy, she and I have enjoyed a really great repartee of book comparison, suggestion, and denigration. I have friends like that too. And if you're a person on a plane or in a restaurant who, instead of using "Whatcha reading" as a way to fill the emptiness of your own experience, sincerely wants to know what I'm reading, maybe to compare notes or flash the title in your own hands as a satisfying corollary, or to reach out to another human in this world that thinks the written word is the most wonderful thing ever invented, feel free to ask "Whatcha reading?"...if I don't beat you to it.

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i believe this is what those in the know call a "photo dump". i take very few cell pics, but some always find their way onto the phone.

looking for the captain? well, he's in a train depot in montana, if you can believe it.

still life with cheap meal. house-sitting, leftover wine, excellent omelette.

the shake weight does in fact exist. it is located in the impulse buy section of your local walmart, right next to the mountain dew and cigarettes!

sometimes i babysit this kid. he is awesome.

the children are back in school and while i don't envy them the classes, or even the races, i miss the camaraderie. therefore they must forgive me if i sometimes encroach on their company, because i still secretly want to be (somewhat) involved.

on an unrelated note (because books are rarely related to college), i am part of the way through a really good book right now. it's called the story of edgar sawtelle. i wouldn't even mention it, except that i have suffered through a string of inane, cliche-ridden, poorly written books recently. after finishing three or four books that were disorganized, weirdly humorless, or way too esoteric, i checked out simply divine, which was so full of awful puns i finished the second chapter and promptly returned the rag to the library. summer may be a time for crap books, but i want good crap books, thanks. anyway, hallelujah the drought has passed, but here's my problem: when i encounter a compelling, well-written novel, i devour it. mothers around the world advise their children to chew before swallowing, savor the flavors, make sure that beef doesn't get lodged in your throat honey. mothers would despair of me. i am so not a savorer, not of food nor of books. i eat too fast, and i read too fast, skimming big clumps of glittering prose until suddenly i'm at the end and i've missed half the point and i'm kind of out of breath.

the point is, we're driving to new hampshire tomorrow. and then onward to quebec! and i've packed a bag full of really good books and by gosh, i will savor them, because it is a very long drive.