Oh heck, why not confess? I love catching someone reading one of my books. On a plane, or in a subway train, or wherever. I sit there and practically twitch with the pleasure of it. (And no, I don’t go up to them and ask what they think. They might tell me. I’m such a chicken about such things.)
But here’s an interesting twist on the theme. I was reading some columns by Toni Schlesinger, in the Village Voice, and without warning ran across this:
“Lately, I look around and think, Who would I like to be stuck with in a [subway] car if something happened? The other day, there was the man with the tattoos reading an Ann Rice book and the chubby woman reading So You Want to Be a Wizard�they didn’t know each other, but maybe they should. I didn’t want to know either one.”
Oooooooo.
Well, I’m not exactly mortally wounded by this. But if I ever meet this lady at a cocktail party or whatever, I really must remember to take her aside and ask “Why? Why wouldn’t you have wanted to know that person?”
Of course, writing to deadline / writing for a newspaper being what it is, odds would be strong that she wouldn’t even remember the article…or the mood of the moment, or what precipitated it.
Oh well…
