I'm finally reading a book I'm not ashamed to be seen with in public. It's not a gothic bodice-ripper or a sappy teen romance or a kids' baseball story.
Not that I'd read anything like that, of course, being a high-falutin' English major and all. Unfortunately, my current read isn't something I'd want my old professors to find me so wrapped up in, either. It's just another mystery from the best-seller list, nothing special. But I wouldn't be afraid to take it to the car dealer or the doctor's office waiting room.
If I didn't read so slowly, I'd get through the junk books so fast they wouldn't even register on the radar. When someone asks me what I'm reading, I wouldn't have to say, "Well, I finished the new Susan Sontag," especially since anyone who knows who she is would probably also know that she hasn't published a novel since 2000.
In the last two weeks I've finished three books. That's lightning fast for me, so you can imagine the quality and content (if you really want to). Anything I can get through that quickly has to have not many pages and lots of sex. Probably. I mean, I'd never actually admit to reading those kinds of books. I'm just using that as a generic example.
Anyway, I'm now reading something other people have heard of. It's a book people don't click their tongue about when they hear the title. It doesn't have a purple dust jacket that I have to hide even from myself. If I did have a Book List on my site (which I don't), this is probably the first one I've read in six months that would actually show up on the page.