In honor of various people I’ve been around recently who read at a rate I find emasculating, I give you this story:
I was reading a book on my subway commute. I don’t remember which, but I’d just gotten to the point where I’d have stopped using the dust jacket flap for a bookmark if it’d been from the library. This guy was sitting next to me looking over my shoulder. I turned the page and he said, “You read pretty fast, huh?”
“I started this two weeks ago,” I said.
And he faced front. It was like I’d confessed a moral failing.
Anyway, despite my shameful reading speed, I’m ready to move on to Joshua Ferris’ Then We Came to the End, which beat out the other Joshua’s Take It, Samuel R. Delaney’s Dhalgren, and Natsume Sōseki’s I Am a Cat with two votes to their one apiece. This coincides with my return to semi-gainful employment, so the workplace shenanigans therein should have extra leverage to make me laugh and cry.