Proust And The Piccadilly Line

Yesterday I read a book on the tube. A relatively innocuous activity perhaps, but I was reading Proust, and whats worse it was a big book, and flashed its "I am a Penguin Classic!" black spine ostentatiously.

As I sat there, I was initially quite happy, until I noticed that I was attracting some strange looks. Nothing particularly new in that, but then I realised they were looking at me and at my book. What were they thinking?

The practically minded were probably thinking that it was a very large book, and that it was a good thing I had a bag in which to carry it. Others perhaps were thinking that the Metro had certainly increased in size and that it was amazing what you could get for free these days. They didn't worry me. What worried me was the knowing looks, the "he wants everyone to know he can read a big book" looks.

To some of them I am sure that my reading a book that size, that in your face weighty and serious in public was a sure sign of pretension, and i am sure to some of those who are reading this too no doubt. Why should this be? When did reading like this become for some something almost shameful. I had no agenda, I had no interest in what these people who I was never going to see again thought about me as a result of my reading a big book. Leave me alone I thought, if I wish to read then so be it.