Classic Embarassment…
The Dave March 2nd, 2009
Lately, I’ve been in an awkward position, and not in any sexual way… not this time. No, I find myself feeling shame, actual shame, based on what I’m reading. Personally, I think it’s uncalled for, not to mention untoward. However, toward or not, I still catch myself shifting my book into skewed reading positions that keep the cover hidden to the general public. On the subway, it’s the cross-legged, cover cover-up. In the staff room, it’s the face-down on the table hunched over reading style. These are the awkward positions of being in the awkward position of feeling ashamed of your book.
And what is this troublesome tome, you ask (or more likely wouldn’t ask)? Is it the dregs of the literary barrel, the likes of tawdry romances, books with “shopaholic” in the title, or Dan Brown novels? Not hardly. I have not fallen so far in our time apart, my friends. As it happens, I’m reading Crime and Punishment, a classic of Russian Literature. So why should I be embarrassed, you again might ask? It’s Doestoy-friggin’-evsky for God’s sake. Well, that’s just it. I’m sick of the eye-rolling, the sarcasm, and the implied, “Ooooh, Doestoyevsky, eh?”
It appears that there are only a few known responses to great works of literature these days. It is acceptable if the reader appears to be a student, or scholarly in general, but otherwise people seem to think the reader is showing off or else overreaching himself. You really do get a sense of, “Who does this guy think he is reading a book like that. Must be trying to show off his intelligence to the world (read: subway car).” Is it actually plausible that someone would choose to read a book purely to demonstrate his or her academic acumen or pretense thereof? I’m not sure, it seems like quite an effort without much pay off.
When I first caught a few looks on the subway, a few hmphs, I wondered, “Do I do this?” Do I judge people by what they’re reading? Damn right I do. But it’s usually the other end of the literary spectrum And I really shouldn’t, because there are times when I read airport pulp (sometimes not even at airports) and I certainly wouldn’t want to be judged by it. If someone caught me reading, oh let’s say, John Grisham, I’d certainly feel an even deeper sense of shame than I do now. I’d be scrambling through my bag in a flash saying, “Wait, wait! I’m actually reading Doestoyevsky!” I guess it’s the same impulse that leads me to scratch at those damn “Oprah Book Club” stickers. So, am I destined to be embarrassed by both really bad and really good books? Will I be forced to find books that straddle the divide? Nah… In the end, it really doesn’t bother me that much, it’s more of just an observation. I feel much better now. Good, I’m glad we talked.
Anyway, that’s enough tangential Tolstoy. For now, it’s back to my book. I’ve made it through the Crime and I have a feeling there’s some punishment on it’s way.
