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In Defense of Reading in Public
What may seem anti-social is steeped in connection.
He told me I was part of the problem. I don’t think we ever determined what “the problem” was. All I knew was that I, apparently, was furthering it. And it’s not good.
My transgression? Reading a book in bar.
To be clear, I’m not hanging out in a dive bar with the Yankee game in the background while bro-country plays on the jukebox and trying to really dive in to the magical realism of Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
That’s absurd. It is not an environment condusive to reading. The wine bar, however. That’s the place to read.
I had mentioned during the conversation with my friend that I didn’t do it all that often but on occasion. His take on it was that places like bars and cafes are intended for social interaction and, by sticking my nose in a book, I was shutting myself out from the world. I was telling everyone to f*ck off. Whatever was in my book was more interesting than them.
Well, certainly. Kind of. But no. Not really. I have many reasons for doing it.
