The question in question

"How many books do you read in a week?"

Every now and then, someone at my work will ask me this. I know why they do, it's understandable. More than in any other facet of my life, these coworkers see me go through book after book after book. Almost every break and lunch, I'm in the cafeteria, nose in something, while eating my breakfast or lunch. No one else in my life sees me with enough different titles in hand to realize I go through a good amount. Probably the last person to see it was my last long-term girlfriend, someone who saw me often enough to notice when there was a new title in hand.

But the question is bogus, and one that I always hate answering. I hate it, becuase I'm at a loss at how to answer it. "Well, Dave, I read 1.7 books a week. Except in the summer when my production goes up to 2.3. Thanks for asking." It'd be like me going around to people and asking how many miles they drive in a week.

The question is really only valid if everything you read is the exact same length with the same writing style. I go through a 700 page science fiction epic at a different rate than a 250 page book of essays on pop culture. (My last finished book and current read.) An author's style and vocabulary make a difference. The complexity of the story makes a difference. Fiction vs. non-fiction makes a difference. Hell, the type face makes a difference.

But you have to give some kind of answer. Not to would be rude. I usually go with the, "I don't know. 1 or 2, I guess." As much as the question does bother me I don't want to be rude, because the people asking are just making small talk and, for the most part, are nice enough folk.

Of course, the question is often followed by some sort of question about what I'm reading, which sometimes opens a whole new bag of worms. It's probably no surprise that I talked to a lot of people here about it when I had the new Harry Potter on my tray in the cafeteria line. When my dad bought those few popular Dan Brown novels and I read them, they got plenty of questions as well. (For a good few months last year, just having a Dan Brown novel was the best way to meet new people. For some reason, despite that he was a subpar thriller writer, The Davinci Code swept boldly into the public consciousness, dragging along some of his other novels, Angels and Demons and Digital Fortress, on its coattails.) One of the cooks is a Stephen King fan, so if I'm reading some King, we'll talk it out. But when I'm reading Chuck Klosterman's "Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs," how do I explain the premise of that to the people I work with. You have to understand that at 31 years old, I'm still on the younger end of the spectrum of the employees here. I'd say within the youngest 5, at least. And even once you get past the book's eye-catching title, will anyone that asks me about it at the 'B appreciate a bunch of analysis on a pop-culture that they likely don't feel an affinity for? Probably not.
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More and more often I find myself selecting what I'm going to read at work carefully. I usually tend to something with an easily salebale premise, in case anyone asks. "A Marine protects the president when the air base they're at is taken over by terrorists."

The Klosterman is an exception, simply because I'm enjoying too much and don't want to read anything else until I'm done. But if I try to explain to someone I work with the essay about how people are becoming more and more like Real World archtype characters, I'm fairly certain I'm going to get that look like I just farted on an elevator and they're wondering if they should say something.
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What it comes down to, it seems, it not what you're reading, but the perception of others of what you're reading.

At work, a Harry Potter or Dan Brown feels like it'd be more acceptable to those around me. It provokes a sense of camraderie. A: :Hey, I read that! We have something in common," good feeling vibe. Whereas if I have to explain that I'm currently in the chapter of "The Dirt" where Ozzy Osbourne drinks his own pee, I'm wondering what people are thinking of me at that point and will it affect my ability to work with these people. Much like when I'm listening to Twisted Sister in my cubicle and someone comes in to ask me a question.

When did reading get so complicated? Anyway, back to my book. The next essay's entitled "Porn". I have high hopes for it.