On the way home last night, the guy next to me on the train was reading Charles Stross's Singularity Sky
.And, on the train in this morning, the guy next to me -- a different guy -- was reading Blood Meridian
by Cormac McCarthy.Further updates may follow, unless I get punched for nosiness at some point.
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I've asked people what their books are, when I can't see enough to tell. I do explain that I read a lot and like to know what people read, and I do it politely.
We had a fire alarm at work today and I saw some guy outside reading L. Sprague deCamp's THE ANCIENT ENGINEERS.
On the plane back from Chicago last week, the guy next to me was reading The Road. I asked whether he liked it. "Oh yeah," he said, "it's pretty good."
"It's science fiction, right?"
"Yes, it is science fiction," he said firmly and without scorn... and then he added, "But it's good, it doesn't have aliens and spaceships and that kind of stuff. It's really just about a man's relationship with his son."
So close, and yet so far...
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