Bus Books - The CV of the Soul

In the book High Fidelity, record-store owner Rob concludes that what's on one's iPod or on the nightstand provides more information about a person than pretty much anything else:

A while back, when Dick and Barry and I agreed that what really matters is what you like, not what you are like, Barry proposed the idea of a questionnaire for prospective partners, a two- or three-page multiple-choice document that covered all the music/film/TV/book bases. It was intended a) to dispense with awkward conversation, and b) to prevent a chap from leaping into bed with someone who might, at a later date, turn out to have every Julio Iglesias record ever made. It amused us at the time, although Barry, being Barry, went one stage further: he compiled the questionnaire and presented it to some poor woman he was interested in, and she hit him with it. But there was an important and essential truth contained in the idea, and the truth was that these things matter, and it's no good pretending that any relationship has a future if your record collections disagree violently, or if your favorite films wouldn'’t even speak to each other if they met at a party.

I was thinking about this idea yesterday on the bus. One of my favourite things to do on the bus (and there aren't many from which to choose) is to check out what my co-riders are reading. And, rarely do I see another's book without some sort of judgment forming in my mind. But it's not a judgment about the book.

It's a judgment about that person.

If I see Life of Pi, I think, wow, great taste. If I see a shiny Oprah's Book Club sticker, I think, wow, borrowed taste. If I see John Grisham I think, well, at least he's reading.

(I'm not against Grisham et al. per se. I've personally got a fair number of books tagged "bathroom reading" in my own collection. Heck, December was the month o' Robert Ludlum around here. But just as my kids moved beyond mushed-up carrots to curry, so, too, can readers move beyond literary pablum.)

I suppose I'm opening myself up to accusations of snobbery and elitism here. (Or perhaps snickers from those who consider my tastes more plebian than theirs and who thus render judgment upon me accordingly.) To be clear, I'm not actually saying that I can't/won't be friends with people who have different literary tastes than I. In fact, I have lots of friends whom I would classify as "non-readers."

What I am trying to say is that the books one reads (just like the movies one watches, the food one eats, the music one chooses etc.) are rarely random choices. They act as a sort of shorthand for what a person thinks is important and how s/he views the world. So when I see a stranger on the bus reading something that I've enjoyed in the past, I feel a distinct sense of kinship.

How fortuitous, then, that these thoughts were running through my head just as I discovered a fabulous new tool for my blog (see sidebar). I've spent a couple of hours entering the books on my shelves (minus the ones that I've lent out to people - you know who you are, and I'm in no hurry, but don't forget to bring them back eventually) simply to make your lives easier. Instead of having to wade through pages of text, you can take a quick glance over to the side and decide whether you like me or not!