Or last night, the dude on the bus who was talking to his friend, a woman whose work with high-brow lit is so intense that she just wants to read crap after hours.

Him: You know who you should read?

Her: Who?

Him: Haruki Murakami. He’s a Japanese writer.

Her: [She starts trying to explain she knows who this is]

Him: He writes really cool short stories.

Her: [Continues trying to explain].

Him: Surreal and literary!

Her: I’ve never read him, but I try to read crap when I’m not working.

Him: Right.

Her: I’ve just read [book about people on a beach in SC, other books] and I’m planning on reading [she has a long reading list of crap books to read].

Him: You know who you should read?

Her: Uh, who?

Him: Richard Russo!

Her: I, um, I only really read female authors.

Him [seeming set back, makes a face]

Her: I mean I might eventually read this Russo, but I just wouldn’t know who he is because I’ve been reading so many female authors.

Him: [Changes subject]

Resident of Frogpondia.

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