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The Guardian
30-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Is it OK to read Infinite Jest in public? Why the internet hates ‘performative reading'
I consider no activity more luxurious than posting up at a bar solo with a good book. The creasing of a paperback in one hand, the weight of a wine glass in the other, the feeling of being alone in a crowd of people all make for a lovely evening. Or at least, I thought so, until recently, when two twentysomethings approached me during this ritual. 'Are you reading alone?' one asked. 'I could neverrrr,' the other said, and then uttered the universal mean girl slight: 'I wish I had your confidence.' Reading in public – not cool. Or at least 'performative reading', as it's been dubbed on social media, is worthy of ridicule. Not long ago, during the peak years of corny millennial humor, we celebrated @HotDudesReading, an Instagram account-turned-book that showed attractive men toting books on trains and park benches. Now, god forbid anyone (hot dudes included) enjoy a moment of escapism during the capitalist grind, or else they might end up in someone's mocking post. To quote the caption of one popular meme depicting an anonymous train passenger reading a Brit lit classic: 'Poser art himbo on the subway barely 10 pages into his performative copy of Frankenstein.' It's called performative reading not just because someone might be pretending to read, but rather that they want everyone to know they read. The presumption is that they're performing for passersby, signaling they have the taste and attention span to pick up a physical book instead of putting in AirPods. And we're not talking about Colleen Hoover's latest or a romantasy title; the books that qualify are capital 'L' literature: Faulkner, Nabokov, Franzen. The heavier the better. Of course, it requires a deeply broken brain to be this bothered by a stranger's summer reading list. Chalk this obsession with performative reading up to a wariness of personal branding. We can't even indulge in an innocent hobby without it being considered some sort of aesthetic curation. Last month, Hailey Bieber poked fun at her vapid image in a Vogue TikTok, in which she pulled out The Portable Nietzsche ('I love this one, probably my fourth or fifth time reading it, so good') and Kant's Critique of Pure Reason ('been taking a lot of notes from this one'). The hosts of the Run-Through, Vogue's official podcast, later called the post 'satire'. Another win for the books-as-props community. Ten years ago, John Waters's famous quote about how if you go home with someone and they don't have books, 'don't fuck 'em' came printed on tote bags. Now, is the prevailing wisdom that anyone who dares read the newborn-sized Infinite Jest during their lunch break an absolute loser? I decided to find out in my own personal mini-odyssey. The performative reading canon spans many titles and genres, and I thought about using Robert Caro's The Power Broker, Moby Dick or The Bell Jar in this experiment. Ultimately, I chose Infinite Jest, because it clocks in at over just 1,000 pages, I've never met a person who had finished it, and at many times I've considered picking it up but reconsidered simply because I did not want to be the dude on the subway reading Infinite Jest. I found a $9 copy at my neighborhood bookstore in Brooklyn and braced myself for what I was sure would be abject humiliation courtesy of the gen Z cashier. Instead, she asked if I needed a bag. 'I think so – it's kind of heavy,' I said, propping it on my hip dramatically as if it were a small child. She nodded for the person behind me in line to step forward with the apathy of someone who's not being paid enough for this. On the train, I held the behemoth in front of my face, angling so the woman with groceries across from me could not help but notice that I was Better Than Her. As I peeked over the page, I tried to clock any annoyance. But, tragically, she had things to worry about other than my reading list. When I got to Washington Square Park, the unofficial campus center of New York University and general young person shenanigans hub, I awaited to be caught in the act, secretly filmed for a TikTok ridiculing my performance. Again, no one cared – except for a gen X man who sat on the park bench next to me, exactly the type of guy who might consider David Foster Wallace a modern-day saint. He politely asked how I was doing with the book. I told him I was 20 pages in and hadn't quite hit footnote hell yet. He said to keep going and suggested that I literally cut the book into thirds to make it more manageable. (Apparently this is common knowledge among Wallace support groups that have popped up through the years.) After I thanked him and went back to reading, a crazy thing happened: I enjoyed myself. One of life's simplest pleasures is falling into a story and tuning the world out. But to get there, you have to stop worrying about what someone's going to think of you – or whether you'll unwittingly end up in a bitchy TikTok. And as far as I know, I didn't. All the finger-wagging about performative reading begs the question: where are we supposed to read the classics? Can it only be done at home, like a secret bad habit? For people who take public transit, especially trains with spotty wifi, commuting can be the only time when we have an hour or so to totally focus on a book (and on not missing our stop). So the next time you see one of us reading at a bar, coffee shop or the park, please leave us alone. This is not for you; we're just enjoying the vibes. It's a scary time to be someone who cherishes the written word. The country is in the midst of a literary crisis. We're told by college professors that students can't read entire books anymore, that gen Z parents don't like reading to their kids, that smartphones ruined our ability to focus on anything longer than 30 seconds, that AI slop will take over publishing. Don't be a chump. Read everywhere, and read often. And maybe there's still some steeze that comes from flexing an 'important' book. When I posted on Instagram about reading Infinite Jest in public, a friend told me she once went to a 'nudist' spa in Portland where she encountered a guy reading the book in a jacuzzi. 'He had the biggest penis I've ever seen in my life,' she wrote. 'It wasn't a performance, it was promotion.'
The Guardian
30-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Is it OK to read Infinite Jest in public? Why the internet hates ‘performative reading'
I consider no activity more luxurious than posting up at a bar solo with a good book. The creasing of a paperback in one hand, the weight of a wine glass in the other, the feeling of being alone in a crowd of people all make for a lovely evening. Or at least, I thought so, until recently, when two twentysomethings approached me during this ritual. 'Are you reading alone?' one asked. 'I could neverrrr,' the other said, and then uttered the universal mean girl slight: 'I wish I had your confidence.' Reading in public – not cool. Or at least 'performative reading', as it's been dubbed on social media, is worthy of ridicule. Not long ago, during the peak years of corny millennial humor, we celebrated @HotDudesReading, an Instagram account-turned-book that showed attractive men toting books on trains and park benches. Now, god forbid anyone (hot dudes included) enjoy a moment of escapism during the capitalist grind, or else they might end up in someone's mocking post. To quote the caption of one popular meme depicting an anonymous train passenger reading a Brit lit classic: 'Poser art himbo on the subway barely 10 pages into his performative copy of Frankenstein.' It's called performative reading not just because someone might be pretending to read, but rather that they want everyone to know they read. The presumption is that they're performing for passersby, signaling they have the taste and attention span to pick up a physical book instead of putting in AirPods. And we're not talking about Colleen Hoover's latest or a romantasy title; the books that qualify are capital 'L' literature: Faulkner, Nabokov, Franzen. The heavier the better. Of course, it requires a deeply broken brain to be this bothered by a stranger's summer reading list. Chalk this obsession with performative reading up to a wariness of personal branding. We can't even indulge in an innocent hobby without it being considered some sort of aesthetic curation. Last month, Hailey Bieber poked fun at her vapid image in a Vogue TikTok, in which she pulled out The Portable Nietzsche ('I love this one, probably my fourth or fifth time reading it, so good') and Kant's Critique of Pure Reason ('been taking a lot of notes from this one'). The hosts of the Run-Through, Vogue's official podcast, later called the post 'satire'. Another win for the books-as-props community. Ten years ago, John Waters's famous quote about how if you go home with someone and they don't have books, 'don't fuck 'em' came printed on tote bags. Now, is the prevailing wisdom that anyone who dares read the newborn-sized Infinite Jest during their lunch break an absolute loser? I decided to find out in my own personal mini-odyssey. The performative reading canon spans many titles and genres, and I thought about using Robert Caro's The Power Broker, Moby Dick or The Bell Jar in this experiment. Ultimately, I chose Infinite Jest, because it clocks in at over just 1,000 pages, I've never met a person who had finished it, and at many times I've considered picking it up but reconsidered simply because I did not want to be the dude on the subway reading Infinite Jest. I found a $9 copy at my neighborhood bookstore in Brooklyn and braced myself for what I was sure would be abject humiliation courtesy of the gen Z cashier. Instead, she asked if I needed a bag. 'I think so – it's kind of heavy,' I said, propping it on my hip dramatically as if it were a small child. She nodded for the person behind me in line to step forward with the apathy of someone who's not being paid enough for this. On the train, I held the behemoth in front of my face, angling so the woman with groceries across from me could not help but notice that I was Better Than Her. As I peeked over the page, I tried to clock any annoyance. But, tragically, she had things to worry about other than my reading list. When I got to Washington Square Park, the unofficial campus center of New York University and general young person shenanigans hub, I awaited to be caught in the act, secretly filmed for a TikTok ridiculing my performance. Again, no one cared – except for a gen X man who sat on the park bench next to me, exactly the type of guy who might consider David Foster Wallace a modern-day saint. He politely asked how I was doing with the book. I told him I was 20 pages in and hadn't quite hit footnote hell yet. He said to keep going and suggested that I literally cut the book into thirds to make it more manageable. (Apparently this is common knowledge among Wallace support groups that have popped up through the years.) After I thanked him and went back to reading, a crazy thing happened: I enjoyed myself. One of life's simplest pleasures is falling into a story and tuning the world out. But to get there, you have to stop worrying about what someone's going to think of you – or whether you'll unwittingly end up in a bitchy TikTok. And as far as I know, I didn't. All the finger-wagging about performative reading begs the question: where are we supposed to read the classics? Can it only be done at home, like a secret bad habit? For people who take public transit, especially trains with spotty wifi, commuting can be the only time when we have an hour or so to totally focus on a book (and on not missing our stop). So the next time you see one of us reading at a bar, coffee shop or the park, please leave us alone. This is not for you; we're just enjoying the vibes. It's a scary time to be someone who cherishes the written word. The country is in the midst of a literary crisis. We're told by college professors that students can't read entire books anymore, that gen Z parents don't like reading to their kids, that smartphones ruined our ability to focus on anything longer than 30 seconds, that AI slop will take over publishing. Don't be a chump. Read everywhere, and read often. And maybe there's still some steeze that comes from flexing an 'important' book. When I posted on Instagram about reading Infinite Jest in public, a friend told me she once went to a 'nudist' spa in Portland where she encountered a guy reading the book in a jacuzzi. 'He had the biggest penis I've ever seen in my life,' she wrote. 'It wasn't a performance, it was promotion.'
South China Morning Post
09-06-2025
- Entertainment
- South China Morning Post
In quiet rebellion, Malaysians push back against book bans
Across cities in Malaysia , groups of people have begun quietly gathering in parks to read – no discussion, no assigned texts, just shared silence and books. In Kuala Lumpur's botanical gardens, mats are unfurled beneath the trees as readers lose themselves in novels, forming a ritual that has quietly caught on. It is one of several signs pointing to a revival in the country's reading culture. Yet even as Malaysians flock to book fairs and devour literature in record numbers, a parallel surge in state censorship has left writers and readers alike wondering what, exactly, is being protected – and from whom. 01:45 Asean leaders sign Kuala Lumpur Declaration as Malaysian PM warns of 'unsettled' international order Asean leaders sign Kuala Lumpur Declaration as Malaysian PM warns of 'unsettled' international order So far this year, authorities have banned 12 books – more than double the total outlawed in the past two years combined. The sudden spike has alarmed freedom-of-expression advocates and sent shock waves through Malaysia's literary community. Among the blacklisted titles is The American Roommate Experiment, a bestselling romantic comedy by Spanish author Elena Armas, which follows a woman who leaves her high-paying job to pursue her dream of writing romance novels. Also banned is Love, Theoretically by Italian neuroscientist-turned-author Ali Hazelwood, whose fiction often centres on women in academia and the sciences. Local romance novels have not been spared either. Mischievous Killer by local author Ariaseva and Tuan Ziyad: Forbidden Love by Bellesa have also been swept up in the crackdown.
Malay Mail
04-06-2025
- General
- Malay Mail
How reading physical books beats screen-reading
JUNE 4 — Last week, Prime Minister Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim called on Malaysians to strengthen the nation's reading culture, stressing that knowledge is essential to national progress. He also said that books are a source of true knowledge, not social media. That kind of struck home for me because I totally know the feeling. Last year, with all the hype about The Three-Body Problem on Netflix, I decided to buy Cixin Liu's first book of his trilogy. When I shared a photo of the book on WhatsApp, I was duly reminded of how rare a species I seem to be. At least two of my friends said they quit buying physical books and only read books on Kindle or download them to read on their devices. Now I'm perfectly cool with that. At least people are still reading monographs instead of merely FB comments. But I must say that the gradual (?) and eventual (?) fading away of physical books irks me to no end. The situation is even more pronounced when it comes to non-fiction. At my university where I've been working almost three years, I swear I have not seen a single physical textbook being held by any student. A staff member arranges books at the Kuala Lumpur International Book Fair 2025 at the World Trade Centre, Kuala Lumpur May 25, 2025 — Picture by Raymond Manuel This is nothing short of amazing considering how, decades ago, folks like me used to queue up at the college library to reserve books on the Required Reading list. Ergo, textbooks in the past were as critically important as water, today they're as non-essential as phone booths! Yes yes yes, no doubt 100 per cent e-books are more convenient to 'transport', you can store a million titles in just one device, you can perform those magical word searches, you can copy and paste tons of words and, of course, many of these can be obtained free (but don't ask me how). But physical books still have a wonder about them. There is something inexplicably delightful about holding Colleen Hoover's It Starts With Us in your hands, no matter how cheesy its cover. A physical book 'takes up space' (in a good way!) in your life and schedule in a way that a PDF cannot; every bookworm reading this knows that feeling of proudly taking a photo of your paperback next to your latte in Starbucks. Hey, if you're gonna show off what you're reading, there is nothing — absolutely nothing — compared to sharing a photo of a page from Neil Gaiman's Twice Cursed to your friends, is there? And no word search can beat the joy of flipping back and forth through, say, Daniel Kahneman's Thinking Fast and Slow trying to find that reference on anchoring bias or loss aversion. Or peeling away the price tag and cleaning the 'sticky' area so the entire back cover looks nice. Or nonchalantly glancing at the inside flaps right after finishing chapter 3. Or removing the dust jacket of a hardcover book so it doesn't get damaged from the frequent flipping; and enjoying the touch (and smell!) of the now 'naked' book. Or inserting a pretty book-mark, before later removing it and repurposing it as a marker because otherwise it's so damn hard to focus on Paul Lynch's Prophet Song. Those tactile sensations are, to many people, not a trivial thing. It can be the difference between scrolling through your phone and, uh, staring at your phone whilst your friend scrolls through it for you. Nobody would be caught dead wanting the latter experience even though you're 'seeing the same thing'. A physical book thus playfully reminds us that a work of writing extends beyond the sum of its words i.e. the 'packaging' or 'container' of said words can matter. One problem with reading PDFS is that such books, existing ethereally as they do in one's laptop or iPad, sometimes give the impression you haven't fully read the book. That's why some friends I know end up buying the physical book if they enjoyed the Kindle version; just to actually 'own' the product. In a world already dominated by screens, it's worth bearing in mind that realia still has its unique privileges. The written word, printed in real ink and bound with real glue and between real covers, remains a source of much enjoyment which PDFs can't hold a candle to.
Malay Mail
01-06-2025
- General
- Malay Mail
Anwar laments poor reading culture, says Malaysians must move beyond social media rants
KUALA LUMPUR, June 1 — Prime Minister Datuk Seri Anwar Ibrahim has urged Malaysians to read more, lamenting the nation's poor reading culture which he said remains far from ideal despite ongoing efforts. He said this reality is at odds with the aspirations of the MADANI government, which is anchored on the values of conviction and a deep appreciation for knowledge. 'Reading has not yet become a culture in our country, and to me, that is disheartening. When we speak of a MADANI nation, it is one that is rooted in conviction and love for knowledge,' he said. How can we claim to love knowledge if we only rely on speeches, opinions... sometimes filled with insults, but not grounded in knowledge? 'Reading just four lines or listening to two-minute rants on social media and forming conclusions, this world is challenging and it demands individuals with deep knowledge,' he said during his speech at the closing ceremony of the Kuala Lumpur International Book Fair (PBAKL) 2025 here today. Also present were Higher Education Minister Datuk Seri Dr Zambry Abdul Kadir, Education Minister Fadhlina Sidek, Selangor Menteri Besar Datuk Seri Amirudin Shari, Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka director-general Dr Hazami Jahari and PBAKL 2025 organising chairman Mohd Khair Ngadiron. — Bernama
