the danger of books
I get off the train and onto the street on my way to the office when I see a young man walking towards me who looks very familiar.
This is because he is familiar. We went to college together. And so I said hello. Which is unusual for me. I am generally the type to slink into the corner and hide, pretend that I don't know a person. Because in truth, I am hopelessly shy.
We spoke ever so briefly for maybe 10 seconds. Blah blah blah.
I notice that he keeps looking down at the book I have in my hand.
It's an evolutionary biology book about reproductive strategy in all manner of organisms - from fruit flies to flatworms to chickens to humans - specifically looking at differences in strategy between males and females, more specifically with a particular emphasis on the question of whether non-monogamy has any evolutionary benefits for females. There's some crazy stuff going on out there outside our own species, kids. And apparently, for some organisms, the battle is not necessarily won upon consumation of "desire" ...
So any way, this is my morning train reading these days. Cool.
But back to the appearance of this book. The cover of this book is hot pink and the title emblazoned along the spine in large curvise text is: "Promiscuity"
There was no time to explain the whole title: "Promiscuity: An evolutionary history of sperm competition" although I doubt that would have helped.
There is no time. No time to discuss. No time to explain. No time for much beyond our simple exchange. We are each headed in opposite directions. We say good bye and part company.
And I walked away wondering how one might judge a person based on judging the title and spine design of her book.