Without a cover, no one need know that you’re getting your fix of cheesy vampire action.
It can’t be put much more succinctly than this:
I’d also point out that once our reading material is a matter of privacy between the reader and the material, it should allow for a nice bit of freedom from the judging gawkers on the metro, whose leering can be either a source of pride or embarrassment. Holding the New Yorker on a train, for example, is not just a quiet subway read, it’s also something of a conspicuous announcement to the train. Clutching Infinite Jest on the metro is the literary equivalent of holding a megaphone next to your ear while you listen to Rachmaninoff, loudly, and animate the arpeggios with your fingers. A bit of discretion won’t kill us.
Death to scornful poseurs.
