Secrecy and reading

My boyfriend, Nate, is what you’d call a closet reader. In general, reading is not an activity or hobby of his. I gave him a copy of the first Harry Potter book years ago and he still hasn’t finished it. I joke with him that the reading level is a little too high and he should be reading something simpler, perhaps Hop On Pop or Fun with Dick and Jane. The truth is: not everyone feels the same way about the Harry Potter series. Yes, this is somewhat sad and tragic for me to comprehend but I’ll manage. Somehow. So although Nate isn’t what I would call a reader, he is what I would call a closet reader. And there is a difference.

“Let’s just stop in for a few seconds,” I say, as we pass a bookstore. The seconds turn into hours, the hours turn into days and I have nothing to do with such madness. I’m fine with a bookstore hit-and-run. I only need a half hour or maybe an hour at most before I start itching to leave. However, by the time I’m ready I must go find Nate, who is always in the middle of reading an entire book. From start to finish, no less. Sometimes he is standing up reading; sometimes he is sitting down on the floor. In these moments he is a vision for literacy in the United States.

“Can we go? I’m ready to leave,” I cut in.

“Okay, just give me a few more seconds.” Translation: We will leave in an hour, or perhaps the following day.

I was waiting in the bookstore for Nate to “finish” reading today and so I had time to go over these details. I began to wonder, are there other closet readers out there? Can certain places, like bookstores, morph non-readers into readers? I don’t have an answer to these questions but I do know this: bookstores do not make for a hot date.