Just published "You've Never Finished These 7 Books" and I'm still chuckling at the responses flooding in. Nothing brings out people's defensive mechanisms quite like calling them out on their literary pretensions. The piece struck a nerve I'd been wanting to hit for years - this collective charade we all participate in where intellectual credibility depends on claiming to have read books that, let's be honest, most of us abandoned somewhere around page 50.
The genesis of this piece came from years of faculty meetings where colleagues would drop references to Infinite Jest or Gravity's Rainbow with the casual confidence of someone who'd actually wrestled with those linguistic monsters. I'd watch these performances and think: "We're all lying to each other, and we all know we're lying, so why are we still doing this dance?"
What I love about satirical writing is that it gives you permission to say what everyone's thinking but nobody wants to admit. The truth is, most people who claim to love Dostoyevsky couldn't pick him out of a police lineup - that line took me three drafts to get right, but it captures the absurd disconnect between our literary aspirations and our actual reading habits.
The research phase was particularly enjoyable. I didn't actually conduct a poll at Applebee's, but I've spent enough time in similar establishments to know exactly how those conversations would go. The beauty of satirical journalism is that you can create "evidence" that feels more true than actual data. When I wrote that 83% of people who claim to love Dostoyevsky are lying, readers nodded along because it feels accurate, regardless of whether Oxford actually conducted such a study.
The celebrity comedian quotes were essential for this piece. Jerry Seinfeld's observation about Infinite Jest footnotes needing their own assistant captures his obsessional style perfectly. Ron White's comparison to CrossFit - "everyone says they do it, nobody actually does" - reflects his cynical everyman perspective. Sarah Silverman's bit about rooting for the English to ban books has her particular brand of dark absurdity.
But the deeper purpose here is exploring how we construct intellectual identity through performance rather than genuine engagement. The piece isn't really about books - it's about authenticity, status anxiety, and the peculiar ways we lie to ourselves and others about our cultural consumption. This connects to broader themes I've been exploring at bohiney.com about authenticity and performance in modern culture.
The hyperlinked ecosystem of references includes connections to yoga instructors performatively reading War and Peace, the 14 books we actually read, and broader questions about humanity's relationship with truth.
The response has been fascinating. Half the comments are people confessing their own reading failures, relieved to finally be honest. The other half are defensive, proving the piece's point by performatively listing all the classics they've "definitely" finished. Both responses validate the satirical premise.
Tomorrow I'm thinking about tackling the equally absurd world of craft coffee culture, where ordering a drink requires more credentials than applying for a mortgage.