Being watched while you read is naturally a little disturbing. Your attention is elsewhere; some kind of vestigial primal instinct reminds you of the threat of being attacked while one’s vigilance is relaxed. But the standing room only peak hour morning train on the Inner West line is not generally a hotbed of violence, at least if you leave out the elbowing and the rush for the doors at each station.
No, the real discomfort comes when the observer sneaks a peek at what has so engrossed the reader. It’s almost an invasion of privacy – they are privy to the thoughts and images being beamed into the reader’s mind. They know where we ‘are’. And sometimes, that can be a little embarrassing. I read a lot of crime novels involving sadistic serial killers – not to mention true crime. How do I appear to an observer as I devour my book, apparently relishing a detailed description of torture and fear?
Let me tell you a story.
I was on a train. I got on at Newtown and as usual it was standing room only, but I didn’t mind. I had my book in one hand and a metal handhold in the other and I had just enough time to finish my chapter before facing the melee trying to escape from Wynyard station.
I was at this time reading In the Cut by Susanna Moore ( later adapted into a movie, but I have long vetoed Meg Ryan from my cinematic life, so I’ve never seen it). Those of you have read it know that this is a very, very dark book in which the main character – a writing teacher – is sleeping with a policeman she suspects is involved in a series of murders in her area. There are some super intense sex scenes and lots of very heavy self-destructive behavior. Who is killing these women? Who is the man she sees in the shadows being pleasures by a red haired prostitute who is later found dead? Why does she find part of a fake rubber body part on her doorstep?
I happened to be reading one of the encounters – violent, and very adults only - between the teacher and the policeman that morning on the train. As was, it turned out, the little old lady standing next to me. As the train pulled into Wynyard, I reached the end of the chapter and shut the book with a sigh. She looked up at me and said with an air of extreme disapproval ‘WELL. That looks like a VERY INTERESTING book.’
Readers, I fled.
In memory of the little old lady, I offer you a personally curated (when I say ‘personally curated’ I mean ‘random’) list:
Scenes in Books You May Prefer Not to Read on the Train
Blood Stain – Peter Lalor
The fourth chapter, ‘Inside the Slaughterhouse: 1 March 2000′ is a brutal account of the crime scene at 84 St Andrews St, Aberdeen NSW in which John Price was killed, skinned and partially cooked. You can practically feel the heat of the day as the cops stagger out of the house, hands over their mouths; hear the low buzzing of flies and cicadas; and if you try to imagine the smell, well, you get a bit faint yourself. A very gory chapter in a gripping account of a truly savage murder.
Quote from Wells, one of the attending officers: ‘You didn’t have to be a brain surgeon to work out where the head was.’
The Big Nowhere – James Ellroy
When I first read the scene which ends with one of the main characters cutting their own throat, I was so shocked and upset that I had to put the book down for a while and make myself a cup of tea. Imagine if I had been in public!
Quote: ‘[He] picked up a serrated-edged carving knife. He tested the heft, found it substantial and said goodbye to Mal and Jack and Doc.’
Still Missing - Chevy Stevens
For a start, this book is not good for trains unless you don’t mind missing your stop – it’s one of those books that seems to hypnotise you into ‘just one more page’ or ‘just to the end of the chapter’ and before you know it, it’s 4am or you’re at the end of the line. But it’s also because Annie’s ordeal is genuinely upsetting, and like Annie we are distressed by the apparent compliance and emotional cunning she is forced to employ in order to survive. But she does survive, and she is simply awesome. The scenes I would avoid on the train are those dealing with Annie’s imprisonment and the repeated assaults she suffers at the hands of the Psycho.
The Mall - S.L. Grey
This genre-defying book abounds in bizarre and gruesome moments. From the moment Rhoda’s charge goes missing in the huge mall we’re sucked into a world of increasing tension; as Rhoda and Dan become lost themselves we start to feel the tiniest buzz of fear; by the time they are working out the code in the elevator to arrest their freefall we’re biting our nails and our heads are aching from the description of the earsplitting noise. So when they finally re-emerge into what appears to be the mall, the relief is huge. Of course all is not as it seems, and nowhere is that lesson more vividly taught than when Dan decides he needs a burger. Which turns out to be covered in mysterious grease and is still bleeding. Or when he meets a nice girl working in a shop. She’s chained to the counter. Oh wait, I guess it’s not that different from Westfields after all! 
The Killer Inside Me – Jim Thompson
Jim Thompson was an American writer who penned more than 30 novels but was hardly recognised in his lifetime (though according to Wikipedia, his publisher Lion Books did try unsuccessfully to have The Killer Inside Me nominated for a National Book Award). The Killer Inside Me is an amazing novel, considered by most to be his finest work – personally I’ve always preferred his later book Pop.1280, another tale with a murderous sheriff at its heart – and it was recently filmed by Michael Winterbottom with Casey Affleck playing Lou Ford. I’m sure the movie is very powerful. But that’s exactly why I’m not sure I could ever watch it – you see, the book is so very powerful already. The scenes in which Lou kills first his lover and then later his fiancee are probably best avoided when you’re on public transport (or about to travel the deep South!)
Quote: I killed Amy Stanton on Saturday night on the fifth of April, 1952, at a few minutes before nine o’clock.
Dead Lovely - Helen Fitzgerald
This highly entertaining book is packed with awkward public transport material! I think I’ll just quote the opening paras and let you decide:
Some people find themselves all at once, like an explosion. Backpacking in the Himalayas maybe, or tripping on acid. Some people study the art of finding themselves, and graduate – or not – after years of diligence. I found myself bit by bit, through a series of accidents really.
The first bit I found was in a tent in the West Highland Way. My best friend Sarah was asleep. Her husband was lying beside her, and I was swallowing his semen.
Tell us, have you ever been embarrassed by what you were reading on the train?
Hello, Jessica. Having read several books re John Price and his horrific, I have to admit it is the worst I have encountered. Enjoyed reading you. Cheers, Dave (ex Sydney boy).