Tales from the Tube: Books, Bonding, and Avoiding Eye Contact

Ah, the London Underground. A labyrinthine marvel where we, the ever-busy Londoners, perfect the art of pretending other people don’t exist. Yet, in this subterranean world of screeching brakes, inexplicable delays, and the occasional busker who really should audition for Britain’s Got Talent, something magical is happening: people are reading. Actual books! And no, I don’t mean Kindle screens doubling as shields for TikTok binges. I mean honest-to-goodness, spine-cracking, page-turning books.

The Tube has always been a microcosm of humanity, but lately, it feels like a literary salon on wheels. Forget doom-scrolling—it seems the Metropolitan Line is the new book club. As someone who commutes daily, I’ve taken to observing what my fellow passengers are reading. It’s part anthropological study, part nosiness. And let me tell you, it’s fascinating.

The London Reading List: A Sociological Snapshot

First, there are the classics enthusiasts. These are the brave souls lugging around copies of War and Peace or Middlemarch. Their dedication is admirable, though you do wonder if they’re reading or just using the book as a makeshift dumbbell. Then, there’s the Colleen Hoover brigade. You know the ones: dog-eared copies of It Ends with Us clutched in manicured hands. Say what you will about Hoover’s prose (and I have), but she’s clearly struck a chord with the masses.

Thriller fans are another breed entirely. Spot someone with a Freida McFadden or a Dan Brown novel, and you know they’re living for the twists and turns—even if their own commute is a predictable slog from Zone 4. Meanwhile, the non-fiction devotees are easy to identify: they’re the ones squinting at books about productivity or stoicism, presumably trying to figure out how to survive the Central Line at rush hour without losing their minds.

And let’s not forget the self-proclaimed intellectuals, holding aloft obscure philosophy tomes or poetry collections. Are they actually reading them? Who knows. But the performance is top-notch.

SMUT ALERT!

There’s a special kind of chaos that comes with reading a smutty book in public. You sit there, clutching your Kindle or paperback like it’s a holy text, but deep down, you know. You know. Your cheeks are flaming, your breathing’s uneven, and you’re doing everything in your power to avoid eye contact with the stranger across the café who definitely just saw you gasp. Is it a particularly spicy plot twist? Did the characters finally give in to all that tension? Maybe. But now you’re stuck with the knowledge that, to an outsider, you look like a pervert cosplaying as a bookworm. And heaven forbid someone asks, “What are you reading?” because, let’s face it, “Oh, just a steamy enemies-to-lovers slow burn where they hate each other but also can’t stop ripping each other’s clothes off,” doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. So you nod, mumble “Just fiction,” and pray they think it’s Tolstoy.

The Unspoken Rules of Tube Reading

Reading on the Tube is a delicate dance. First, you must master the art of holding your book at an angle that allows you to read without catching someone else’s eye. Eye contact is the cardinal sin of commuting, second only to playing music out loud. Second, you must develop an iron will to avoid peeking at the text over someone’s shoulder. It’s tempting, especially when the person next to you is reading something juicy, but resist! We’re Londoners; we’re better than that (mostly).

But here’s the thing: books have a strange way of breaking down those barriers we so carefully erect. I’ve seen it happen. A woman reading Pride and Prejudice catches the eye of a fellow Austen fan, and suddenly they’re chatting about Mr. Darcy like old friends. A man with a battered copy of The Hobbit ends up bonding with a stranger over their mutual love of Tolkien. These moments are rare, but they’re a reminder that even in a city as sprawling and impersonal as London, connections can be made—sometimes with nothing more than a shared love of stories.

Why We’re Reading More (and Doom-Scrolling Less)

So, what’s behind this rise in Tube reading? Maybe it’s a backlash against the relentless onslaught of bad news and social media. Maybe it’s the allure of escapism. Or maybe, just maybe, we’re all collectively realising that staring at our phones for an hour a day isn’t doing wonders for our mental health. Whatever the reason, it’s a trend I’m fully on board with (pun absolutely intended).

So, the next time you’re on the Tube, take a look around. Observe the literary landscape. And who knows? You might just find your next read—or even strike up a conversation. Just don’t make eye contact first. This is London, after all.