I was coming through the barriers at Gravesend railway station when the woman next to me said: “Oh my God, where are you up to? Isn’t it great?” At this point, I was on page 15 of Barbara Kingsolver’s novel Demon Copperhead, late to the party, no real views yet, but there is nothing I like more than a random encounter, so I said: “Yes, I love it.”
By this time, we had lingered so long that the gates had opened and closed and we had to get the train guy to help us. He had read it, too, and really loved it, which seemed to soften the irritation at two idiots who couldn’t exit a station.
As I was carrying the novel in the street, a woman stopped to say she loved it. She got so carried away with the moment that she also said she loved my coat. On another train, someone in a neighbouring seat said she hadn’t read it, but all her friends had told her to and she wanted the experience of a travelling stranger to seal the deal.
We had a searching, if brief, between-two-stations chat about what it is, exactly, that makes you resist reading the thing that everyone else is reading, even when you trust their judgment. Were we worried that they had all got carried away with each other’s enthusiasm? Was it a fear that you had to like it or you would become a pariah? Were you just trying to be original and different, the person who hasn’t read “the thing”? I told her it would be quicker to stop soul‑searching and just read it.
She still looked as if she was on the fence, so I told her about my friend’s husband, who liked it so much that he then listened to the audiobook of the work that inspired it, David Copperfield, to see which he liked best; he got so engrossed that he banged his head on the underside of a cupboard door he was painting.
The moral of all this is: if everyone is reading a thing, you may as well just read it, rather than wait a year before surrendering to the inevitable. And if you don’t like random encounters, you are going to have to wrap it in brown paper.
• Zoe Williams is a Guardian columnist
Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver (Faber & Faber, £9.99). To support the Guardian and Observer, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.
