In a used bookstore I’ve made my selection – Mallarmé’s Poesies, and approach the counter. The cashier is chatting with a a female friend who’s standing to the side, casually thumbing through a book. As I hand over my selection I hear the man say something like, ‘ … or those customers who buy books in a foreign language that they don’t really speak.’ The woman smiles awkwardly: the comment has apparently come at the tail-end of some longer diatribe, and is not directed at me. But the coincidence is nonetheless embarrassing. I smile too, and say something like, ‘Well, glad that’s not me –.’ I wonder if I should say more, but the moment is too fraught, and I’m not sure whether to further defend myself against an accusation that doesn’t apply in my case, or engage the man in a discussion about this topic. After all, I wonder, why would someone who doesn’t speak a language buy a book in that language? To appear more cultured or intelligent? As a sort of artifact whose ultimate purpose is not to be read but rather to be possessed? And how does the cashier know such people exist at all? Has the he interrogated various customers in foreign languages to establish their veracity of their reading claims?