Façades are dropped and judgments suspended on a commuter train
Ah, the anonymity of commuting on the train, where “no one pays anyone else the blindest bit of attention.” Voiced with utter confidence by Iona Iverson, the flamboyant heart, wit, and soul of British author Clare Pooley’s second novel, these words indicate a serious inability to read the room – or, rather, a rail car.
Attention is very much being paid on the daily trips to and fro. It’s simply unacknowledged, a bit sheepish, and fueled by assumptions.
