What’s worse is when people aren’t content to learn the name of your book, they want you to tell them all about it. If I wanted to have a conversation with someone, I wouldn’t be holding a book in front of my face.
Once when I was a kid I was reading an anthology of dragon stories called Dragons, Dragons, Dragons. One of the day care ladies apparently decided I’d rather have an inane conversation with her than read my book.
“So Little Lamia, what are you reading?”
“A book.”
“I know that silly, what’s it called?”
“Dragons, Dragons, Dragons.”
“Oh. What’s it about?”
“Dragons…dragons…and then some more dragons.”
Eventually she got the hint and left me alone.