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Hardcover

FYI, you look like an enormous nerd reading a hardcover book in transit. 

Its mass reminiscent of a tome that might be pulled from an archaelogical dig of an ancient culture that committed entire generations of slaves to the production of a single tome. It obscuring everything from view, your one hand trying its best to be nonchalant about supporting this gravity-well producing bulwark of dead tree fibre; your face a rictus of pleasure and throbbing, knuckle crushing pain as gravity and the miracle of torque wrests all nerve function and fine motor control from you forever.

On the plus side, you can use it as a crude bludgeon on that asshole who has to play Nine Inch Nails on his iPod at volume 11.
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