It’s a well-known fact that everyone has favorite publications that they don’t admit reading, guilty pleasures ranging from Playboy to “Ice by Ice: The Vanilla Ice Story in His Own Words.”

The flip side of this secret indulgence is an intellectual hypocrisy, a tendency to pretend to have read books we’ve never even opened.

In any course section there are one or two people that will blithely elaborate their views, completely undeterred by the fact that they haven’t done the reading and have absolutely nothing of interest to say. But everyone at Harvard has at one point or another been in the awkward position of bullshitting about something they haven’t read. Whether it’s at a 9 a.m. section or in passing conversation, we’re reluctant to admit that we just haven’t read it.

It’s easy to understand why people bullshit in class. It’s a necessary skill, fabrication for survival, forced upon us by the combination of too little sleep and too many commitments.

But some argue that faking it has become an integral part of American life. In 2005, philosophy professor Harry Frankfurt came out with “On Bullshit,” a slim volume that claimed bullshit is abundant in all parts of our culture. With a variety of sources, Frankfurt attempted to formulate a theory of how the process of bullshitting functions. He ultimately decided that bullshit is a dangerous evil that can cause our society to lose sight of the truth’s value.

But sometimes these situations are difficult to escape. I recently ran into a friend on Dunster Street, who asked me if I’d finished reading his copy of Philip Roth’s classic, “American Pastoral.”

Suddenly ambushed, I heard “Yes, I loved it!” exiting my mouth with the over-enthusiasm of a coked-up Dallas Cowgirl.

In reality I had only reached roughly page 20, where the narrator starts recounting his prostate cancer, complete with details involving impotence and adult diapers. References to elderly men’s uncontrollable bladders are a deal-breaker for me.

But I know “American Pastoral” is a great book because somehow everyone around me, while still managing to maintain more activities and better grades than me, has had the time to read Philip Roth and recognize his genius. Or have they?

If Frankfurt is right, maybe they’re all pretending and my inferiority complex is just the result of a “Matrix”-like web of deception.

Pierre Bayard’s new book has confirmed my suspicions. In the French literature professor’s “How to Talk About Books You Haven’t Read,” he candidly admits to having lectured on books he has never read. I always knew that most of the class hadn’t read “Moby Dick,” but I never thought to ask whether my prof had.

Bayard’s book is in some ways a higher brow cousin of CollegeHumor.com’s “Faking It,” a manual for how to talk about things, specifically books, about which you are ignorant. It is a book that provides validation and comfort for non-readers, arguing that people feel unnecessary guilt for not having read a book.

Bayard is attempting to alleviate their guilt and give them the tools to avoid feeling excluded from the book-reading community.

While I’m skeptical of the logic of a book that argues against reading, Bayard is onto something. Why do we feel the need to fake it in casual conversation? The idea that there is a canon of great literature that one must read in order to be cultured is daunting and unrealistic.

Bayard provides a number of tips for talking about the canon without reading it: generalize about the author, use the book to talk about your personal experiences, or (a devastatingly original move) try to change the subject. But I can’t escape the feeling that somewhere here is a “Curb Your Enthusiasm” episode waiting to happen.

Some form of bullshitting about books will always be unavoidable, as it is in any form of small talk. And Bayard’s idea that shared reading provides community is right on.

Harvard is filled with societies devoted to various forms of the high arts. Anyone who’s been to the events of such organizations knows that they can be rife with pretension and snarky comments, people showing off what they know and pretending to know more than they do.

Books can provide entrance into cultured circles the same way obscure bands can help you be a hipster or knowledge of Britney’s disdain for underwear can establish your pop culture credentials. Perhaps the best lesson to take from Bayard is not how to bullshit, but rather how to read in a world where everyone is bullshitting.

—Staff writer Madeline K.B. Ross can be reached at mross@fas.harvard.edu.