Focus, focus, focus

 I snapped to attention when reading Michelle Slatalla's article in the Times The endless first chapter. I feared that I was the only one who knew, let alone would admit, that I can't seem to get past the first five pages of any book I have been trying to read, lately. 

Is it a correctable condition? Will I deteriorate into a smiling, nodding, but inarticulate participant at cocktail parties when folks regale each other with the latest literary adventure they are engaged in?

So, I undertook a mini research project, including Slatalla's questioning of Dr. MaryAnne Wolf, to understand more about what was the reasons behind this current reality. Synthesizing it down to it's most comprehensible level (like that sentence?) Dr. Wolf said, "We don't have genes for reading." (Well, that's a relief looking at my relatives). "It's an activity that we invented, and by doing it, we show that our brain has the capacity to go beyond itself...deduction, critical analysis, imagination, contemplation." The net result, Wolf suggests, is keep trying to reengage, it will happen, you'll start reading again.

Where was I?

Oh yeah, not focusing. Her suggestion, if you ...fell off the reading wagon... pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again. Does this work for you? Sounds suspiciously like dieting. 

So, it must have to do with my simply having TOO MUCH to do and therefore being simply too distracted to focus for any length of time. 

Which somehow feels like much less of a character flaw than not reading. So I think I'll stick with that excuse for now.