I've been in a reading slump lately. It took me three weeks to finish Douglas Clegg's Neverland for review on Bookgasm - it's only 278 pages long - and I could only make it 30 pages into The Lost Summer of Louisa May Alcott. I've read 10 pages of Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, and have temporarily put that one down as well.
It's not that there is anything wrong with the books - Neverland was a perfectly haunting, creepy novel, and Lost Summer and Abe Lincoln were both interesting in both writing and premise, but they all just failed to captivate. And yet I have had no trouble plowing through my Wheel of Time Re-read, finishing Book 5 last week and now a few hundred pages into Book 6.
Instead of blaming the books, I'm blaming myself. I think am so frazzled with work, job hunting and planning a move that what little time I do find to read, I am either unable or unwilling to delve into new book territory. I feel I am too distracted, not doing the book justice, not giving it as much of a chance as I believe every new book deserves.
The comforting mass-market paperback pages of Jordan's Wheel of Time are familiar and captivating, though, giving me enough distraction from the stresses of every day and yet mindless enough - mostly because I've read them all already - that I don't feel I am missing out on the beauty of a story.
But it goes beyond the meat of the Jordan books - the suck-you-in plot paired with thousands of pages of distraction - and more into the familiarity of the text. I'm itching to re-read The Unbearable Lightness of Being, and Traveling With Pomegranates, and Freddy and Fredericka. I am excited at the prospect of poring over each title for a second or third time, catching things I've missed, discovering new ways of looking at the story, and remembering what I've forgotten.
Maybe this is a reading parallel to the beginnings of my goodbyes to New York City. Maybe it is a small way of digging in my heels as I face so many changes, of keeping something similar, familiar, comfortable. Or maybe I'm just in a reading slump, and it has nothing to do with all of the life changes in these few months, and I just need to find the right book to suit my quirky mood. The only thing I'm certain of in all of this is that now, more than ever, my book selections - or non-selections, as the case may be - have been incredibly dependent on my state of mind.
What about you? Anyone else have reading slumps, or strange urges to only re-read materials? Any get-out-of-your-slump reading suggestions?
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