I Can’t Read


Surprised? It’s not really that simple. I can read; I can edit. The problem is that I can’t read the things I want to read. I started reading Antonin Artaud: Selected Writings yesterday. I’m still wading through the introduction by Susan Sontag. I’m on page xxix, after two days with not really much else to do. I start reading, and 15 to 20 minutes later, sleep or scrolling through Facebook suddenly seems far more attractive than struggling to focus my attention on the page in front of me. I have so many books on my shelves, so many adventures waiting for me, but I just can’t muster the extended concentration needed to penetrate those worlds of words. So, that’s how Harry Potter and I became such great friends. Because Harry Potter, I can read.


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