A few weeks ago, I abandoned a book two-thirds of the way through because I wasn’t enjoying it. I’m glad I did.
But. Since then I’ve brought home book after book after book after book after… well, you get the idea, and nothing seems to stick. It seems I’m in a book rut. I’ve tried reading books from the book pit (that overly large and unruly pile of books that have followed me home that exists in my living room), and I’ve tried reading new authors. I’ve tried reading past award winners, and I’ve tried reading old favourites. (The current forerunner is pictured on the left.)