A while ago I was discussing how sometimes when reading a book my mind wanders. I can read a few pages then suddenly I realise I’m supposed to be reading rather than day dreaming. Even though I have ‘read’ a few pages, I have absolutely no idea what I’d just read. No idea at all.
A friend told me when this happens it is not your fault, but more that the style of writing isn’t easy to read. I was dubious to say the least. Surely if that happens when you read, it means you have the attention span of a gnat – rather than poor writing prose by millionaire professional authors?
My brother in law gets totally imersed in books. So much so that you can ask him something and he will not have any idea someone had just spoke, never mind spoke to him. I don’t think he can read, he just goes into a catatonic coma and just pretends to read.
Like a baby is easily distracted when someone rattles a set of keys, claps their hands, squeeks a noisy toy or shows them bright colours. That’s how easy I’m distracted (not that I get people clapping their hands or shaking keys in front of my face often. “Who’s a purdy boy?” said in baby talk and a rasping of the tongue on my stomach – now that I get all the time).
Anyway, this motion of poor writing by professional authors falls flat on it’s face, when I’m currently wading my way through His Dark Materials by Phillip Pullam. A series of books written for ‘young adults’. Maybe I should go back to infants and just read Peter and Jane books. They were easy to read and ace. I’d be able to read the full series in about a day rather than the current 6 months it’s taking me.
I’d also get that little pang of achievement/cleverness that you get when you finish a book a lot more!