I’m R.A.D.D.: Reading Attention Deficit Disorder

I know I’ve been kind of quiet about what I’ve been reading, lately.  This is primarily due to the fact that I’ve been stricken with an extreme case of RADD-ness, or Reading Attention Deficit Disorder.  Don’t think it exists?  Go check your DSMIV.  Wait, don’t.  It’s not actually in there.  In fact, the acronym (if you Google it) actually stands for something like “Recording Artists Against Drunk Driving.”  But wouldn’t that be RAADD?  Nevertheless, I am reclaiming the acronym for my own purposes: defining a habit.

Being RADD is a complicated affliction.  Especially when coupled with my obsessive book-hoarding tendencies.  On most “normal” days, I have two or three books going at once.  Usually, this breaks down into: something heavy, something light, and something theoretical.  For obvious reasons (i.e. it’s best to have something you really have to think through, something to tell you why you’re thinking, and something to help you stop thinking).  However, for whatever reason, my usual, completely manageable case of RADD has spiraled into full-blown RADD-ness.

I am currently, simultaneously and not very well, reading seven books.  Now, if I were in school, this would be nothing to balk at.  Yet, when you’re reading for school, there’s an end purpose.  You have to discuss the material in class, or write a paper, or take a test.  That’s your job.  My seven books are purely for pleasure purposes.  However, the sheer multitude of different plot-lines seems to make the experience a bit less pleasurable.  I hate not finishing books, even the bad ones, and so end up in situations like these.

Here’s a little log of what I’m reading:

The Norton Anthology of Theory and Criticism: 2nd Edition, Gen. Editor Vincent B. Leitch.  Nerd alert on this one!  If you have absolutely any interest or desire to learn more about critical literary theory, I cannot even begin to tell you just how significantly this tome has contributed to my life.  I’ve been waiting months to buy my copy, which pubbed in January.  Contained within are over 2600 pages of essays and excerpts discussing various literary movements, theories, and developments.  Currently, I am rereading “Tradition and the Individual Talent” by TS Eliot, but plan on starting at the very beginning and working my way through the entire anthology.  I’m not sure if that’s the “proper” way to do things, but I feel the need to experience a bit of “school work,” and so am willing to attempt the feat.

The Wings of a Falcon by Cynthia Voigt.  I’m rereading a book that I read and reread several times as a pre-teen.  It took me forever to find this book, as it appears to be long out-of-print.  The Wings of a Falcon is about Oriel and Griff, boys enslaved on an island by the Great Damall, who flee their entrapment and go on an Odyssey-esque journey to find absolute freedom.  Unfortunately, I’m discovering that some of the magic is lost, now that I’m fourteen years older and no longer an awkward 11-year old, pining for fantastical worlds (all right… no longer as awkward).

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Klay by Michael Chabon.  Yes, I am still reading this.

Franny and Zooey by JD Salinger.  Granted, I am 20 pages from finishing.  My thoughts are beyond a blurb, so I will just say that I have developed a new opinion on Salinger’s writing.

Poet of the Appetites: The Life and Loves of M.F.K Fisher by Joan Reardon.  I began reading this at the start of the Foodista/Moleskine contest to inspire my judging capabilities.

What is the What by Dave Eggers.  I’m reading this bit by bit.  Eggers is an ego and a writing-style that takes some getting used to, in my opinion, so I am currently reading in a sort of stop-start method that limits frustration.  I’m thinking the best pursuit is to abandon reading this all together until I can devote more time and patience to the story.

On the Road: The Original Scroll by Jack Kerouac.  I am thoroughly embarrassed to admit that I still have 12 pages left of this book to read.  While vacationing in Florida, the bright sun and long days spent reading allowed me to really focus my energy on this book.  However, once it was packed away in my newly acquired 1950s Samsonite suitcase, I neglected to retrieve the novel from its new home, then proceeded to forget about it completely.  This has less to do with my opinion of the novel and more to do with the onslaught of Life that came with returning from vacation.  Which is no excuse, especially when it involves about a half-hour of reading.  I am just distracted so easily by the other glossy covers beckoning to me from my bookshelves.

And there you have it.  The symptoms of my RADD.  I am feeling extremely frustrated.  It’s as though my normal snails-pace reading habits have slowed down to something unspeakably lethargic.  Perhaps what I am reading is not adequately inspiring me?  Perhaps I need a novel to refresh and reopen my mind to that creative spark?  Maybe I just need to put all the dang books down and start anew.  What do you do when you’re experiencing RADD? Any advice can help!