As I've gotten older my attention span has gotten shorter. Does that sound backwards to you too? When I was younger if I started a book I made myself finish it no matter how much I hated it. These days, not so much. I just don't have the patience anymore to slog through page after page of boring or poorly written crap. I forget now which book it was that was a break through for me. I think it was Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S. Thompson, but it might have been On the Road by Jack Kerouac or Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole. All books that came highly recommended from my sister. Fortunately over the years, she and my mother have gotten better at recognizing what I might like and what it might be best to not try to foist upon me. Sometimes I myself err when picking up a book. Just the other day I had to abandon a mystery in the Anna Pigeon series, of which I'd already read many, in favor of Certain Girls by Jennifer Weiner. Judge all you'd like, but I read to escape from my life, so I'd prefer something more interesting and possibly more exciting than I'd be able to offer. I have no interest in reading about the horrors of our world. I know they're out there, and it's just not the escapism I have in mind.