Ten weeks and five days

I'm really struggling to read novels at the moment. It used to be that I'd go to the library, take out five or six books (all fiction) and read them all within a few weeks. And I never stopped reading half way through, even if the book was a bit crap. But since Alice was born I find that pretty much every other book I borrow is incapable of holding my attention and I've given up on half of them, while the ones I do persist with take me ages to finish. (I've also run up £16 of library fines but that's another story.) Partly I suppose it's the nature of looking after a baby - what I have heard described as the endless 'interruptibility' of motherhood which means it's rare that I can settle down with a book for any stretch of time. And then because time is so precious I'm unwilling to waste it on mediocre novels any more.

Not that I'm on a diet of high literature either - fiction generally isn't floating my boat the way it used to. I can handle humourous or genre type novels if well written, but anything purporting to emotional/social realism may as well stay on the shelf. I suppose it's fairly obvious why - my own life is quite emotionally real enough just now without seeking out vicarious experiences as well.