This is what I am reading now.
Except I am not reading it. I am avoiding it.
Does this ever happen to you? Where you are reading a book, except somehow you end up reading everything but the book that you're reading? Usually I think that it just means that I don't like the book, except that in this case I do like the book. At least I think I do.
I like Michael Chabon's books. I think he's quite the amazing writer. And when I get into this one—when I read it at night, as I am going to sleep—I get caught up. But when there's a moment during the day when I have time, somehow I just don't turn to it.
I can't explain it. Sometimes I get angry, and I blame the book: "You're overwritten!" I tell it. "You're too Jewish!"
Sometimes I get maudlin. "It's me—I know it's me."
And the truth is, it is me. Something is not quite right inside, and the evidence is that I can't lose myself in a book the way I need to. But what am I to do, when the cure for my problem is the one thing I can't have?