As someone who grew up reading everything he could get his hands on, I find myself somewhat disinterested in books these days. As I write this, I am glancing over at two bookcases with dozens of books ranging from reference works to books on the law, history, religion, and writing.

As I walk down the stairs from my home office, several dozen more are shelved on the landing, ranging from fiction to local history. Of course, there are books in the bookcase in the den and hundreds of paperback science fiction publications from my youth stored in the attic.

Additionally, others have recently given me books on the read-me-next table near my bed. I just finished two from that stack and will tackle another soon.

So, if the equivalent of a small library surrounds me, why would I find myself disinterested in books these days? First, I no longer read for entertainment. I wish that were not the case in some ways, but that is my reality.

The preceding does not mean I am not entertained by some of what I read. At times, I am entertained by what I read. Sadly, it is not like the days of my youth and young adult years. There is a reason for that. In fact, I wrote about this a year ago this week. Check out Of Authors Old and New, and let me know what you think.

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