I never knew any man cured of inattention.
~ Jonathan Swift ~
Over the past few months my attention span, normally at the threshold just above which Ritalin is required, has dropped farther than Britney’s panties. I have not been able to focus on anything that needs more concentration than, say, reading a resume. One of the casualties has been movies – I simply have not been able to devote enough brain cells at one time to follow a plot.

Books have been different because I can read a chapter, paragraph, sentence, fragment or word, depending on the cranial capacity that moment. Most recently I’ve read:

Last Seen Leaving by Kelly Braffet. Relationships – mother and daughter, wife and husband, woman and stranger – are all bound together, but never quite touch in this suspenseful, beautifully-written novel. Although dubbed a thriller on various booklists, it’s a actually a series of interior reflections on how people can be torn apart, drift apart, or fall together.

Girl in Landscape by Jonathan Lethem. Science fiction coming-of-age story with odd fantasy-type elements. Lovely language and dreamy sequences, but not a particularly memorable read.

Home Front by Chuck Logan. Your wife is an Amazonian warrior recovering from serious injury. Your daughter is precocious and shows signs of growing up to become her mother. You live in a rural area surrounded by meth labs and the scum who run them. Broker – the protagonist – is one of the few tough-guy characters who is plausible as a husband and father. Much better than I’ve made it sound.

Goodnight, Texas by William J. Cobb. Although this book appeared on a lot of “best of” lists I avoided reading it because the blurb on the book jacket made it sound way too precious. Turns out it’s a love story that includes a giant stuffed zebra fish, a hurricane, West Nile virus, and a drunken, teenage-molesting driver’s ed teacher.

The Truth by Terry Pratchett. I do adore the Discworld novels and this one about freedom of the press allowing truth to reign in Ankh-Morpork is particularly satisfying.

At the moment I’m swimming the ocean that is Stephen King’s Lisey’s Story. This one is even creepier than his usual fare because you have to wonder how much of this reflects the experience of Mr. King and his wife.

The whole point of this is that I’ve finally been able to watch movies again, but those will have to wait for another day.