Posthuman Blues

I've been almost painfully remiss in my reading for the last three years. It's not that I've lost interest; I've simply gotten out of the habit. Reading, for all its myriad pleasures, is work: it takes a certain degree of single-mindedness and clarity of thought to sit down with a novel and see it through to its conclusion, especially with the Web as a looming -- and sometimes paralyzing -- distraction.

The good news is that I think I'm coming out from beneath my self-imposed spell and rediscovering that hunger for fiction that nearly defined my existence so many months ago. A most welcome turn of events, or so it seems.