I have a fragmented, almost distracted fascination with most of the books I read. I am interested in so many things, and there are so many books that I feel I must read, that I have developed something akin to reading ADD. It's not that I can't focus; it's just that I choose not to. If a book doesn't immediately captivate me with its awesomeness, I see no reason to continue reading it. Call it the "first chapter test." There are plenty of other volumes literally growing dusty on my 'to-read' shelf. Sometimes ascertaining whether or not the book is worth finishing takes no more than a chapter. Sometimes it takes several. Sometimes I finish it and discover that it wasn't worthwhile after all.

Which all begs the question: How important is finishing a book? Most of the time, when I fail to finish a book, it's not because I considered it as lacking. Usually, it's either because my attention shifted to something new and I just didn't find time to make it all the way through that 800 page biography. However, when it's a plot-based book--a novel, in other words, as opposed to nonfiction--the fact that I failed to finish does imply some kind of deficiency. After all, aren't plots supposed to *captivate* readers, leaving them glued to the page, eagerly advancing through the chapters? Well, yes, I suppose.

But lately, I have my reading motivated more by mood than plot, more by style than suspense. This means that I am more likely to fall in love with an author's conjunctions than his characters. It's a somewhat cerebral, intellectual method, and one I never meant to develop. I love a good cliffhanger as much as the next person. But either good cliffhangers have become very scarce, or I have become to skeptical, because they just don't seem to hold me like they once did.

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I think it is reasonable to surmise that this has something to do with my writing. I tend to imitate the style of whatever I've been reading, consciously or otherwise. While this is more noticeable in my works of fiction and my poetry (it's quite obvious to see whether I've been leaning more towards Allen Ginsberg or Edna St. Vincent Millay), I notice it in my nonfiction writing as well, since I also read a large amount of newspapers, magazines, and nonfiction volumes. Now, I don't mean that I plagiarize. What I mean is that I have a way of subconsciously adopting the voice of certain writers, adapting their syntax to my own purpose. While this might lead me to become a puppet writer, I have  been assured that it is a necessary learning and development process, and I think the synthesis of several writers playing upon my brain and my pen actually prods me forward towards the goal of developing my own style.

Since this is the case, it's important to me that what I read is worthwhile. If it is, it will sooner or later come spurting out in my writing after fomenting in my mind. Yet, I find myself struggling to imitate the genius of some of my favorite writers. I can't, for instance, echo the writing style of Chaim Potok, Daphne du Maurier, or T.H. White. I can't even describe them properly. These "awe-inspiring, monumental books" also take up a vast minority of my overall reading. So, I have a new priority: reading the works of those that I find beyond my ken. That will be the new first chapter test.