It's a theory not universally considered (well, really just by me) that once I was going to start reading again, I wouldn't stop.
Last November, in another attempt to read a complete book, I started The Jane Austen Book Club by Karen Joy Fowler. I was on a train. I was full of good intentions (never a good sign). I didn't get past the first couple of pages.
Last Friday, also on a train, I finished the book... that I had started MERE DAYS PREVIOUSLY.
*seated dance of mojo-reclaiming triumph*
What has also returned to me, along with the ability to read an entire book, is a sense of relaxation, an ability to be constructively lazy. I think Tom Hodgkinson (secret boyfriend numero uno) would be proud. I like to think he would.
As for the book, it's a tender, delicious read, and I imagine it would be very enjoyable to those who haven't read Jane Austen (or at least seen the movies). But if you have, the threads that tie the book club members to Austen's tales are well woven and fun to recognize. I saw bits of the movie on television one night, and I suppose the most noticeable difference is that the characters are much younger in the movie than the book. Oh, there's a shocker.