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Date: 2020-12-31 06:05 pm (UTC)
perennialanna: Plum Blossom (Default)
I have 12 years worth of reading lists, years split fairly evenly between anti-depressants and not, to show that I read far more when on anti-depressants.

The issue for me is time. The year I was on maternity leave with my first child and this year (in which my workplace was closed for several months) were the years in which I read almost as much as I did before having children. This year (213 finished books) almost approached teenage summer holidays in numbers of pages read, and in my ferocity of concentration and blanking of the outside world.

The other thing this year has in common with adolescence is a sense of isolation, of closed doors. In other years I've been able to go out, to cherish friendships and even pursue romance. None of this has been possible this year. It's been a good year for books (and I've enjoyed every single one I've finished), but I think, heretically, that I'd rather have read fewer books and been able to do more.
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