The always provocative Michael Fitzgerald (he writes the Prototype column for The New York Times and is a friend and colleague from way back) blogged recently about declining reader interest in fiction and suggests that perhaps nonfiction is becoming a more appealing alternative to fiction because it’s so real.

It’s a good point, but I’d suggest that there’s another factor at play. People simply don’t have time to curl up with a good book any more. We’re so assaulted by the demand to keep up with what all the new voices are saying that we no longer have the leisure to kick back and read for pleasure like we used to. I see this in my own experience: right now I have a backlog of 80 or 90 articles in mainstream and social media that I believe I need to read to keep up with my area of expertise. I don’t see any air in my schedule for a good Stephen King novel any more. There are 15 million new voices in the blogosphere writing daily and I’m concerned that if I don’t keep up with them I’ll fall behind.

I suspect that a lot of people are feeling the same pressure and that reading for pleasure – a pursuit that I value and still hope to embrace – may suffer as a result.