This is a common theme in our home. There are many times I am in the middle of something and my son will ask me to help him and the next thing I know it is 9:30 and my brain is fuzzy. As a kid, I loved literature. Even the smarmy stuff, I read Gone with the Wind annually every fall. I loved Shakespeare and my favorite play was Taming of the Shrew. I was the kid that read this stuff, for fun. I liked watching ballet, and was bored when my brother in laws wanted to watch the game. So I would leave the room, take the kitchen TV to my room and glut myself on programming that would bore people stiff.
Not so my child. My son couldn't tell you much about Romeo and Juliet, except that he believes it is all Rosaline's fault (prior post) and that he doesn't like the early english. To get him to concentrate this evening, I ended up sitting in the hallway with him reading Act 3 and 4 and reviewing the questions for class.
I never really understood why he doesn't like to read. I would read stories to him when he was little, Beatrix Potter, Goodnight Gorilla. and Goodnight Moon and any others I could garner his attention with. Most of the time he would carry his books around but evenually all he would read were the encyclopedias or the books with lists in them. Book books have not been part of the equivalent. I know he can read, and would read but won't. Sadly, he claims he is not able to imagine himself in a story nor is he able to loose himself in an idea. It is all outside for him. He tells me he has to experience it or have it completely explained to him or he doesn't really understand the story that is going on.
Like at church, he loves going, loves the music, doesn't understand the message at all. The pastor is marvelous, but for an Aspie, the concepts are WAY too obscure. It is to the point now where if we ask him how his service was he will say, "Fine, but I didn't understand a word the pastor said. It doesn't make sense to me and it is very frustrating."
As a parent, and a lover of good books, all of this is hard for me to understand. I wish I could make this more clear to him, I wish I could instill my tastes in publications for him, I wish he would read a book. He has bookcases full of all sorts of books. I read his books, he rarely ever touches them. In fact, they would not see the light of day unless I read them. To me, that is sad.
There is an old quote, "A good book is like a good friend." What that means is that a good book is something you can refer back to, garner comfort or just shut your mind down and enjoy.
THAT is what is sad. He is missing out on good friends.