Disappearing Summer Days and the Stacks of Unread

It's amazing what I haven't read this summer. Now that I don't have the regular commute from the West Island, my reading has fallen off dramatically. And something has happened to my attention span that makes it hard to stick to a single book. I've always layered my reading with several books on the go, but one has never detracted from the other. Maybe it's the heat, maybe it's the fact I haven't quite settled into my new home but I just can't seem to read.
I heard great things about Joe R. Lansdale's Edge of Dark Water but I just couldn't get into it. I heard not-so-great things about Lars Kepler's second book, The Nightmare, but so far I like it better than the first. 
Movie trailers have inspired me to try The Life of Pi once again and once again, I come to a dead stop in exactly the same place as before, with the poor zebra. Maybe the entire movie will pull me past that part but right now, I just haven't the heart.
The preview of The Cloud Atlas looks so wonderful that it makes me want to save the book for a time when I can begin and just read right through the night. I've already had a peek and can't quite figure out why I didn't pick up on this years ago.
 I'm halfway through Tana French's Broken Harbour and all I can think is, it isn't The Likeness. Of course it isn't and I like the book fine, if I can keep that out of my mind. Comparisons to Asa Larsson's The Black Path is what ruined Until Thy Wrath be Past for me. Well, that and the awkward title.
The new Arnaldur Indridason, Black Skies, has just arrived on my desk and I'm trying very hard not to even crack the cover.
 In the meantime, I'm concentrating on I Feel Bad About my Neck. Nora Ephron makes me laugh and that's all I want, or need, for now. 

What more could you want than a dog, a book and a blog?