When the drugs do their kafkaesque thing I used to find I could only watch certain tv programmes - cos your sensitivities are all very on edge. Now, I find it's extended to books too. So last week I was so glad for "Kafka was the Rage" by Anatole Broyard. Bizarre, given the title I know, but trust me, it's engrossing and not demanding.
For some reason it was the only book I could stay with - I think the short chapters help, and you don't really need to read it in sequence, so I could just flick through and pick a chapter that appealed. It has a sad, inevitable cancer, chapter, but even that was ok, so I pass it on for what it's worth, cos I couldn't even read Jane Austen last week! It's not a heavy duty read at all - just very New York back in the forties (I think reading about a far away time helps too) and plenty of relationship stuff and so on. As always, thank you Kasia!