My father, a man with a degree in physics and an impressive resume of important sounding acronyms, does not really read.
As an avid reader who grew up in a house full of crowded bookshelves, it has taken me several years to recognize this, though I still have not fully accepted it. The worn paperbacks that constitute the majority of my parent’s library are thin sci-fi and spy thrillers, which I eventually realized had not been read for years.