Perhaps I've been scarred somehow? My parents used to make my brother [who has the same problem as I do] and me go to our rooms on Sunday afternoon. They would set a timer for 30 minutes and make us read. It felt like 30 hours. Even for Book It!, reading was a means to an end, namely, PIZZA!
I even get made fun of by friends. Some of them look down their noses at me for not being able to enjoy fiction. They have decent warrant to do so.
So, my recent efforts have included "Gilead" by Marilynne Robinson and "The Shack" by William Paul Young.
I can't lie and say that I'm converted: "I'm now a fiction reader!" I still have issues. It's just not very satisfying and/or relaxing to me.
What if I got free pizza for reading about Johannine participles, inaugurated eschatology, and Christo-centric hermeneutics? That would be one heck of a deal.