I used to read EVERYTHING. No, really. Cereal boxes, soup cans, ACTUAL ASSEMBLY INSTRUCTIONS *heh* (after having assembled whatnot, more often than not :-)).
Fluff or food: it’s really all in how one reads it. I re-read my collection of Shakespeare earlier this year, but I’ve reaped as much from thoughtful, critical reading of poorly-written YA books (informally reviewing ’em for my Wonder Woman, librarian) by reading those with an eye to the Good the Bad and the Ugly–and pondering, based on internal evidence, on the causes of each.
It’s all in how one reads what one reads. I read different material and authors for different reasons. I read an Anne Rice book recently (the first such in years for me) and was caught up more in appreciating the craft of her writing than the story and characters, both of which I disliked greatly. . . and which, having read other books by her, I suspected I might. I read David Weber books, despite my irritation at some of his writing flaws–consistently using certain words in ways that move me to suggest he might do with an Inigo Montoya consultation *cough*, his sometimes excessive wordiness, etc.–not even so much for the plots and characters as for the ethic he presents. I do NOT plan on re-reading Calvin’s “Institutes”. Thank you, no. Good stuff, for the most part, but juuuuust a wee tad on the tedious side for me. 🙂
I do try to hold myself down to a book a day, with some success, but I’m not going to make that a strict rule. Sometimes, it does take me three or so days to read a book, but that’s almost always because I have three to five other books I’m reading during that time as well. Always done that, probably always will. It’s fun to dream mixes of books currently in my read pile. 🙂