Part of the problem is your approach to the story, which is heavily weighted in favor of narrative summary. Very often you summarize character attributes, scenes, dialogue, events, all sorts of developments. Narrative summary has its place and makes a fine showcase for that wonderful voice of yours, but readers need to hear characters speak, see events happening, participate in scenes—and you short-change them in this respect. Very often, instead of scenes, we get information.
It’s a natural but misguided impulse to let your readers know as much as possible about your novel’s setting and main characters as soon as you can. The result is often an opening, or even a whole novel, whose sheer bulk of information muffles the drama and emotion and slows the pace. But readers are like children—they want the good stuff, they want it now, and they don’t care what you think is best for them. The good stuff is story—dramatic character interaction and intriguing situations. Fiction doesn’t run on information; its fuel is the opposite, an information vacuum you might think of as mystery. Readers keep reading to find out what happened, why, and what will happen next. The more information you give them, the weaker that vacuum becomes. This novel is overloaded with information, especially but not exclusively at the beginning.