Books I Read for School and Disliked/Hated/Had a Problem With

1.       Wuthering Heights 

Cathy’s a monster, Heathcliff’s crazy, and nearly everybody else is either a pansy or a jerk. It’s supposed to be a love story, but guys. It isn’t. Because Cathy and Heathcliff are not in love with each other, okay? They are obsessed with each other. Obsessed. There is a difference. It is unhealthy, it is really creepy—and in spite of said obsession, they still can’t pull it together and get married, and instead spend the rest of their lives moping and plotting revenge. And then they die. Unhappy. The end. 

2.       Jane Eyre 

Read it in sixth grade for a book report. Procrastinated until the last minute and had to read almost the entire book in one day. Needless to say, it did not leave a sunshiny feel-good impression on me (since then, I’ve come to appreciate it, bought a new copy, and mended my middle school ways. But at the time, this book and I were ENEMIES). 

3.       Dracula

Read it in eighth grade. My impressions were: boring, boring, boring. EW. Lather, rinse, repeat. 

4.       Things Fall Apart 

I don’t actually think that I finished this one. My hatred for it was mainly circumstantial—I didn’t like the novel, but I hated even more my teacher’s condescension when we pointed out which parts we had problems with. The best way to endear yourself to a classroom full of tenth graders is not to treat them like simpletons. Just so we’re clear on that. 

5.       Carry On, Mr. Bowditch 

Fifth grade. His sister, his brothers, and his wife died. And then he remarried his wife’s cousin Polly, whose real name was Mary (this was a very important and very bizarre detail to ten-year-old me). Also there was a lot of talk about sailing. And navigation. And he wasn’t even a pirate. You can imagine how thrilling this was to me. 

6.       The Old Man and the Sea 

This book inspired in me a sincere and deep hatred for all things Hemingway. I kind of feel bad about it. It wasn’t Hemingway’s fault. I had to read this book on vacation (strike one)—the whole thing (strike two)—and all I can remember about it was the scene where he was talking to his hand and telling it that it wasn’t allowed to quit (strike three). I was eleven (possibly twelve). That kind of meaningful moment was completely lost on me. I mean…no impact. None. Whatsoever.