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Kill Me, Please! Just Don’t Make Me Read That Book — Tabula Rasa
Let’s say you’re in prison and you are told you must read a book or be executed. Most of us would muddle through the book, no matter how distasteful.
On the other hand, each of us probably has a list of books so bad that, given a choice between reading one of them and death, we’d seriously consider death as the better alternative.
On my list is any novel by D. H. Lawrence: I detest everything about his writing. Likewise any book by Noam Chomsky.
I have a new one I’m adding to my list. Debuting on May 12, you will have the chance to buy Stress Test: Reflections on Financial Crises by Timothy Geithner. Can you imagine anything worse? The subject matter is depressing and the theme is obvious: it’s all George Bush’s fault. The author is a whiny tax-dodging Obama apologist. Will it be interesting? No. Will it illuminate? No. Will there be any good anecdotes? No.
There may be a handful of sentient creatures who will read the book, but I won’t be one of them.
Will you?
What books are on your “I’d rather take poison than read this book” list?
Published in General
If I was told that I had one last book to read and then I would be executed, it might by one by Chomsky. Imagine the time dilation!
This post’s question is obviously hyperbolic, and to actually answer it, you have to have attempted to read either the author or the work you claim you would rather die than read. Thus, I’ll tell you about my most unpleasant reading experience to date.
In an effort to understand Dodd-Frank’s back-story from the left’s perspective, I picked up Act of Congress by Robert G. Kaiser from my local library. I expected to get some kind of narrative answering the question “what were they thinking?” when they passed Dodd-Frank.
What I found instead was a hagiography of Barney Frank and a not-so-subtle equivocation of the words conservative, dolt, mean, hypocrite, and evil. It made me want to vomit, even more than listening to Frank speak in public. And if you’ve ever listened to Barney Frank speak, you know that saying something is worse than listening to him demonstrates extreme aversion.
I’d rather be tortured with Act of Congress than be executed, but it would be torture.
Yes, the question does have a bit of hyperbole in it.
A hagiography of Barney Frank. Yuck! That sounds worse than the Geithner book
Umberto Eco — any and all. I MADE myself read Foucault’s Pendulum start to finish in an act of supreme will. I could not tell you from one page to the next what it was about. It was a rote exercise in seeing words on a series of pages. I did like the movie “The Name of the Rose” — but I quail at the thought of trying to read the book.
Faulkner – fatiguing. Reading should be a delight – an enjoyable pastime that entices you on deeper and deeper into the work. Faulkner just doesn’t do that – for me, anyway.
Ian Kershaw – “Hitler” – supposedly the best and most comprehensive, authoritarian and scholarly bio of Hitler, yet it reads like a very bad translation from the original Pensylvania Dutch with a yiddish cant. It is impossible. I shamefully admitted to a close friend and equally avid reader of history that I could not finish it, indeed could not get a quarter of the way through it… and he admitted the same thing! My guilt was immediately assuaged.
I don’t know of a “classic” book for which I’d choose death over reading it. I might choose death over reading some of the trendy popular books of the last 20 or 30 years. The thought of reading something like The Secret gives me the heebie-jeebies.
I’m not too surprised to find Moby Dick on the list, but I decided that my education was lacking in not having included it (High School lit included Bartleby, which I liked fine), and started reading last week. I’m rather enjoying Ishmael’s dry humor. This morning, I started listening to the libra vox version on my commute, and found myself laughing out loud. Does it get a lot worse as it goes on?
As for books worse than death, well, I put down Game of Thrones after about 100 pages, and you would seriously have to threaten to torture me to make me finish the His Dark Materials trilogy. And I don’t think I will ever pick up Ulysses again, but would probably make an attempt if it were that or death.
suum cuique
I listened to the librivox version, too, but gave up after 90 minutes. It wasn’t worth falling asleep as I was commuting.
Like I said, Moby Dick is a closed book for me. Doesn’t mean it is a bad book, or others cannot enjoy it. Just that I get less than nothing from it.
Contrast that to Three Musketeers. I first read it when I was 17 (and loved it), 23, 29, 39, and 50. I am now listening to a librivox version of it, and really enjoying it. Got something different each time I read it. Through the eyes of D’Artagnan at 17, Aramis at 23, Athos at 29, and Monsieur de Tréville later.
Seawriter
In Search of Lost Time by Marcel Proust. Managed to slog through the first book, Swann’s Way. It was the aimless, plotless, maunderings of a momma’s boy and a cuckold. I will never understand what the pointy-headed literary types see in Proust.
Definitely – and thanks for reminding me that I need to get cracking on Three Musketeers, as well. The books I haven’t read!
I think that explains it right there.
I’m sorry, but I just can’t get through anything by Thomas Hardy. I’ve tried, some multiple times. I think I’ve tried to read The Mayor of Casterbrigde three times and I’ve never made it. I don’t think I could finish that book if I wanted to take the option.
If you weren’t depressed before reading a book by Hardy, you will be afterward. The most readable of his major novels is Return of the Native, though it’s no walk in the park.
Anything by John Updike.
Florence King was once asked by Lear’s magazine to write a piece on Updike. The following is taken from a chapter in her book, Reflections in a Jaundiced Eye, and consists of a series of letters between her, and her agent Mel who keeps encouraging her tocontinue. The essay is priceless.
http://freethoughtblogs.com/dispatches/2011/10/20/florence-king-on-john-updike/
Dear Mel:
When Samuel Johnson was asked to comment on the plot of Cymbeline he refused, saying, “It is impossible to criticize unresisting imbecility.”
I am at brain-death’s door. I can’t finish any of Updike’s books. I keep putting one down and going on to another, thinking it’ll be better, but it never is.
…I’d rather be a human mine sweeper in the Strait of Hormuz than read John Updike. I’d rather run away and join the ladies auxiliary of the French Foreign Legion than read John Updike. Tell the Lear’s lady I’m dead – it’s more or less true. I’ve been throwing up, grinding my teeth, and twisting a strand of hair like Olivia de Havilland in The Snake Pit.
Florence
Read the whole series of letters. Priceless.
Not to be picky, but the essay I referenced (with link) is the whole series of letters. I ran out of words (200) so didn’t repeat what I had already written.
But aren’t they a hoot! I love everything King writes – and have every book she has written.
Thank you, I just read the whole series. Hilarious.
Same here. I went through a Hemingway phase in grad school. Read and loved Farewell to Arms, The Sun Also Rises, A Moveable Feast, etc. Then one day I picked up For Whom the Bell Tolls and found I could go no farther. I couldn’t even get through the first page.
He’s just too overwhelmingly conceited.
I don’t think I’ve read a line of his in the 20+ years since.
Just bought Confessions of a Failed Southern Belle on Kindle. Thanks, Barbara!
Summary of anything Hemingway ever wrote:
Has my immense supply of testosterone impressed you yet?
Am I wrong in my perception that Hemingway’s reputation is, relatively speaking, in decline? Maybe not in the academy, but out in the real world some of his gloss seems to have come off. I recently read one of his short stories, “The Killers,” which was lean and mean to the point of utter incomprehensibility.
And I’m sure Hemingway admirers would blame the decline on the wussification of America.
I like to think there’s a difference between “manliness” and random releases of massive amounts of testosterone.
So would I.
Joyce, Proust, Melville, Lawrence, Dickens…? …even Hemingway and Vonnegut who I can always find of interest historically, critically, technically… Boy, I really don’t belong here!
Torture would be Dan Bown and similar writers, Malcolm Gladwell and most of his genre of upbeat non-fiction.
Okay, so back in the days of The DaVinci Code, I went to a class my church taught by Jeff Hart at Search Ministries in Portland. The usual, “it’s a good, fun book” disclaimers began before the debate topics came up, but man, I found the critiques and actual history far more interesting and engaging than the actual Dan Brown novel.
Also, as a friend of mine puts it: “It’s impossible to lend any credibility to a novel where the assassin is an albino.”
You belong here just fine. I suspect, though, that overrated writing often comes in for more criticism than the merely trashy.
“The Killers” is a great short story idea, presented as if it were a short story.
Both the movies based on it are really good though.
Dunbar would approve.
We spell that Pencilvania here.
I’m certain you’ll love it. You might also like When Sisterhood Was in Flower. It’s a short novel(ette) and if not available as a book, it is included in The Florence King Reader. This is a great collection of many of her essays, etc. I laughed so hard reading Sisterhood – very, very funny.