Worst Book You Had to Read in School
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Gatsby
I still don't get it. Anybody remember when/why that book was relevant?
I still don't get it. Anybody remember when/why that book was relevant?
Sense and Sensibility- Jane Austen.
Hate her and I hate her 1800s bullshit. What a c***t.
Hate her and I hate her 1800s bullshit. What a c***t.
Beowulf. I understand the historical value but the older translation is a pain to read.
I appreciate all books whether I like them or not, but the Scarlet Letter sucked terribly.
You guys are all savages, other than We-Todd-Did as you'll see by the following sentences. I liked all the classics I was forced to read other than Shakespeare, but that's only because I had no clue what they were saying and my teachers absolutely hated when I used Cliff Notes. I didn't quite get the point, if I don't understand what the f anyone is saying, why bother reading it?
I've actually gone back over the last few years and re-read several required readings from high school. "Walden" wasn't much easier the 2nd time around. I appreciated the themes (especially with the use of technology now)... but that's just a tough read.
"The Red Badge of Courage" is still
.
"The Red Badge of Courage" is still
.
Moby Dick is pure horseshit. About 20 pages of good stuff and 9,351 pages about the whaling industry.
My mother was my AP English teacher and she loved the Brontes. I mean, how many words do you need to say women are uppity heurs that only care about status and prestige, and the only conflict in their life is when they fall for the "bad boy" that comes from the wrong side of the moors? Oh my heavens!
Be easier for me to list the ones I liked...
In Cold Blood
The Sun Also Rises
Catch 22
Catcher in the Rye
Hated all the rest.
In Cold Blood
The Sun Also Rises
Catch 22
Catcher in the Rye
Hated all the rest.
Back in school I hated reading so pretty much any book would probably make the list. If I had to just pick one, I probably would go with The Canterbury Tales. The main reason is that we had to memorize the prologue to it in it's original form. It has been 24 years since then and I still have this memorized. Why couldn't she have us memorize something that would be actually useful in the future? Here is what we had to memorize.
Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote,
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licóur
Of which vertú engendred is the flour;
Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne,
And smale foweles maken melodye,
That slepen al the nyght with open ye,
So priketh hem Natúre in hir corages,
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,
And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes,
To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;
And specially, from every shires ende
Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,
The hooly blisful martir for to seke,
That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke.
Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote,
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licóur
Of which vertú engendred is the flour;
Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne,
And smale foweles maken melodye,
That slepen al the nyght with open ye,
So priketh hem Natúre in hir corages,
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,
And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes,
To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;
And specially, from every shires ende
Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,
The hooly blisful martir for to seke,
That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke.
Canterbury Tales...and I too had to memorize it!
Also read some book about a Jewish girl and a black slave on a raft. They fought windmills and run from some Nazi named injun Joe. I think the Jewish chick went crazy when she went looking for a heartbeat and a blackbird named Hamlet attacked her. Its all kinda fuzzy now...I smoked alot of dope in HS and chased it with MD20/20.
Also read some book about a Jewish girl and a black slave on a raft. They fought windmills and run from some Nazi named injun Joe. I think the Jewish chick went crazy when she went looking for a heartbeat and a blackbird named Hamlet attacked her. Its all kinda fuzzy now...I smoked alot of dope in HS and chased it with MD20/20.
The Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou
As a 17-year old boy interested in only sports and girls, I just wasn't concerned about any of the issues discussed in these books.
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou
As a 17-year old boy interested in only sports and girls, I just wasn't concerned about any of the issues discussed in these books.
The Last of the Mohicans. James Fenimore Cooper is like reading morse code for 11 hours in a row without blinking while being shot in the face with rhino tranquilizer.
And turned into an equally screwed up movie that somehow is totally awesome. #charliedontsurf
"The Summer of My German Soldier" - If you haven't read it, I'll break it down for you. Teenage girl in Arkansas during WWII. A POW camp is down the road. A Nazi escapes and hides in her barn. She feeds him. He runs away and gets hit by a train or something. That's about it.....and it didn't take me 250 pages to get that message out.
***Warning: Bitter Diatribe about to take place***
-Back in school we started something called The Accelerated Reader Program. Basically there was a list of about 200-300 books that you could choose from. Each book has a point value associated with it. You read the book and take a test. Your job was to accumulate as many points as possible. Get 90-100 pts and you get an "A," 80-90 for a "B," etc. Sounded good in theory except the point values were crazy dumb. Gone With The Wind (all 1500 pages of it) was worth 50 pts. Imagine having a semester to read Gone With The Wind, taking a test (where you weren't likely to pass and get the full 50 pts), and then still not have enough points for a passing grade in the class.
So what all the kids did was read about 30-40 Curious George type books at 2-3 pts a piece. Congratulations public school system, you got a bunch of teens and pre-teens to read Curious George......whoopee!?
And specifically for me it backfired. Due to my older brothers, I was heavily into Stephen King at that time......which, of course, wasn't even close to being on the "approved" reading list. I was forced to read crap I had no interest in. Turned me off of the joy of reading for decades.
***Warning: Bitter Diatribe about to take place***
-Back in school we started something called The Accelerated Reader Program. Basically there was a list of about 200-300 books that you could choose from. Each book has a point value associated with it. You read the book and take a test. Your job was to accumulate as many points as possible. Get 90-100 pts and you get an "A," 80-90 for a "B," etc. Sounded good in theory except the point values were crazy dumb. Gone With The Wind (all 1500 pages of it) was worth 50 pts. Imagine having a semester to read Gone With The Wind, taking a test (where you weren't likely to pass and get the full 50 pts), and then still not have enough points for a passing grade in the class.
So what all the kids did was read about 30-40 Curious George type books at 2-3 pts a piece. Congratulations public school system, you got a bunch of teens and pre-teens to read Curious George......whoopee!?
And specifically for me it backfired. Due to my older brothers, I was heavily into Stephen King at that time......which, of course, wasn't even close to being on the "approved" reading list. I was forced to read crap I had no interest in. Turned me off of the joy of reading for decades.
An American Tragedy. I'm sure if I read it today it would probably keep my interest for more than a page or two.
Most all of my school textbooks. Full of omissions, glossed over half-truths and/or outright lies.
Lots of good answers here -- I'd throw in anything chosen by some teacher or school system because of the gender, race, sexual preference or politics of the writer (anything by Toni Morrison, for example, who is probably the most overpraised and over-awarded American writer in history.)
But, The Great Gatsby? I could read certain passages from that once a month the rest of my life and never tire of it. As Ernest Hemingway said of F. Scott Fitzgerald, "His talent was as natural as the pattern that was made by the dust on a butterfly’s wings."
Take this one line near the end, when a character muses on what it must have been like to see the American East Coast from an early exploring ship:
"And as the moon rose higher the inessential houses began to melt away until gradually I became aware of the old island here that flowered once for Dutch sailors’ eyes—a fresh, green breast of the new world. Its vanished trees, the trees that had made way for Gatsby’s house, had once pandered in whispers to the last and greatest of all human dreams; for a transitory enchanted moment man must have held his breath in the presence of this continent, compelled into an æsthetic contemplation he neither understood nor desired, face to face for the last time in history with something commensurate to his capacity for wonder."
What words ever better summed up what America has meant, as an idealized vision, to generations here and around the world?
It may be because I live within a few miles of where Fitzgerald is buried in a small Catholic church yard, now hemmed in by a bustling, noisy highway lined with strip malls and fast food joints. I find myself pulling off the road and into the church yard on a whim several times a year, just to spend a couple minutes there. On his tombstone is the famous last line of Gatsby: "So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."
But, The Great Gatsby? I could read certain passages from that once a month the rest of my life and never tire of it. As Ernest Hemingway said of F. Scott Fitzgerald, "His talent was as natural as the pattern that was made by the dust on a butterfly’s wings."
Take this one line near the end, when a character muses on what it must have been like to see the American East Coast from an early exploring ship:
"And as the moon rose higher the inessential houses began to melt away until gradually I became aware of the old island here that flowered once for Dutch sailors’ eyes—a fresh, green breast of the new world. Its vanished trees, the trees that had made way for Gatsby’s house, had once pandered in whispers to the last and greatest of all human dreams; for a transitory enchanted moment man must have held his breath in the presence of this continent, compelled into an æsthetic contemplation he neither understood nor desired, face to face for the last time in history with something commensurate to his capacity for wonder."
What words ever better summed up what America has meant, as an idealized vision, to generations here and around the world?
It may be because I live within a few miles of where Fitzgerald is buried in a small Catholic church yard, now hemmed in by a bustling, noisy highway lined with strip malls and fast food joints. I find myself pulling off the road and into the church yard on a whim several times a year, just to spend a couple minutes there. On his tombstone is the famous last line of Gatsby: "So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."
Tip
See Tip Run. See Tip get pumped. Get pumped Tip. Get pumped, you sonofbitch.
See Tip Run. See Tip get pumped. Get pumped Tip. Get pumped, you sonofbitch.
I had an English teacher who was crazy about James Joyce. Had to read both Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man and Ulysses. I know people with PHD's who can't make heads or tails of those books. Why anyone thought a group of high school kids would get anything out of it is beyond me.
I will also add in any 19th century love story involving a woman torn between marrying the roguish working class bad boy, or the well-to-do brooding man of means. It seemed like there was an unending parade of these in my senior English class.
I will also add in any 19th century love story involving a woman torn between marrying the roguish working class bad boy, or the well-to-do brooding man of means. It seemed like there was an unending parade of these in my senior English class.
