Hamlet.
No foolin’. There just isn’t a single damn sympathetic character in the whole thing. By the end everyone’s dead and I’m thinking, “Thank God”.
A Confederacy of Dunces - tried twice and just couldn’t do it. I have a hard time reading books where the main character is an utterly unlikable asshole even and especially if he’s intended to be one. Every time someone tells me something about it to get me to read it, it sounds completely dreadful to me (inspired by a mention of it in a pit thread at the moment).
This man’s reputation is beyond me…ULYSSES is torture! Leopold Bloom is incomprehensible, and the "stream of consciousness"narrative is a good cure for insomnia.
Joyce has buffaloed just about every professor of English Literature…he is:
-boring
-cute (with incomprehensible puns)
-long winded (he takes a chapter where a sentence would suffice)
All in all a horrible writer!
I love Pynchon, * The Great Gatsby *, and Sallinger in general (although I think * Catcher in the Rye * is one of his weaker works), but count me as chief among the Hawthorne-haters. He’s a boring, long-winded prude.
Dickens sucks 
The Moonstone. Something else too that I can’t remember the name of . . . had a bit about “Og, Son of Beorl” . . . I think it began with an M . . . something about a house/estate being sold . . . a deformed boy named Philip who became deformed by falling off/under a horse . . . fuck, what was it called.
Mill On The Floss!!!
Just adding my votes to what’s already been mentioned:
Red Badge of Courage
Great Expectation
House of the Seven Gables
Point Counter Point?
D’oh!
For the record, I’m pretty sure that in Point Counter Point, Philip Quarles was lame due to a horse accident as a child.
So much for taking a stab at it 
I’ve tried 3 times to read One hundred years of solitude by Gabrael Garcia Marquez. I’ve read other stuff by him that I liked but I just can’t get more than halfway through that one.
William Faulkner. I’m supposed to love his stuff, being from the south and all, but talk about pages long sentences.
I read Cathcer in the Rye when I was twelve and commiserated with Holden. I read it again in my twenties and thought him to be spoiled and whiney.
I loved The Grapes of Wrath. Just re-read it last year.
As to A Confederacy of Dunces, I think you have to have grown up around the New Orleans area. I’m from Baton Rouge, about an hour up river. It’s one of my all time favorite books. I don’t think it will translate well onto the big screen.
Raised in New Orleans from age five, lived in Louisiana for twenty years. Can’t stand the book. Being from Louisiana doesn’t change the fact that the main character is an obnoxious asshole who I wouldn’t want to share a bus ride with, much less a novel.
Tess of the Unspellable
The Scarlett Letter
Grapes of Wrath (but I like Mice and Men and East of Eden)
Seperate Peace
(I like Dickens and Austen).
Moby Dick. My God. Even now, years after I bought my copy, I can’t read it. I’ve never even got past page 2, or about 5 sentences in.
Beloved, by Toni Morrison. Holy shit did I ever hate, hate hate this piece of dreck when I was in high school! The dialect Morrison wrote most of the main dialogue in was so strong I couldn’t figure out what people were saying half the time. Why she was so feted for this and her other drivel I’ll never understand. Her themes were tired and cliched, her characters incoherent. “Sethe” reminded me of Kizzy from Roots, hopped up on meth.
But when I was 14, Catcher in the Rye made perfect sense to me. Seeing how many people here dislike it, maybe I should read it again.
Emma by Jane Austen. Meretricious rubbish. Fanny Burney’s Evelina is a far better example of the genre, but bloody Jane Austen is the one everyone loves.
I really tried to read Ulysses, but, since I was reading the annotated version, I got really irritated about the fact that every frickin’ line seems to be some allusion to 1) the bits of the Odyssey that no one remembers, 2) the really obscure works of Oscar Wilde, or 3) Joyce’s own early works. The language didn’t bother me at all; I just hate books that require you to have read 27 other books in order to understand them.
I’ve tried to read Moby Dick four times. I get forty pages or so into it (when does the first existentially unconnected essay begin?) and put it down every time.
Also, I’m a movie geek who thinks Bergman’s “towering classic” The Seventh Seal is actually quite a bore. Interesting structurally and referentially, but devoid of human life. Give me Fellini’s 8½ any day.
Tess of the D’Urbevilles
The Deerslayer
In Tess, which I had to read in college, the main character gets raped and has a child. I had no idea this happened in the story until suddenly the child is next to Tess, working in the fields. I had to go back and re-read an entire chapter (and then read between each line in that chapter) to figure out she’d been raped. The pregnancy and birth was never mentioned, as I recall.
Although I truly hated The Deerslayer when I read it, it was almost worth the agony when I read, years later, Mark Twain’s scathing review of that work. I laughed out loud.
The Cat in The Hat.
I hate that cat.
And his hat.
Catcher in the Rye is a classic because all the hippies liked it. Hippie books suck.