There can’t be two heinous sequels out there–are you sure you don’t mean “Return to the Secret Garden” by Susan Moody?
Two other much-despised books: “The Chocolate War” by Robert Cormier (technically a children’s/young adult book, but I work for a kid’s literacy org & read lots of children’s books) and anything by Deborah Tannen (had to read for communications classes in college).
I detested Vanity Fair , by Thackeray. I tried about 6 times to get past the first chapter, then finally gave up and tossed it in the pile for the used book store.
And despite being a rabid Shakespeare lover, I totally detest “Romeo & Juliet.” Had Prozac existed back then, this truly heinous play would never have been written.
All the latest books by Anne Rice and Tom Clancy are horrible. I don’t know if the Brazilian Author Paulo Coelho is known outside the region but he ought be shot.
I don’t care that Gabriel Garcia Marquez is a nobel prize he sucks (except “a hundred years of solitude” and “Chronicle of an announced death”)
Stephen King is in my “I wish he were abackstreet boy” list. He is not funny, not creepy (well his phot is) I don’t know why people red his stuff.
Piers Anthony, Killobyte, was the first truly bad book I ever forced myself to finish, and so it still stands out in memory.
Tabitha King (wife of Stephen, and based on the one book read, only published because of that) wrote some execrable thing that involved women being abducted via Shrink Ray and forced to live in dollhouses. I can’t recall the title.
I don’t know about WORST book - but I did not like “Tess of the D’Ubervilles”. I’m not a big fan of 19th-century novels in general, and this one seemed triter than most.
The really bad thing was I had to teach it in a 1-semester high-school Brit Lit class. I had to hide my Cliff Notes from the students… 
I do like Ayn Rand …in small doses. I was first exposed to her as a high school senior - much too impressionable at that age.
I spent most of that summer scouring used book stores for her and Vonnegut’s books.
I’m surprised my brain didn’t implode.
Actually, my current half-serious theory is that Rand wrote Atlas Shrugged as a parody of Robert Tressell’s Ragged Trousered Philanthropists. I had first read Atlas Shrugged and greatly disliked it, and then read Ragged Trousered Philantropists (I think someone from this board suggested it to Guinastasia when she was reading Atlas Shrugged). While there’s a low “I’ve read this before, but horribly twisted and contorted” vibe going on throughout the book, what really got this theory going was this passage:
No, I’,m afraid I can’t buy that explanation.
If you go to the Fanthorpe website (God help us, there’s a website devoted to this man’s abysmal output!), you’ll see that the book has been reprinted at least three times!!!
I can accept contractual obligation for the thing getting into printonce. But to have this damned thing reprinted multiple times means that either somebody likes it, or someone is a sadist. My god, some poor book designers actually had to sit down and come up with new covers for the reprints! The book wasn’t even worth one[ cover.
I’m convinced that Fanthorpe’s purpose in the universe is to give hope to the Unpublished. As in “Well, if he can get published, then anyone can get published!” Worked for me.
One of the few mercies of having a terrible memory is that recollection of lousy books tends to go by the wayside. Still, there are a couple of stinker I vaguel recall:
Aztec by someone I can’t remember. It started out OK, but I got less enchanted with it the further it went. I finally put it down and only picked it back up to put it in the trash.
Chariots of the Gods by Erich von Danieken(sp?). It was at least mildly amusing, though.
Someone mentioned The Pushcart War. I must have read that one twenty or more yeears ago. I enjoyed it immensely at the time.
I have liked several of Stephen King’s books – including Salem’s Lot – but I ran into the same problems with Insomnia that someone else did. It’s gathering dust now.
RR
. . . and I had never even heard until this thread.
RR
Pamela. In all my years of education, I hadn’t read anything that made me hurl the book across the room more than 3 times. I finally just gave up on the last 100 pages.
I mean, I had never heard of Fanthorpe until this thread.
I think it’s time for a lie down.
RR
The worst book I’ve ever read is “The Legend of Rah and the Muggles,” by Nancy K. (“N. K.”) Stouffer.
This is the children’s book at the center of a lawsuit against “Harry Potter” author J. K. Rowling–Stouffer claims Rowling stole her ideas, including the word “muggle” which she claims to have trademarked.
Rowling has nothing to worry about. “Rah and the Muggles” is badly written, badly edited, the characters are boring and one-dimensional, and the book itself is not appropriate for any age group–the language is too convoluted for little kids and the story is too…well, bad for anybody.
If you don’t believe me, check out her website at realmuggles.com–she’s got an excerpt up on her site.
The Pearl by John Steinbeck - usually I don’t mind Steinbeck, but this was the most boring and pointless thing I have ever read. It is truly amazing that this much banality could be packed into a book that can’t be more than 100 pages long.
The Empty Space by Peter Brook - This is supposed to be a great theatre book filled with insightful wisdom, but I thought it was horrible. The author spends several pages at one point talking about how he did not choose to become a director, it was a duty thrust upon him, and he must bravely soldier on despite the pressures of being a god-like figure to actors the world over. Gah. Bleah. After reading this, I would be tempted to say that Peter Brook is the most pretentious person that ever lived.
If it weren’t for…
How I Grew by Mary McCarthy - she actually is the most pretentious person that ever lived. This whole book is so filled with self-absorbed drivel from start to finish as to be almost humourous. She goes on and on about how hard her life was, and every second sentence mentions how intelligent she was and how she was such a special child. This is the only book I have ever read that has made me actively angry at the author. It was so bad, I read it twice just to see if I was missing something the first time. Also, I would like to point out that Mary McCarthy has a son named Reuel, which I think is a pretentious name.
Gary Jennings. There’s a sequel. (I haven’t read either of them, but a friend LOVED Aztec.)
I used to really like Douglas Coupland… especially Microserfs and Generation X… but lately his stuff has become a festering pool of crappy hippie whining. I just can’t stand it anymore. Especially Postcards from the Dead.
I’ve mentioned this book before in another thread, but it bears repeating. He Came To Set the Captives Free. I’ve forgotten the author’s name, but she is (or claims to be) a medical doctor.
The horribleness of this work is explained when you look at the verso of the title page, and note the words “Jack Chick Publications.” Basically, our intrepid doctor/author became aware that the administrators of the hospital where she worked were [reverb]Satanists[/reverb], and were sacrificing patients to their dark master. She couldn’t go to the police, because they were in on it too! She couldn’t even trust her pastor, because even he was a Satanist. Thus she was alone, battling the forces of darkness with only the power of Christ to help her.
Her grip on reality can be judged by the chapter in which, while driving home from work one dark night, she was attacked by a werewolf (you heard me, a werewolf), sent by Satan to kill her because she’d interfered with his evil plans once too often.
I wish I thought this book was a joke, but it reads as if she believes every last word she’s written. Maybe that doesn’t really qualify as the worst book I’ve read, but it’s certainly the scariest.
I read the excerpt.
I wish I hadn’t.
How does this woman think anyone could mistake that load of bullpoo for Rowling’s work? The illustrations (shudder) alone are enough to let you know that this isn’t Harry Potter.
I’ve never understood why Pamela is so thoroughly despised. From my Eighteenth Century British lit class, all I remember thinking is that it was a lot better than Moll Flanders. I’ve always just assumed that Daniel Defoe was hired to churn out rubbish at fifty cents per page and that the idea of having an editor proofread the story hadn’t yet caught on in those days.
Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being left me bitterly disappointed. I had really been looking forward to sinking my teeth into it, but alas there wasn’t much to sink my teeth into. You know you’re in trouble when the only character you like is Karenin the dog. I’ve been told that his best novel is Immortality but I don’t care, he’s on my ‘Never again’ list.
As is Henry James. I tried reading a few of his novels and ended up tossing the damn things. Life is too short to suffer like that.
There are others, but I can’t think of them at the moment.
I have never read a more vile or disgusting book than Lawrence Sanders’ The Case of Lucy Bending. It’s child pornography/pedophilia disguised as an adult erotic thriller. This putrid pig actually writes descriptive sexual scenes between an 8 year old girl and grown, adult men. The book ends when the child is willingly (yes, he makes this child a sex maniac!) giving a blow job to a man in her parents’ kitchen and someone (I can’t recall who) comes in, sees what’s going on and shoots both the girl and the man. I wish he’d’ve shot the author. I was seething angry when I finished that book, and certain that Sanders was a twisted f*** who should be institutionalized for even coming up with that kind of garbage. I feel dirty just typing about it. <shudder>
The Horse Whisperer also sucked. There was basically no horse “whispering”. It was mostly about a lame, self-centered, bored, middle class housewife who cheats on her loving husband in front of her child, then has his love child and makes her husband raise it (because he wouldn’t dare suggest that the ho-bag twit be thrown to the curb for her adultery - he’s too nice of a guy). Thoroughly disgusting book. I wish I’d never read it.
Weaveworld by Clive Barker. It’s about a world of people (or creatures, or whatever) who live in a rug. 'nuff said.
I really appreciate your consideration in avoiding stepping on my penis - Spiny Norman
[symbol][sub][sup]©[/sup][/sub][/symbol] Jeg elsker dig, Thomas [symbol][sub][sup]©[/sup][/sub][/symbol]