Worst Reads of 2020

I couldn’t do a Best Reads of 2020 and not address the “not so good” books that I’ve read during this past year. There is only a handful – four, to be exact – and I want to highlight the fact that these are not by any means “bad books”. They’re just books that didn’t do anything for me, or books that didn’t meet my expectations. This is no detriment to any of these authors, who are all pretty epic novelists. With that being said, here are the books that failed to rock my socks off in 2020.

The Haunting of Hill House
Shirley Jackson, 1959.
 
Thinking back on this, I realize I had set myself up for disappointment with this book. I watched the series on Netflix and was completely under the spell of the haunted manor. The thing is, I have a difficult relationship with horror novels. I LOVE ghost stories, and reading is my favorite way to enjoy them. I cannot put down a good scary story; I’ve tried, it’s just impossible. The same thing happened with The Haunting of Hill House, but the detail I had failed to overlook is that it was written in 1959. Horror stories were really different back then (read here: not as scary). So I picked up this book thinking it would be an epic, chilling, ghost story like the one I had seen on TV. It was nothing like that and my false expectations kept me from enjoying the real story. I will link my full review of The Haunting of Hill House here.

​The Art of Deception
Nora Roberts, 1986.
 
I have a love-hate relationship with Nora Roberts. I absolutely adore some of her books (like the Irish Born trilogy), but I hate some others (like this one). The Art of Deception somehow made its way to my bookshelf; I have no memory of either buying or being given this book. It’s the story of Adam, a young painter, who goes to stay with a father and her daughter in the hope of finding a quiet corner to work in... Or so they think. Little by little, Kirby, the daughter, unsolves the mystery of Adam’s presence and threatens to spoil everything – including their blooming romance. The story was actually pretty good, but I couldn’t help feeling like something was missing. I find that Nora Roberts’s stories are really hit and miss. They either soar or fall flat, and this one unfortunately fell flat for me.

​The Swallower Swallowed
Version originale en français : L’avalée des avalées
Réjean Ducharme, 1966.
 
Again, my expectations were too high. Réjean Ducharme is a grand Montreal author, and everyone learns about The Swallower Swallowed in school. This novel was indeed recommended by a lot of my teachers growing up, but I never got around to actually reading it, and I never received it as an assignment either. So it’s only many years later that I finally got around to reading it. After waiting that long, it’s pretty understandable that I had high expectations. However, this book left me feeling a little perplexed. You follow the thought process of a young girl, Bernice, as she grows and comes to term with different realisations regarding life, solitude, family and religion. It is very well written, and it’s interesting to see the world from the point of view of a nine year old, but again, there was something missing. The end of the book is what killed me. I felt like I had worked my way through this philosophical book, only to be greeted with wilted flowers at the finish line. 

​The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
Robert Louis Stevenson, 1886.
 
I had been warned. People had told me, time and time again, that this book did not age well and was much less relevant in this century. But I had to see it for myself. I love scary stories and I love psychology, so I thought “What’s not to like about the story of a man who’s dealing with what is basically the precursor of a multiple personality disorder?” It was not scary, which is a good thing because it means mental illness is not viewed as some kind of ghostly possession anymore. But what really bothered me was the fact that nothing happens in this story. The book is pretty short, so it should be fairly fast-paced, but instead it drags on and on, the author stopping at every insignificant detail. The ending leaves you with the feeling that there was a shortage of paper somewhere that kept the author from properly finishing the book. I think this year just wasn’t such a good year for classics for me.

​Let me know down below which reads left you with a sour aftertaste this past year. Again, I’d like to reiterate that this is strictly my opinion, and a lot of people might actually adore these books. There’s a book for everyone, and that’s the beauty of reading.
 
See you all next week! 

Much love,