When I think of being forced to read my most-disliked book of all time, Madame Bovary.
Here is a post that I can sympathize with, at the Paris Review: Obligatory Reading
I still remember the day when the teacher turned to the chalkboard and wrote the words test, next, Friday, Madame, Bovary, Gustave, Flaubert, French. With each word, the silence grew, and by the end, the only sound was the sad squeaking of the chalk.
It’s like the start of a horror novel, it really is.
… except the author of the post now likes the book fine and re-reads it every year.