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Gasp of gasps! And heresy of heresies! Just at the moment I am completely underwhelmed by Thomas Pynchon's The Crying of Lot 49. :sad:
I'll finish it, and my reaction may improve, but so far the humor seems adolescent at best, and any comparisons to the far more literary Joyce's Ulysses are farfetched. IMO of course. Many think otherwise.
The fiction book I have enjoyed the least this year has to be Madame Bovary.
Oh, that's easy. Under The Tuscan Sun by Frances Mayes.
There are worse ones which I've given up on, but the worst one I've completed is 'The Minotaur Takes a Cigarette Break'-
Something just compelled me to keep on reading. Yet!