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Jude the Obscure (Hardy). Finished it, but it's one of those books that was (to me at least) so damn depressing that you want to lock the firearms away for a few days till you get over it.
A Theft (Bellow). Maybe I wasn't in the right mood for this one. I quit after about 35 pages of what appeared to me to be nothing more than Bellow being in love with the sound of his own voice. If there was a plot in the offing, he had certainly beaten it into submission up to the point where I quit.
I remember really hating Jane Eyre when I was forced to read it at school, when I was around 13-14. To be fair, I should revisit it, since it has prejudiced me against anything with "Bronte" on the cover ever since.
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