it doesn’t have to be your favorite book or anything. It can be any book that you find yourself thinking of with a sense of pride for having read it.
Personally, I am really proud of myself for not DNFing A Little Life and pushing forward. I read a very good chunk of that book with tears running down my face–mind you, I was reading it on my phone during lectures for the entirety of my first semester last year–and I was always on the verge of putting it down just because of the horrible content. Also, it was pretty long; too long, actually. So when I was done, I was simultaneously Heartbroken, broken (just like in general), and relieved. It was truly a feat.
An honorable mention is A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens, because I swear to God I did not understand a single thing about it even 10 chapters in. Charles Dickens is too much.
If that was a grind for you in British Lit, be glad the prof didn’t assign Finnegans Wake.
There is a book club, in California I believe, that has been meeting for 25 years to discuss only this book. It was recently published in the newspaper. I applaud their commitment.
I got a lit degree in Texas in the mid-late 2000s and I had to read Joyce AND Finnegan’s Wake. Good times.