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.
Yes, it’s far from unreadable (apart from the bits where he has to lecture the reader about whatever bee he had in his bonnet at the time). I must have read it at least ten times over the years and it’s one of those books you live with and find something different almost every time. I’ve read Anna Karenina a lot too, but I have never warmed to it in quite the same way, I’m not sure why.