I hate getting books for Christmas in general because I’m such a mood reader, and I’ve plastered a fake smile on my face many a time and repeated internally ‘Its the thought that counts.’ as I unwrap a book I will not read.
But the worst one by far, given to me by my own Mother , who I know loves me, when I was fourteen years old! was >!Men are from Mars Women are from Venus.!< I am sitting there horrified thinking what is she trying to tell me? As my sisters are flat on the floor laughing to the point of puking. We eventually came to the conclusion she just saw an attractive cover on a bestseller table and grabbed it. Love to know your terrible gift stories.
My schizophrenic uncle, who I hadn’t seen for a few years, went off his meds and randomly showed up at our house on Christmas morning. He brought me a book wrapped in a brown paper bag. It was Chaos by James Gleick (science and philosophy of chaos theory). I was 9.
Did you enjoy it eventually though? It’s a neat book. At least it’s one you could hang onto and read at a more nonlinear-dynamics-appropriate age and not inherently awful.