Worst reads
In the malevolent, and highly enjoyable, spirit of The Independent's Read it and Weep survey, I could fire innumerable volleys of bile toward various books. But if allowed only one, I'd have to resist an ideological target and select Malcolm Bradbury's Rates of Exchange as my worst reading experience. This was back in 1986 when I had just started to read novels. I read it because of Bradbury's reputation, as well as his support for European writers I liked at the time, such as Milan Kundera. Nowadays, I would throw such a book to one side immediately, but then, charged with hope, I read this novel almost to the end. Even within the last few pages, I was hoping for an improvement. But with eight left, I gave up. (Why do I remember that it was eight pages? God knows.) How often do you abandon books toward the end? I can think only of this one for me, and Headlong by thingy. Please add your own worst reads; and don?t skimp on the bile, OK?
