Sometimes, I think when I am itching for a fight and want someone to argue with, I like to read the bad customer reviews of books that I enjoy over at Amazon.com. They all read roughly the same — full of grammatical errors, misspellings, angry rants and ill-informed opinions — and because I disagree with them, this makes me feel better about myself. I feel smarter, better read, and although I’m not, I can’t help but derive some amusement from the whole endeavor. Today, I share some of these comments about some of my favorite books. It might be interesting to see why other readers hated them so much.

The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner: “Like being on a three-week drunken spree,” says a reader from Illinois. “Yuck.”

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald: “I dont like any of the characters,” writes a reader from Alabama. “They should all be destroyed b/c they are all awful people who would rather party than actually face their lives. I dont think that teachers should force students to read it b/c just because it happens to be by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Big whoop.”

The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway: “I could not understand what the author was trying to convey,” says, a reader from USA, “except that all the characters in the book are drunks fighting over a woman on a picnic.”

Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.: “O.K., I read it,” admits a reader from Maryland, “but I literally have no idea what this book is about. And I’m not reading it again to find out either. Apparently, people like almost anything in life, which is really a sad commentary on the human condition.”

One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez: “An ugly novel,” proclaims a reader from America, “not the less ugly for the undeniable talent with which it is executed. I do not recommend it.”

Pnin by Vladamir Nabokov: “In my opinion,” says a Michigan reader, “it should go out of print and stay there.”

Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino: “I give this book a big ol’ ZZZZzzzzzz….” offers a reader from New York City.

Leviathan by Paul Auster: “Mr. Auster’s probably a great writer,” concedes a reader from Georgia. “He just depresses me.”

A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving: “Ugh, if burning books weren’t frowned upon, guess which one would be roasting right now?” asks a reader from Toronto. “Go on, guess.”