Jane Eyre. I liked Grapes of Wrath except for extra paragraphs. I think we were allowed to skip one chapter. It was probably about the turtle walking. A Tale of two Cities or something like that left me sick of it. I can't remember Great Expectations well enough to know. I never could stand Shakespeare due to the English used. It was too confusing for me to read.

At the risk of attracting all the political trolls to your blog, I am going to have to say _Atlas Shrugged_ was the only book I actually hated. There were many books that bored me. Some that I strongly disagreed with and several that were unrealistic in one way or another. But none that caused anything as strong as loathing. If a class made me read a book I didn't like, I got my revenge by arguing with the teacher over the merits of the book. Generally the teacher was so grateful to get a student that actually put some thought into the reading they overlooked my obstreperousness. So even the most boring Jane Austen could be salvaged in that manner.
I struggled through Atlas trying to discover what all the fuss was about. So even though the writing was poor, the characters unbelievable and the plot unrealistic I kept grinding through it searching for the spark that inspired so many. I would rather get a bikini wax than read that book again.

Books were never an issue for me--it was poetry. I believe it stemmed from my childhood interest in the written and verbal development of the English language. Believing that the aesthetic evolution of narrative description reached its apex in William Shakespeare, choking down the cloying verbosity of the Romantics, the studied paucity of cummings, etc., was anathema. Worse, I am susceptible to pattern recognition and counting. I never fail to get distracted by pentameter. Ugh.