Pride and Prejudice was the most unrelatable book I was forced to read in school. A rich, noble, Victorian family whose main problems are, while they are rich and noble, they are not as rich and noble as they'd like to be. They have no real skills or assets, so rather than pursue trade or business ventures, they put all their eggs in the basket of their daughters being able to swoon and marry the bachelors of richer, nobler, families.

As someone who does not live in Victorian England, grew up poor, and is generally bored when shallow romance is the main theme, that book was hell. It's often praised for showing the differences between classes in that period, which makes zero sense to me because the only classes it compares are the Upper Class and the slightly less rich Upper Class. It would be like a modern book talking about the "struggles" of a family that only has a net worth of $100 million and how hard they have it compared to billionaire families. Boo-fucking-hoo.

I genuinely do not understand how that book is a classic. It's basically Keeping Up with the Kardashians in Victorian times. It's a trash story with trash characters and trash themes. It is the first, and only, book I felt compelled to burn once I was done with. I wouldn't even wipe my ass with it.