Well, I just finished The Mill on the Floss. And I hated every second of that book.
It was like the Seinfeld of books. A book about nothing. Except without the comedy. Nothing happened at all until around 250 pgs in. And then when something did happen it was all misery and pain and that annoying Victorian self-denial.
I'll probably start Frankenstein tonight, as I had a training session at work today and found out that I'll be working a minimum of 26 hours this weekend.