10 "Easy" Modern Books That Are Secretly Harder Than War & Peace
After my post roasting 40 classics went viral (and deeply offended the Internet), I got a DM that stopped me cold:
“Karen, you’re right about Moby Dick. But can we talk about how I DNF’d Normal People and everyone acted like I was illiterate?”
Oh. OH.
You know what? Let’s talk about it.
Because after defending you from Tolstoy and Melville, it’s time we had an honest conversation about the modern books everyone calls “accessible” that are actually BRUTAL to get through.
The books with Reese’s Book Club stickers and glowing Goodreads reviews where everyone’s pretending they “couldn’t put it down” when really they rage-quit on page 47.
Here’s the truth nobody’s saying:
Some modern literary fiction is HARDER than the classics. Not intellectually harder. Not more important. Just harder to actually finish without wanting to throw your Kindle across the room.
So here are 10 contemporary “easy reads” that are secretly more punishing than anything Dostoyevsky ever wrote. I’m not saying they’re bad (some are brilliant). I’m saying we need to stop pretending they’re breezy beach reads.
1. The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt (2013)
What everyone says: “It’s like Dickens but modern! So immersive!”
The reality: 771 pages where a traumatized kid carries a painting around and things happen very, very slowly. Yes, it won the Pulitzer. Yes, the writing is gorgeous. But “nothing happens for 300 pages” isn’t a pacing strategy, it’s a hostage situation.
Truth bomb: You could read Anna Karenina (864 pages of Russian family drama, infidelity, and trains) faster because at least Tolstoy moves the plot forward between the philosophical tangents.
Hot take: If you DNF’d this, you’re not a quitter. You’re just a person with a normal attention span.
2. Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace (1996)
What everyone says: “It’s the defining novel of our generation!”
The reality: 1,079 pages + 388 endnotes + footnotes that reference other footnotes + a plot about tennis and addiction that requires a PhD to follow.
Truth bomb: This makes Ulysses look like a Subway romance novel. At least Joyce’s stream of consciousness flows in one direction. Wallace’s book requires you to use TWO BOOKMARKS because you’re constantly flipping to the endnotes.
The math: Wallace fans will tell you “it changed my life.” They won’t tell you it took them 8 months and three failed attempts.
Hot take: Owning this book and finishing this book are two completely different achievements. Most people only do the first one.
3. Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell (2004)
What everyone says: “Six interconnected stories across time! So clever!”
The reality: Six different writing styles, six different time periods, six different vocabularies, and you have to keep track of how they all connect while Mitchell hops between a 19th-century seafaring journal, a 1970s conspiracy thriller, and a post-apocalyptic future dialect.
Truth bomb: Anna Karenina asks you to track ONE timeline with multiple characters. All in the same era. All speaking the same language. Cloud Atlas is playing 6D chess with your brain.
The breakdown:
1840s South Pacific (old-timey language)
1930s Belgium (letters)
1970s California (thriller)
2010s London (contemporary)
Dystopian Korea (sci-fi)
Post-apocalyptic Hawaii (made-up dialect)
Hot take: If you got confused by the Russian names in Tolstoy, you’re going to have an absolute meltdown trying to connect these stories.
4. Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders (2017)
What everyone says: “Experimental and profound! Only 343 pages!”
The reality: 166 different voices talking at once in a graveyard while Lincoln mourns his dead son. It’s written like an experimental theater script meets a philosophical debate meets a fever dream.
Truth bomb: This won the Man Booker Prize, and it deserves every award. It’s also EXHAUSTING. The format alone requires you to track who’s speaking, when they died, and how their ghost-logic works.
Hot take: “Experimental” is just another word for “you’re going to have to reread every page twice to figure out what’s happening.”
5. A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara (2015)
What everyone says: “Devastating and beautiful! A modern classic!”
The reality: 720 pages of relentless trauma where terrible things happen to the main character over and over and OVER. No relief. No hope. Just suffering as a literary device.
Truth bomb: Tess of the d’Urbervilles is 400 pages of Victorian sadness. This is nearly double that length and makes Hardy look like a comedy writer.
The comparison: Thomas Hardy spent one book destroying Tess. Yanagihara spends 720 pages finding new and creative ways to hurt Jude. It’s technically brilliant. It’s also emotionally brutal in a way the classics rarely achieve.
Hot take: “Sad” isn’t the same as “profound.” Sometimes it’s just... sad. And 720 pages of it is A LOT.
6. 2666 by Roberto Bolaño (2004)
What everyone says: “An epic masterpiece! Must-read!”
The reality: 898 pages split into five loosely connected parts. One of those parts is 300 pages describing unsolved murders in graphic detail. The structure is deliberately fragmented. The ending doesn’t resolve.
Truth bomb: War and Peace is long, but at least it has a coherent narrative arc. 2666 is five different books duct-taped together and called a novel.
Hot take: If Tolstoy overwhelms you, this will absolutely destroy you.
7. The Luminaries by Eleanor Catton (2013)
What everyone says: “Victorian mystery! So atmospheric!”
The reality: 832 pages structured around astrological charts where each chapter is HALF the length of the previous one. By the end, you’re reading 2-page chapters wondering why the entire book couldn’t have been that concise.
Truth bomb: This won the Man Booker Prize at 832 pages. The judges said the structure was “ambitious.” They meant “gimmicky but we’re giving it an award anyway.”
Hot take: If the chapter structure is doing more work than the plot, something has gone wrong.
8. My Struggle (Min Kamp) by Karl Ove Knausgård (2009-2011)
What everyone says: “Autofiction at its finest! So honest!”
The reality: Six volumes. 3,600 pages. About the author’s extremely ordinary life. In excruciating detail. Including a 300-page description of a wedding and 100 pages about buying beer.
Truth bomb: Proust spent 3,000 pages on memory and time. At least he had philosophy and madeleine cookies. Knausgård spends 3,600 pages on... grocery shopping and parenting fails.
Hot take: “Autofiction” is what we call it when someone writes 3,600 pages about themselves and we pretend it’s literary instead of just a really, really long diary.
So here’s the plot twist:
Maybe we’ve been gatekeeping the wrong books all along.
All those “difficult” classics everyone told you to skip? At least they’re honest about being difficult.
War and Peace TELLS you it’s 1,200 pages about Napoleon and Russian aristocracy. The Brothers Karamazov WARNS you it’s dense philosophical fiction. Ulysses ANNOUNCES it’s experimental modernism.
But these modern books? They show up with pretty covers, celebrity endorsements, and Reese Witherspoon’s book club stamp, promising you an “immersive read” or a “stunning debut.”
They don’t warn you that:
“Experimental structure” means you’ll need a chart
“Lyrical prose” means nothing happens for 300 pages
“Ambitious” means the author had an idea but maybe shouldn’t have
“Challenging genre conventions” means you’ll be confused and it’s intentional
The real question is: Why do we pretend modern literary fiction is more accessible than classics?
Is it because:
They’re written in contemporary language? (Sure, but that doesn’t make Infinite Jest easier than Pride and Prejudice)
They deal with modern themes? (Yes, but Cloud Atlas is still harder to follow than Anna Karenina)
We feel like we SHOULD relate to them? (Possibly, but relating and finishing are different things)
Or is it because admitting a 2015 bestseller is hard to read feels like a personal failure, while admitting Dostoyevsky is hard feels... expected?
Here’s what I’m NOT saying:
I’m not saying these books are bad. Many of them are BRILLIANT.
I’m not saying don’t read them. Some of you will love them.
I’m not saying modern literature is worse than classics. Different doesn’t mean worse.
Here’s what I AM saying:
Stop pretending “contemporary” equals “accessible.”
Some modern literary fiction is HARDER than the classics everyone told you to skip. And that’s fine! But we need to be honest about it.
If you DNF’d The Goldfinch but finished Jane Eyre, you’re not doing literature wrong. You just have different tolerance levels for “beautiful writing, glacial pacing.”
If Cloud Atlas broke your brain but you loved Great Expectations, that’s VALID. Dickens might be Victorian, but at least he uses a linear timeline.
If you struggled through 50 pages of A Little Life and decided “I can’t do this,” you’re not weak. You’re protecting your mental health.
The real classics vs. modern lit comparison:
Classic Modern Equivalent Which is Actually Harder?
War and Peace (1869) The Goldfinch (2013) Honestly a tie
Ulysses (1922) Infinite Jest (1996) Infinite Jest by a mile
Anna Karenina (1878) Cloud Atlas (2004) Cloud Atlas (six timelines > one timeline)
In Search of Lost Time (1913) My Struggle (2009) Proust has philosophy, Knausgård has... grocery lists
Tess of the d’Urbervilles (1891)A Little Life (2015) A Little Life is Hardy on steroids
Your turn:
What modern “easy read” absolutely destroyed you?
Drop it in the comments. I want to know which contemporary books you DNF’d while everyone else raved about them.
Bonus points if:
It has a Reese’s Book Club sticker
Someone told you it was “readable” (lies)
You felt personally betrayed by the pacing
You still feel guilty about not finishing it
Let’s create a safe space for modern lit DNFs the same way we did for the classics.
And if you want to actually FINISH classic literature instead of just buying books that sit on your shelf:
I’ve got resources that might help:
📖 Free Guide: Read 9 Classics in a Year - No pressure, no homework vibes, just a realistic plan for getting through the books you actually want to read. Because life’s too short to force yourself through books you hate, whether they’re from 1869 or 2015. You get it for free when you subscribe.
📚 The Actually Useful Classics Reading Guide - 55 pages of practical strategies for making classic literature EASIER. Not dumbed down. Just... less painful. Includes:
How to pick translations that don’t suck
Reading strategies for dense prose
When to use audiobooks (yes, it counts)
How to DNF without guilt
Because here’s the thing: Whether it’s Tolstoy or Tartt, Dostoyevsky or DFW, the goal is the same:
Read what you actually enjoy. DNF what you don’t. And stop pretending books are easy when they’re not.
Modern or classic, honest is always better than accessible.
Leave a comment - I want to hear your modern lit confessions.
Affiliate disclosure: Some links in this post are affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you purchase through them. This doesn’t affect the price you pay, and it helps support this newsletter.
I really was interested in this idea, but the pasted right out of AI writing really lost me. I guess I’ll put this Substack article on my DNF list.
I quit Shipping News 10 pages from the end.