Worst. Book. Ever

For reference: Sparknotes

Jostein Gaarder
c/o Berkley Publishing Group
375 Hudson Street
New York New York 10014

Dear Mr. Gaarder,
You, sir, hold a distinguished title that no other author in the world can claim. That is, you are the only author in the world, dead or alive, to have his book assigned to me to read for school and have me unable to finish it.
Now there have been many books I have started and not finished. Don Quixote was dry and dusty, much like Miguel de Cervantes’ corpse. At some point I was simply unable to stand the patronizing tone of A Series of Unfortunate Events and was forced to quit, never discovering what the V.F.D. was. And my resolution to read the dictionary cover to cover was poorly thought out in the first place.
But none of these books had the power to motivate me the way a school book can: entrusted to me by a respected teacher, told that I must read, take notes, and write a breathtaking paper if I want my life to be anything but an outright testament to failure. Sophie’s World had that divine power and yet, less than 100 pages in, I threw up my hands in dramatized exasperation and in one of those hands was your book. I would have liked for the force of my exasperated hands to toss Sophie’s World into the garbage disposal or some sort of bonfire, but I didn’t own the book so instead my hands came down and the book came with them. I stuffed it gently into the bottom of my backpack and returned it to my teacher a month later.

I’ll tell you, Mr. Gaarder, where Sophie and her whole world lost me. The book opens with young Sophie walking home from school and checking her mailbox as a matter of routine. “There was usually a lot of junk mail and a few big envelopes for her mother, a pile to dump on the kitchen table before she went up to her room to start her homework.” (Gaarder) There was in fact a letter in the mailbox, addressed to her and saying only, “Who are you?” Sophie, rather than being creeped out or dismissing the letter like a normal person, takes the anonymous question at face value and ponders who she really is.
It’s unrealistic, but hey, I can suspend my disbelief to an extent. I get that Sophie’s World is primarily a philosophy textbook disguised as a novel and you have to get a self-absorbed teenage girl to start asking questions that have nothing to do with Brad Pitt or hair care products. Fine. But then after having Sophie consider her identity and the joys of being alive, YOU HAVE HER CHECK THE MAIL AGAIN. She already got mail. No person, after finding new mail in her mailbox, would check a second time. But no, Sophie defies all logic and opens her mailbox to find another letter. She is surprised to find a new letter there. WELL, DUH! Why did she check in the first place? This new letter asks, “Where does the world come from?” And Sophie does not wonder what kind of murderous stalker is sending her mail, no, she wonders where the world comes from. At this point I had one foot out the door. My other figurative foot crossed the threshold and my literal hands went up in exasperation (see above) when Sophie checks the mail a third time.
A third time, Jostein? Are you insane? How can you have expected anyone to continue after that? Some things come in threes: celebrity deaths, sneezes, wishes, and toes on certain sloths. Here’s what comes in ones: checking your mailbox, you Norwegian freak! Please explain why you would do such a cruel thing to me and ruin the perfect homework record I would have had in the eighth grade. It’s plagued me for years and I think an apology is warranted.
Sincerely,

Letter Status: No Reply
Note: You want to read the book, you say? See whether you can get past the first chapter here.