Why I’m Giving Up on Fanny Price

 I am going to say something that I know will rub people the wrong way: I don't like Jane Austen. 

It's not you, Jane, it's me.   

Now, to be more specific, I think she's a genius, but I just don't like her books.  I find her writing style interesting and well structured, but I could give a flying fart about what she writes about.  
The last time I read one of her books was likely in high school, and I couldn't wait to be done with them.  However, as I embark on my masochistic journey through '1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die,' I figured it was time for a rematch. 

Surely, I thought, my tastes have ripened into something more sophisticated?
Nope. Turns out, I’m still just as bored by 19th-century burns as I was in 11th grade.  

I couldn't muster a single ounce of give-a-damn for whose lace had slipped or how a bit of mud on the hem of a dress might render a woman unmarriagable.  I have read that these novels are meant to be taken a bit tongue-in-cheek and are comedic.  I have tried that lens as well, but I couldn't make it past the half-waypoint of Mansfield Park.  
That being said, here is what I know about this book from the little bit I read:

The first 200 pages of this book revolve around whether a group of entitled rich kids will play with a poor kid in their living room, and the scandal that ensues from both playing in said living room, and heavens if they should act out a play.  The audacity of being a poor kid in a rich kids' living room. It's hard to get into a book when the heroine’s favourite hobby is being sad near a shrubbery.

So, let’s be honest: what is your ‘Jane Austen’—that universally acclaimed masterpiece that you just couldn’t bring yourself to finish? Let me know in the comments so I can feel a little less guilty about my unfinished reading list.